eats one ate

Louisiana Crawfish: The Book

Posted on May 21, 2014 by eatsoneate

I am rather fond of food. My laptop and my dunlap (where my waist used to be) can testify, as can my file of business cards. Because wherever I go to eat, I meet the most fascinating people. It might be the farmer who grows the food, the chef who cooks it, or the new friend across the table who simply savors it with me. This story is about someone who tells the tale (and tail) of it.
Last year I took two quick trips to Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Neither one was food-related at the outset, but both became such before it was over – I just can’t help it. On the second trip I ended up meeting Mr. Bellue, who showed me every corner of Bellue’s Fine Cajun Cuisine. As we wound up our impromptu tour, there was someone waiting to see him, someone with an appointment. Mr. Bellue knew I was a food writer of sorts, so he introduced me to the writer who was waiting: Sam Irwin.

Author Sam Irwin

The day we met, Sam mentioned that he had worked with the Louisiana Market Bulletin (he is the former editor), and I have since learned that he was once the press secretary for the Louisiana Department of Agriculture and Forestry. Along the way, he has also written nonfiction for a long list of regional magazines and newspapers, as well as some award-winning fiction. These days he is roaming his home state signing his new book, “Louisiana Crawfish, A Succulent History of the Cajun Crustacean.”
Some writers set out with a clean slate when writing a book, then do lots of research, eventually becoming something of an expert on the subject. Another way to do it is to live smack dab in the middle of the subject matter, and just tell your story. Sam has done both. The five-hundred footnotes in this 138-page book prove that everything was not from memory – his homework was done. But given that his family was in the thick of crawfish country before the Cajun crustacean became as famous as it is today, he certainly has the authority of presence as well.
Sam’s grandfather, Joe Amy, was a pioneer in the crawfish business, becoming one of the first to get a permit to peel and sell crawfish meat. As an adolescent Sam witnessed the exponential growth of the industry, later working for Amy’s Fisheries in just about every possible role. His parents were also involved the industry as well as the Breaux Bridge Crawfish Festival. And his sisters either reigned as Crawfish Queen or served in her court. Later he was public relations advisor to the Louisiana Crawfish Promotion and Research Board. As Sam says, his “ties to the crawfish industry are deep…as a crawfish hole.” I think we can trust him.
As I read the book, I was reminded of my own experience with crawfish, or crawdads as I called them as a kid. At the bottom of the big hill in our neighborhood, there was a creek where we would catch them. In that day the idea of taking some home to boil with corn and potatoes would have seemed pretty far-fetched. Even now, though I can certainly enjoy a few pounds of the boiled variety, I prefer the tail to be peeled by someone else, then deep-fried, soaked in bisque or tossed in etouffee. After reading this book, I realize how much work is required to get them in that form. It takes about seven or more pounds of whole crawfish to get a pound of meat. Mercy. Or should I say Merci?
As the legend goes, the Acadians in Nova Scotia were good neighbors of the lobster. After re-settling in south Louisiana (where they became known as Cajuns), the lobsters missed them and went looking. The journey across the continent was so hard that they shrunk in size and became known as crawfish. These tasty crustaceans have been a culinary delight for a long time and in distant lands. Native Americans probably taught the Cajuns how to eat them. Queen Elizabeth Tudor tried them at least once (though my guess is that they had too much flavor to catch on in Britain.) For a time, Swedes and other Europeans only allowed nobles to eat them. But it was the Cajuns that put them on the map.
As you read Sam’s account, two streams of thought flow throughout. On one claw, he gives the history of crustacean consumption by telling of the harvest methods, the foray into farming, and the development of marketing efforts. Crawfish can be fickle: one year there might be millions of pounds harvested, and the next hundreds of thousands or less. This year was a great example of that – here in north Mississippi we had to wait longer than usual for our first boil because of some cold weather that kept the little buggers from growing fast enough.
The other major pincer of interest is the Breaux Bridge Crawfish Festival. The first festival was held in 1959 on the 100th anniversary of the incorporation of Breaux Bridge, the official Crawfish Capital of the World. And despite a few growing pains here and there which Sam details in the book, the Festival continues today. How do I know? Not long ago I posted a picture of the event I was attending, and asked “Where are you?” The question was rhetorical, but I did get a few interesting responses. One was from a friend (or potential ex-friend, since I was not invited) who said, “In Breaux Bridge, LA, at the Crawfish Festival.”
If you are an avid fan of sucking the head and pinching the tail, this book is for you. If, like me, you don’t mind paying a little extra per pound to have someone else do all that, there are plenty of classic recipes included for you. Like the crawfish, it’s short and savory. Eat this book.

Thanks to the folks at www.historypress.net for the review copy and the images. To follow Sam, check out www.samirwin.net

Backyard Gourmet Grill-Off

Posted on April 10, 2014 by eatsoneate

I’m just going to put it out there. Food Network has nothing on Starkville.
I will give them credit for fueling the nation’s fascination with competition cooking shows. I’ve watched my fair share. But the only things missing from the Backyard Gourmet Grill Off at the Everything Garden Expo last weekend were a concrete floor and a television camera. Oh, and maybe the ten thousand dollar prize.
Two semi-pro grilling teams faced off just outside the north end of the MS Horse Park arena floor. (Thus, the lack of concrete underfoot.) I say semi-pro because both team leaders are in the restaurant business and have grilled competitively, but this day they were “off the clock”. Matthew Bedwell and Mike Nolan came as Accidental BBQ, though after watching them strategize, I saw nothing accidental about it. The other team, Hoss and Little Joe, are known around these parts as John Lee Peeples and Charlie Hester, though it was never made completely clear which one was Hoss and which was Little Joe.

Accidental BBQ

Hoss and Little Joe

Before the event, both teams knew at minimum they’d be dealing with some part of a chicken, ground meat, and a truly mystery ingredient. Though it was patterned to a large degree after Chopped and Iron Chef America, the focus of the Grill Off was to show novice grillers (like me) what we might do in our own backyards. In other words, the mystery baskets were manageable – no dragon fruit, caviar or Captain Crunch from which they would have to derive a charcoal-grilled entrée. Just basic grillable grub.

Kitchen Stadium at the MS Horse Park

Mr. La La Watching the Show

Behind the teams was a table full of basic kitchenware and several shelves of fruits, vegetables, condiments and other pantry staples, thanks to Vowell’s Marketplace, EMCC, Mark Guyton and a few local farms. Each team had access to an extra-large Big Green Egg and two Weber charcoal grills. Forty-five minutes was the time limit from the moment they opened the baskets until the dinner bell rang and “hands off” was called. Three of the four meats in the basket had to be used in some form or fashion, along with one side dish (sweet or savory), using anything in the pantry. They brought their own knives and grilling utensils, and each had an appointed volunteer to do whatever was needed – chopping, washing, or finding the can opener. Ten points were awarded for taste, because really, that’s what matters the most. Up to five more points could be snared for originality and use of the secret ingredients. And it was decided that presentation and plating would serve as a tie-breaker because let’s face it: in the backyard, that’s not really the point.

Hoss, Little Joe and Hop Sing

Matthew, Mike and Henri Sue

The judges for the day were John Correro (of MSU football sideline fame), Cherri Golden (a self-proclaimed “woman about town” and food writer in Columbus), and Chef Shannon Lindell (from the faculty of EMCC’s Culinary Arts department). The emcee was the infamous Hobie Hobart – thankfully nobody on the teams seemed distracted by his shorts. Wes Shelton (of Bell’s Building Supply, the main sponsor along with sister store, Thyme) was the Green Egg wrangler and charcoal guru, keeping all the fires hot for both teams. And should Wes ever become weary of lumber and nails, he is certain to find work as a producer for Food Network. Or someone’s personal outdoor chef.

Miss Moon Pie, Chef Shannon, and Mr. Correro

Guru of the Green Egg

It was quite interesting to see the techniques of both teams in action. One had a Moleskin notebook with the meal planned out as far as was possible after a pre-contest study of the pantry. The other admitted in a post-contest interview that his ideas were forming as he trimmed the chicken. When the baskets were opened, the teams found ground chuck, ground pork, chicken leg quarters and Beaverdam Farms smoked pork sausage – lots of wonderful grilled possibilities.

Mike Checking the Clock

John Lee Working the Grills

Now to the plates. Hoss and Little Joe mixed the ground pork and ground beef to make burgers, stuffed them with Progress Cheese Barn feta and bits of onion, and layered them with slices of avocado and Beaverdam Farms tomato. All that on a Swiss Zopf roll from Milk and Honey Farms. Next to it on the picnic plate was a seasoned chicken quarter smothered with a pineapple/brown sugar sauce, with a kick most likely provided by our friend Tony Chachere. The side was something they called Backyard Beans. The pantry offered black, red and white beans and they used them all, along with grilled onions, peppers and chunks of the smoked sausage.

Charlie Plating the Burgers

The Final Product from Hoss and Little Joe

Accidental BBQ also created a beef/pork combo burger – a mix that really worked. Theirs was topped with farmer’s cheese, garlic mayo (created on the premises from Bountiful Harvest garlic), and a bacon-onion-balsamic jam cooked in a cast iron skillet directly on top of a charcoal chimney. The chicken was put into action by stir-frying it with rainbow peppers and onions – not something you see done every day on a grill. (Then again, I’ve never made bacon jam on my grill either –maybe I need to spend more time down at Matthew’s house.) For the side, they went for a red bean concoction of a completely different sort, mixed with Lancaster Farms green onion, tomato, and corn that was roasted on the Big Green Egg.

Accidental BBQ’s Offering

Matthew Serving it Up

When it was all over and the judges had made their decision, those of us standing around drooling over what they had left behind also had a decision to make – should we trust them and wonder? Or eat the leftovers? Well, as someone who used to live in a country where we ate with our fingers and double-dipped from a communal dish, the decision was easy. I found a clean fork and dug in. No regrets – it was yummy.

“This is what we call, in the restaurant biz, a towel.”

Post-Grilling Wrap-Up

Hoss and Little Joe took home the very first Backyard Gourmet Grill Off Golden Spatula Award (which was neither gold nor an actual spatula, but a prize nonetheless) and bragging rights for the next year. But here’s my suggestion: if you have a chance to eat in either team’s backyard – take it.

Winners of the Golden Spatula

Hobie Was Everywhere!

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Alabama Shawarma

Posted on March 29, 2014 by eatsoneate

Every now and then, all the elements line up to produce the perfect meal. The food doesn’t need to be fancy, but it has to be good – maybe even great. A meal like this could possibly be eaten alone, but it ideally involves good company. Then there’s the environment – it might be in a restaurant, in your dining room or on a friend’s porch – wherever it is, it helps set the mood.
I had one of these experiences on a recent Saturday in Mobile, Alabama. We were on the front end of a long weekend on Dauphin Island and had no set plans. We would go to the beach, we would ride our bikes, we would eat, play games, read books and watch movies. It was time to chillax. But because we did have a wide open schedule and weren’t travelling with a half dozen other people with opinions, we called some old friends living in Mobile and planned a visit.
During our ten years in the Middle East, we spent a lot of time with this family and their kids. In fact, when Son was not quite three years old we sent him up the hill to stay with them for a little while – about an hour later, Daughter was born. We walked together through some rough times, too, and shared a lot of meals through those ups and downs. It had been over four years since we’d seen them – this was definitely an up time.
One of the meals we enjoyed together during that decade across the pond must have been shawarmas and chips – not because I have a specific memory, but because we ate them so much. So it didn’t take much convincing when Papa Lee said, “We’ll take you to lunch at this Syrian restaurant we found – they have great hummus and shawarmas.”
As we approached the restaurant, The Wife spotted a sign in the window that said, “Phone cards sold here.” I took that as a good indication that we were about to experience something authentic. Some of the best tacos I’ve ever eaten came from a place that sold phone cards to Mexico. Makes sense if you really think about it.
7 Spice Restaurant and Grill is located in the back of the 7 Spice Market. The Market itself is a brightly lit treasure trove of Mediterranean ingredients and specialty foods – the Restaurant, though an extension of the same building, is a stark contrast of dark woods accented with paintings and other Middle Eastern objets d’art.
We started with a trio of dips: hummus, baba ghanouj and labneh, served with grilled pita triangles. The hummus was drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with whole chickpeas (which is what hummus is made of, for those who may not have had the pleasure.) Papa Lee and Mama Lisa were right – this hummus was really tasty, with a hint of smokiness that may have come from the streak of paprika sprinkled over it. The baba ghanouj on the other end of the plate, which is a similar dip but made from eggplant, was also one of the better versions I have tried. The labneh in the center may have been the true highlight, though – not because it was necessarily better than the other two, but because it’s not something we see very often. The menu described it as Lebanese kefir cheese mixed with fresh mint and garlic, topped with olive oil. I realized it had been too long since I’d had labneh. I miss labneh.

Top to bottom: Hummus, Labneh, Baba Ghanouj

To sip between bites I ordered Lebanese iced tea, a sweet tea with rose water and orange blossom water. I’ve had rose water-flavored dishes before. My first experience was rose water ice cream in a Persian restaurant in Washington, D.C. Mediterranean sweets (cakes and candies, especially) often have rose water infused syrups poured over them, and I have had my share of those as well. What does it taste like? Well, like the Bard implied, anything that smells like a rose probably tastes like a rose, too. Some love it, some don’t. I prefer lemonade in my iced tea, but I did appreciate the chance to revisit a common flavor of the region.

Lentil Soup with crispy little pita croutons

Now the shawarma. For those unfamiliar with the term, a shawarma is very similar to a gyro in form. The meat is on a vertical spit and cooked (or warmed) by a heat element on the back side of the spit. But while the gyro is usually beef and lamb, ground and formed on the spit and sliced into strips as it turns, shawarmas are often beef or chicken that is instead stacked into a tower of meat that is cut off in little chunks. We often joked about how many boneless chickens it took to make a full shawarma spit. A gyro is usually dressed with tzatziki sauce, lettuce and tomato, and wrapped in a thick pita, but a shawarma might have a garlic sauce, a variety of vegetable complements depending on regional tastes, and a thinner pita wrapped around it. In the “old country” we would buy them by the half dozen, request extra meat in lieu of the raw vegetables (because raw was a good way to get sick) and pay about a dollar a piece, even with double meat. The Mobile versions cost a little more, but were worth every cent. Not only that, it tasted like home, down to the slivers of pickles and French fries (aka chips) interspersed among the chicken.

BEFORE

AFTER

All the elements were there. Street vendor-esque shawarma. Old friends. Arabic music in the background, and a chance to speak a little of the language with Ramez, the owner. After lunch we hit the market and came home with food and drinks we hadn’t laid eyes on in almost five years. Great food with great friends in a great place. Priceless.

7 Spice Market Goodies

Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: Baba Ghanouj, hummus, shawarma | Leave a comment

Food Blog South 2014

Posted on February 20, 2014 by eatsoneate

Meetings happen every day. Some meetings are inspiring. Some not. (No, I’m not talking about YOUR meeting.) Sometimes the less useful ones are redeemed by the snacks or meals that are provided. And every once in a while, all the elements line up just right – like the perfect storm, but in the positive. For me, that means going to a food meeting. Because I don’t just like writing about food, I also enjoy listening to others discuss food, reading what others write about food, and even hearing what others say about writing about food. It’s my thing. The bonus that comes to those of us who flock to food meetings is that there is a pretty high standard expected by the attendees. In short, we eat well.

Such was the case at FoodBlogSouth 2014, not long ago in Birmingham. The crowd was a mix of writers, photographers, and everything in between. Some blog as a hobby and some have turned it into a career. And from what I could tell, everybody was hungry.

By the end of the day, we were all gorgeous.

Like any good food meeting, there was a pre-party. Ours was hosted by John’s City Diner in downtown Birmingham. I walked in to see a few familiar faces, but was quickly distracted by a table stacked with some of the South’s classic dishes. Chicken and waffles – this was my first time to actually have this, and it will be a tough standard to beat. Shrimp and grits – served in a little cast iron skillet, these grits had kernels of roasted corn mixed in, an idea I totally intend to steal. Grilled onion dip – imagine the best onion dip you’ve ever had, then amp it up with chunks of charred onion – perhaps my favorite of the night. Pimento cheese on little squares of toast – can’t beat that. Homemade potato chips sprinkled with melted blue cheese and Alfredo. Barbecue pork sliders. And there was more, but I’m afraid if I keep going you’ll be on your way to Birmingham before you finish reading. (Finish reading – then go.)

Classics from John’s City Diner

The next morning the conference began with breakfast. Urban Standard teased us with what appeared to be chocolate cake donuts topped with chocolate frosting, another donut with dark little bits of something-or-other, maple-pecan scones, and blueberry scones. The chocolate was actually chocolate spice (not a bad combination) – my tongue easily discerned that. The other donut was a post-taste mystery. Not the little bits of berry I had assumed. I recognized the flavor but had to get help from my neighbor to identify it as Earl Grey Tea. Wow. Down the table a bit The Fresh Market had some of the thickest, creamiest yogurt I have enjoyed lately, with fresh fruit and granola. Then I listened to a couple of great speakers, learned how to take better pictures of food, and it was time to eat again.

Earl Grey showed up in a different outfit this day

Lunch featured Alabama Gulf Seafood. I happily waited a long time in line for this – nobody was skipping this meal, catered by the Dixie Fish Company (again, from Birmingham). The first dish was for the veggie lovers in the group – stuffed Portobello mushrooms with eggplant over red rice. Next was triggerfish and crabmeat in butter sauce over Hoppin’ John (rice and black-eyed peas) and greens. I’m pretty sure this was my first go-round with triggerfish, and certainly the first time I’d had grilled fish with Hoppin’ John and greens. I hope it is not my last. On down the table was the second shrimp and grits interpretation of the weekend – this time with a red theme: Royal Red shrimp, trinity (bell pepper, onion and celery, I assume), tomatoes and garlic over McEwen and Sons stone-ground grits. Very different than what I’d had the night before, but I was on a roll. And there were oysters. Thankfully they were fried, covered in a hot sauce, honey and butter mix, and sprinkled with blue cheese – they called them the Orange + Blue. It’s no secret I’m not an oyster guy, but with these I might be on the path to conversion.

Well worth the wait

So by this time I’m full, again, and need a nap. But that’s not happening. So I nibbled my way through the afternoon on Grey Ghost Bakery cookies – my second time to enjoy these, but my first time to try the cinnamon pecan and chocolate espresso flavors. Big T crab and shrimp dips also helped keep me going. Roland foods had puff pastry Twists and fruit Tartlettes. Southern Living made biscuits. And that was just some of what was available for nibbling. Between sponsor samples and the “swag bag” we took home, I’m pretty sure I got my registration fee back in groceries.

Grey Ghost Goodness

When the day was done Fresh Market came back with a snack (meat and cheese tray and sushi) to hold us over until dinner at the after-party. I had a Fresh Market once. I miss it.

What the world needs now is a Fresh Market in my neighborhood!

Thankfully I had about an hour or so between the snack and dinner, plenty of time to get hungry enough to eat again. Good People Brewing Company hosted us, and Sunday Gravy NYC did the feeding. The main dish was also called Sunday Gravy – tender chuck steak, pork shoulder, meatballs and sweet sausage in a red sauce over pasta. Undoubtedly the meatiest pasta sauce on the planet. Dessert was courtesy of High Road Craft Ice Cream – you know I had to stay around Birmingham for that. They called it an ice cream sandwich, but it was unlike any other ice cream sandwich I’ve ever loved. The “bread” was a little sugar bun – imagine a big donut hole, sliced and slightly heated on a flattop grill. A scoop of Pistachio Honey Ricotta gelato in between, and a quick roll in praline pecans. The ice cream sandwich bar has just been raised.

I’ll have an order of Sunday Gravy and seven ice cream sandwiches, please…

It is good to eat at a food meeting with other food people (who tend to be very nice people, I might add.) It is very, very good.

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Milk, Bread and Snow

Posted on February 10, 2014 by eatsoneate

There is a threat of inclement weather here in Mississippi tonight. A THREAT. I have seen photographic evidence that the bread aisle at a major grocery outlet has been purged. I fear the same for the dairy department. So what do you do with bread and milk when snow and ice keep you home for a few days (or in our case, until noon tomorrow)? I pulled this out of the archives from January, 2011, in case you need some tips.

I tend to stay a little behind. A case could certainly be made that this is due to my gift of procrastination, but we can discuss that tomorrow. I live on the cutting edge of fashion, circa 1997 – that’s the year I got married, and my bride has been trying to bring me up to date ever since. I am always leap years behind in technology. We did buy a flat-screen TV, and one of my New Year’s resolutions was to get our 1998 VCR hooked up to it so we can watch all our VHS tapes.

I was behind yet again this week in preparing for the winter storm. I saw a friend at Wal-Mart Friday who was traveling to Oklahoma on Sunday – that is, she said, if the snow doesn’t keep us from going. I assumed she meant the snow in Oklahoma. Then I heard Sid Salter talking about the mad rush Mississippians make to the grocery whenever snow is predicted, and how it would probably be gone by Monday. Hmmmm. Maybe I should look at the weather. Sid probably doesn’t care if it’s snowing in Oklahoma. Usually it’s my daughter who is calling the time-temp-weather number as soon as she arises, and she had not mentioned anything of a blizzard. Then my wife went to the store to get some bread – not because of snow – we were just out. She said the crowd was crazy – I was beginning to catch on.

I have always been curious about the near desperate race to obtain milk and bread prior to a storm. First of all, what can you do with just milk and bread? If the roads are so bad that I have to camp inside for a few days, what can I actually make with those two ingredients alone? I know I am not the first person to ask these questions, but I have never really seen answers, either, so I decided to explore.

I began by “googling” my own brain. The search results were limited. Of course, there is the simplest of the simple: a glass of milk and a piece of toast. That might work for breakfast for a day or two, but it could get pretty old three meals a day for the rest of the campout. French toast is another, more exotic possibility – but it usually requires eggs. Ditto for bread pudding, but let’s be honest: I do enjoy a good bread pudding from time to time, either sweet or savory, but is that really what people are planning to make with their precious milk and bread?

Clearly I did not have much luck rummaging around my own mind for milk and bread recipes, so I moved on to the world-wide inter-web and searched my favorite recipe site. The first key words I tried were “bread and milk”. The number one recipe was titled, believe it or not, “Bread and Milk”. Being a copyrighted recipe, I won’t repeat it here, but it was extremely simple and only required a bit of sugar to supplement the basics. The rest of the top ten was much more interesting: three bread puddings, two kinds of meatballs (plus one meatball sauce that didn’t even call for bread or milk), two canederli’s (Austrian style liver dumplings with speck), and a lasagna. I wonder how many people clogging the aisles over the weekend were stockpiling ingredients for liver dumplings? Seriously, speck?

Finally, just for kicks, I searched for “milk and bread”. Again, at the top was the milk/bread/sugar dish, then two bread puddings, another set of meatballs, cretons (some sort of breakfast pork spread – really, Emeril?), Maid of Honour cakes, cinnamon rolls, two varieties of mac and cheese, and a sausage scramble that didn’t even call for bread. Some of these sounded pretty good, but most required far more ingredients than just milk and bread. The lasagna asked for twenty extras. Wow. And trust me, unless you keep the rinds from Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese hanging about, it is unlikely you are making this lasagna during a snowstorm.

After doing this intensive research I’ve come to several conclusions. One, I need to install the weather app on my phone. Two, as long as I am risking life and limb to get to the grocery before the next storm, I should get eggs, too. Three, since the snow began to fall I have had neither a drop of milk nor crumb of bread. Finally, Austrians must really know how to shop for snow days – I went to the grocery last night, and they are still out of speck.

Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: bread pudding, inclement weather, milk and bread, sid salter, snow, speck | Leave a comment

No Rules

Posted on January 23, 2014 by eatsoneate

As far as I’m concerned, there are no rules when it comes to cooking. Yes, there are some common sense principles to guide us so that we don’t outright ruin the food – we must be teachable – but rules are optional. When I originally began pondering this idea, I was fresh from watching an Iron Chef America episode where chocolate was used in every course. It was especially intriguing, given that there was very little dessert offered among the courses. Chocolate in a savory dish? Isn’t there a rule against that? Apparently not, according to the Iron Chefs.

Shortly after that rule-smashing episode I went exploring at the grocery store and came home with sun-dried tomatoes and banana pepper rings. I had no recipe in mind – I just dig ‘em. For lunch that day, we decided to have tuna salad and I thought it would be fun to add both the tomatoes and peppers, with a splash of spicy brown mustard. For The Wife this was a bit of a stretch – thankfully, it was a successful stretch. You see, I come from a loaded tuna salad family: sweet pickle relish at a minimum, sometimes eggs, apple if we got really ambitious, and pecans if Younger Brother and I were not involved in the meal. Then I married into a family that defined tuna and mayo thrown together in a bowl as tuna salad. So for a while I lived in the least common denominator rather than make two different batches. When we lived overseas, tuna and mayo were easy to come by, but sweet relish was a rarity, so it turned out to be an easy paradigm to live under. On the other hand, during our first week as expatriates in that Kingdom of Far, Far Away we were treated to tuna salad with mandarin oranges and raisins. I was thunderstruck. A fruit other than apple in my tuna? It was so simple, yet added so much flavor. Perhaps this is where my interest in grilled fish with fruit salsa was born. You never know.

Have sun-dried tomatoes and banana peppers ever been used in tuna salad before? (Or since?) I don’t know. And it doesn’t really matter. I branched out, I enjoyed it, and I would do it again. But in the interest of full disclosure, there are also times I branch out and enjoy it but don’t do it again. As the Iron Chef judge said about her chocolate entrée, sometimes once is enough. On that matter I just have two words: lamb fries.

They were great. Once.

The premise behind my rant is this: there’s a first time for everything. Not a very original phrase, I grant you, but I can’t think of a better way to say it, either. As the historians surmise, men ate raw meat before lightning struck it once – or perhaps they dropped a bit of wooly mammoth in the fire and realized it was better that way. I’m sure Glug thought his neighbors were crazy when he saw them dropping their meat in the fire at the All-Day-Grunting-And-Dinner-In-The-Cave meeting the following week.

Who was the first person to pour milk on their cereal? I pondered this as an older child, and decided to try Cranapple juice on Cheerios as a snack. Sure, it was different, but it was a good different – I ate/drank it many times after that and have good memories of the combination. My experiment was completed long before Googling was possible, but since then I have searched and discovered that others have followed my lead in breaking the cereal/milk rule. I found references to orange juice, coffee, yogurt, Bailey’s Irish Cream, and melted butter – just to name a few – all poured over dry cereal. I felt vindicated. (And for the record, I offer this disclaimer: I am not recommending that anyone eat a bowl of Bailey’s and Wheaties in the morning – certainly not the breakfast of champions.)

Even Son has been subtly trained in the idea of “almost anything goes.” When I was but a youngster, we were gifted a shaker of Tony Chachere’s Cajun Seasoning, and began to use it in just about everything that required salt and pepper. I brought that habit to the marriage, and eventually bought a separate salt-shaker just to add a little class to our Tony’s on the table. The Wife didn’t understand – she thought that if I was adding Tony’s to her food, it must mean I didn’t like it. It took a while to convince her that it was just like adding salt – the label even says so – and I was only enhancing the already wonderful flavor of her meal. Son, who didn’t like to use common toothpaste because it was too “spicy”, soon picked up on the Tony’s habit. Go figure. He went through a phase when he would shake it on his breakfast toast, his cheese sandwiches. Daughter, not to be outdone in the rule-breaking category, eats a Nutella-on-white-bread sandwich several days a week. (No Tony’s.) No rules.

Put it on the pedestal it deserves.

In the end, can we just agree that rules are relative? Most chefs turn their collective noses up if steaks are cooked much beyond medium, but my Maw-in-Law doesn’t know that rule. If her steak doesn’t get confused with a charcoal briquette, she sends it back. Rules or not, it is still wise to employ common sense. If you live in a pork-free zone as we did for ten years, and you get your hands on a Boston butt, you take exquisite care of it and don’t play. It’s not worth the risk of ruining it with over-experimentation. But if you live near the Piggly Wiggly and can afford to toss a failed experiment in the trash if necessary, I say go for it. Put some chocolate in your casserole or glaze your ham with a Cranapple juice reduction. Just go easy on the Kahlua in the morning – that’s not what they mean by Special K.

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Time for Donuts

Posted on January 4, 2014 by eatsoneate

I think it’s time we talked about donuts. I know they come up a lot in my travelogues, but I’m pretty sure I have never devoted all my allotted words to the subject. And why not now, when just about everybody is resigned to the fact that it’s the holidays – all diets are off and all gym memberships are inactive until January 2, anyway. A perfect time to explore the exciting world of fried dough.

Ultimately, that is what we are talking about – fried dough. And we have been frying dough for a long time. The form may have changed, but even in the book of Leviticus (verse 12, chapter 7) the Hebrews were instructed to present offerings of peace and thanksgiving in the form of fried cakes of fine flour. Sing it with me now: “I eat donuts, this I do, for the Bible tells me to.” (That may not be the way you learned the song, but people add verses to hymns all the time.) A plain donut straight from the hot oil through the glaze waterfall is definitely something I can be thankful for.

My Kind of Freshness Movement

Let’s camp here a moment, near the hot oil. I’ll go out on a limb here and say that a fresh, hot donut as described above has no real equal when one takes into account the total experience. It’s almost as if one is biting into sweet, sticky air. There is a shape until a bite is taken, then the dough practically melts in the mouth. This is why I look for the illuminated “Hot Donuts Now” sign whenever I am in the vicinity of a Krispy Kreme store. (Some will even give you a free one if you make it in under the glow of the red neon.) This is why at Shipley’s I scan the scene prior to placing my order to see if there are hot ones on the rack. I may still have a sausage roll, apple fritter or blueberry cake in my clutches, but if there are hot, plain, glazed donuts available, I must have at least one. I must. And this is why I practically inhaled (to carry forth the air analogy) two of the round beauties at work not long ago, just after having a perfectly good low-carb breakfast at home before I arrived. I have no willpower with hot donuts. I attribute some of my behavior to my parental units, who taught me early in life that even a day-old donut is pretty good heated, a habit made even easier with the invention of the microwave. (Yes, kids, there was a day in my lifetime when they did not exist. I am that old.)

Allow me to make another blanket statement: I am not a donut snob, per se. I’ve just finished John T. Edge’s book, “Donuts, An American Passion” in which he speaks both of corporate giants (like Krispy Kreme) and local artisanal donut makers. Though I am normally the anti-champion when it comes to chain restaurants, with donuts I make an exception. I like the fact that a hot glazed Krispy Kreme in Columbus, Mississippi, is essentially equal to a hot glazed Krispy Kreme in Kuwait. And I can testify that they are. I have not had a Shipley’s as far away as Houston, TX, but I have had them in Oxford, and the same principle holds true. Even the blueberry cake I had at the Dunkin’ Donuts in Dubai satisfied the same craving as it did here in the US of A. Which brings me to another point in my “I am not a snob” soliloquy. My favorites outside of a hot glazed are apple fritters and blueberry cake, hands down (and sticky). But I will not turn away from any other flavor or filling if that’s all that’s left in the box. No uppity donut critic here.

John T. also mentions that in a pinch, he has been known to deep fry canned biscuits with holes cut in the center. I can also testify to the surprising goodness of that recipe, and its crazy simplicity. I tried the same method last week with canned cinnamon rolls with mixed success, but I won’t let that deter me from trying again.

Neshoba County Fare

Another childhood favorite in the donut category is the dunkin’ stick. The idea, I assume, is to dunk the stick in coffee or another appropriate beverage. That may be good, but I prefer just to eat them out of the wrapper, right outside the service station where I tend to find them most often. Yes, I could probably buy a whole box from any Little Debbie purveyor, but having a whole box of dunkin’ sticks at my disposal is a dangerous wager. There is an undefinable flavor found in these pastries and a texture that is hard to match in any other. Though I will say that a good cruller does share some of those ethereal characteristics.

Donuts are inspiring. Edge also wrote three other books about iconic American foods: fried chicken, apple pie, and hamburgers & fries – all were subtitled, “An American Story.” But donuts are “An American Passion.” Dough for thought. Comedian Tim Hawkins has been heard to say that eating a Krispy Kreme is like eating a baby angel. A bit irreverent, perhaps, but clearly he has been affected profoundly by the experience. The heavenly beings are also evoked by writer and humorist Roy Blount, Jr, who said, “Krispy Kremes are to other doughnuts what angels are to people.”

I have had a donut sundae: donut base topped with ice cream and other decadent toppings. I have had donut cobbler: so sweet it sets your teeth on edge but so good you don’t care. I have had a donut burger: don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. I have made donut French toast: try it with a cake donut, it just works better. Donuts are a paradox: international but local, timeless but ephemeral, sinful but angelic. Eat a hot one soon.

Donut French Toast

Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: blueberry cake, book of Leviticus, fried dough, Krispy Kreme | Leave a comment

Late to the Sushi Party

Posted on December 16, 2013 by eatsoneate

It has come to my attention that I am late to another party. It’s not the black dress shoe party – just last week I replaced the ones I’d been wearing since 1987. It’s not the DVR party, because we upgraded to one of those when we moved houses last month. And I’m not talking about the iPhone party, either, though I’m still waiting for just the right moment to jump on that bandwagon. I’m talking about the sushi party.

Though the term was already familiar to me, I faced sushi for the first time twenty-six years ago (not long after I bought the aforementioned black dress shoes.) The scene was a grocery store in Hawaii, the location of my summer job. My host, Geno, stopped at the supermarket on the way from my orientation to his house, where I would be staying for the next three weeks. There was sushi everywhere, but it wasn’t the kind of sushi I expected. This sushi was mostly rice in a seaweed wrapper. Where was the raw fish, I wondered?

Over the course of those three weeks, I went on a culinary tour of Asian food that I would dearly love to repeat. Prior to the pick-up, I went with my orientation group to a Mongolian Barbecue place that I still remember fondly. With Geno I discovered delicious Chinese food that to this day I have yet to see on a mainland menu, Korean Barbecue (who knew?), and Japanese tempura. It was at the Japanese restaurant that I truly began my sushi-cation. (That’s not a sushi vacation – I’m not quite ready for that yet – I’m talking sushi education.) Geno and his wife, Emiko, had already explained that sushi was more about the rice and the wrap, and that it may or may not include the raw fish I had long assumed was the essential ingredient. Raw fish, I learned, is actually called sashimi.

While I crunched happily away on my tempura, Geno ordered a plate of sashimi and offered me a bite. I don’t think he actually double-dog-dared me, but I didn’t want to leave the island without at least trying it. I doubt I chewed it very long. More likely I treated it much as I do a raw oyster: heavy on the sauce and light on the tongue time. But I tried it. Check sashimi off the bait – er, bucket – list.

Since that summer I could probably count on one hand the number of bites of sashimi I have had. In this same time period sushi (with or without sashimi) has become a sensation across America. My first encounter with something akin to a California roll was a couple of years ago here in Starkville at O.E.C. Japanese Express. I thought it was pretty good, and I was surprised to see all the ingredients that are going into sushi these days.

Despite the positive experience, two years later I doubt I have had another bite. If I go to Umi and have to choose between sushi and hibachi, I’m going with hibachi. I get dinner and a show, and I love that ginger sauce on everything they throw at me – literally. It won’t surprise you, then, to hear that on a recent trip to Oxford for a show of another kind, I was a bit wary when College Buddy suggested we check out the new sushi place. But we have eaten together many times in the last few years and he has yet to lead me astray, so we agreed to meet him and his wife at Jinsei.

Here’s the funny part. I didn’t order sushi. And there were plenty of options that actually included seafood that been properly battered and fried as the good Lord intended. Yet I did end up with two plates of raw meat.

The Wife ordered nachos for the table. I thought this was a bit odd for a Japanese restaurant, though I am certainly not averse to going out on a culinary limb. The chips were triangular and there was an adaptation of guacamole, but any similarities to Tex-Mex nachos ended there. This dish had shredded cabbage, carrots, edamame and little bits of barely-seared tuna. It took a little getting used to, but I ended up enthusiastically eating my fair share.

That’s Nacho Tuna…

College Buddy got a couple of fancy sushi rolls for dinner but I stuck with a hot dish. A very hot dish, in fact. 525 degrees, according to the server. They called it River Rock Kobe, and it was the river rock, brought to the table on a bed of rock salt, that was so blooming hot. On a separate plate were about six thin slices of Kobe beef and a little dish of ponzu, a soy-based citrus sauce. This was a DIY dinner. I took a slice of Kobe, dipped it in the ponzu, and laid it on the rock a few seconds per side to cook it. There was smoke, there was sizzle, and it was delicious. Dinner and a show.

Hot Rock on Rice

I may not quite be inside the party just yet, but I’m working my way to the door. Maybe if Little Dooey would put together a little pulled pork, a crawfish tail, and a tempura-fried dill pickle inside some Cajun dirty rice, and roll it all up in a turnip green, it would be an easier transition.

Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: Japanese cuisine, Kobe beef, Korean Barbecue, Sushi | Leave a comment

Thanksgiving Memories of Granny

Posted on December 6, 2013 by eatsoneate

I’ve had an idea for a while, and a few weeks ago I got the ball rolling. My maternal grandmother – aka Granny, Miss Ruth, or Mrs. Etha Mann – turned 97 years old last June. At the Carrington Nursing Center last Mother’s Day, she was declared the oldest mother in the place and she was downright proud of that distinction. The idea was to pick her brain, essentially interviewing her about the kinds of foods her family ate and how they were procured and prepared back in the early part of the 20^th century. Her memory slipped from time to time, but she could tell tales of her childhood and quote large volumes of poetry from her many years as an English teacher at Belmont High School. I figured she would easily be able to pull out some food stories from those days as well.

When I mentioned this idea to her, she said something along the lines of “Oh, law…”, as if she wouldn’t be able to recall anything – then she launched immediately into a story. As a young girl, she told me, they would put butter in a bowl at the table and smooth it out so that it was perfectly rounded on top. When they had mashed potatoes, they prepared them in much the same way – rounded on top – and the two bowls looked almost exactly alike. As the story went, another little girl was visiting one day and Granny spotted a bowl of potatoes, told her friend it was butter, and proceeded to eat a big spoonful. Apparently this elicited the desired shock from the friend, and a gleeful giggle from Granny, then and now as she told me the story.

I’m thankful that I got that story, because she left this world just a few days after that visit. I will remember her for a lot of things – calling me Dr. Pudding Reed (and by admitting this publicly I am NOT giving any of you permission to call me that), correcting my grammar and pronunciation on a regular basis, making sure I knew she “loved me good” – and food stories that I didn’t have to ask about because I was there. I may have told a few of these stories before, in some form or fashion, but this time I think it’s okay – Granny liked to tell the same stories over and over again, too.

Mann-Reed-Keys Family Holiday Photo, Circa 1986

Granny was known first and foremost in the family for her iced tea. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it did approach addictive. Three or four family-sized tea bags, a small can of frozen lemonade, and at least a cup of sugar – that’s the basic recipe for a gallon of tart-sweet joy. These days it is harder to find the smaller can of lemonade, and I suspect she put more than a cup of sugar in there most of the time, but the key ratios are there. A few years back several of us in the family met for a pre-game tailgate at Hotty Toddy U, and as has been known to happen in the Grove, there was family silver on the table. We only had one token piece – a silver pitcher full of Granny’s tea – perfectly appropriate for the occasion. And I have some in my refrigerator now.

Beyond the family she became somewhat famous for her fish fries. Until recent years when she was unable to navigate the kitchen as well as before, I can remember very few visits when we did not have fried fish, hushpuppies and slaw at least once. Oftentimes we were involved in catching the fish – bream or catfish, usually – after which we would sit on the back porch with my grandfather, Pappy, and clean them. Okay, we would watch him clean them. What we didn’t eat would be dropped into empty milk cartons, filled with water, and frozen until we visited again. She cut the whole catfish on each side so that you could easily pull off a bite at a time with your fingers. At her table I learned to enjoy the salty crunch of a fried fish tail. And if I ever master her hush puppies, I will know I have arrived.

There were always lots of desserts to choose from, and Granny was almost always thinking of me when she made them. As a child and on into early adulthood, I would not get near coconut or pecans. (The coconut is still abhorrent to me, but I have learned to tolerate and even enjoy pecans in some forms.) If she was making something with pecans in the recipe, and it was possible to do so, she would make half with nuts and half without. Chocolate sheath cake in particular was always lumpy on their side, smooth on mine. She made a great caramel cake, too, and that is no easy feat. The penultimate dessert at Granny’s house, however, was the Purple Cow: Nugrape soda over vanilla ice cream, preferably in a Therm-O-Ware tumbler.

The Perfect Purple Cow

Granny also brought food into the little sayings she would repeat now and again. If someone complained, “If I just had this, then I would do that” her automatic reply was, “If I had some ham, I could have some ham and eggs, if I had some eggs.” I confess I have adopted that one.

Granny was bedridden for the last two years, so she hadn’t sat at the Thanksgiving table in a while, but we’d still take her a little plate and spend some time at her side. This Thursday I expect it’ll be a little tough for us, but we know she is feasting at a spectacular table, one that she can walk to on her own power, where she won’t have to worry about her sugar level, and with Pappy at her side, who’ll be happy to take his dessert right in that little puddle of pot liquor on his dinner plate, thank you very much.

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Vardaman Sweet Potato Festival

Posted on November 26, 2013 by eatsoneate

Mississippians are truly fortunate. Those reading this within the blessed border should already know what I mean. Those reading from foreign lands like Cyprus, Egypt, or Kentucky may be suspicious. We do get a bad rap sometimes because of various and sundry rankings, some of which may or may not be related to our interest in frying our edibles. But the truth is that we grow some of the healthiest food in the country. Consider the sweet potato.

According to a poster I recently saw on the wall of the school cafeteria in Vardaman, The Sweet Potato Capital of the world, sweet potatoes are virtually fat-free, cholesterol-free, and loaded with anti-oxidants like vitamins A, C and E. I even saw a couple of references that made the claim of it being one of, if not THE most nutritious vegetable around. Mississippi definitely has reason to be proud as one of the top five sweet potato-producing states. And according to the poster, 90% of the ones grown in Mississippi are within a 40 mile radius of Vardaman. Sweet potato capital, indeed.

As I began to think about this subject, I was sitting in BIN 612 having lunch and added a sweet potato to my order. Nutrition aside, I like their versatility. Baked, I can take the cinnamon/brown sugar route or simple salt and pepper (both must have butter.) Mashed, they go in my biscuits, cornbread and grits. I like them diced in my soup or sliced and candied like Mama used to make. It didn’t cross my mind until my lunch arrived that the next day I would be headed to Vardaman for an afternoon of sweet potato eating. I ate it anyway, but I’m sure all the other folks at the BIN wondered why I was grinning at my food.

This was my second year as a judge for the annual Sweet Potato Recipe Contest, held on the last day of the week-long festival honoring the orange root. You would think I would have learned something from last year, when I waddled away from Vardaman, full as the proverbial tick. But no, my attempts at moderation were defeated. I succumbed to the versatility of the sweet potato and the creativity of the worthy cooks of Vardaman, Mississippi. Willingly.

After the judges were paired up, we were asked if we had a preference of categories. I knew we couldn’t go wrong in any of the genres, but given the proclivity for pies and cakes, I wanted to check out the savory recipes, so my partner and I headed off to the miscellaneous table. Some of the entries were still sweet, such as the Sweet Potato-Pineapple casserole, a Sweet Potato Honey Bun Cake that may have been the sweetest bite in my mouth that day, and a Sweet Potato Flan. A Sweet Potato Harvest Dip, served with vanilla wafers, was contained in a pig, cleverly carved from a fat sweet potato; had there been a design category, this surely would have won. Something called Tater Wraps was also on the sweet side – a chunk of sweet potato wrapped with strips of dough and smothered in glaze – one of my favorites of the day.

Sweet Potato Wraps

We did eventually get to the savory dishes I had requested. There was a Sweet Potato Shrimp Dip, a Sweet Potato Salad (think normal potato salad, but with pineapple instead of onion and lots more color), and Sweet Potato Cornbread Poppers. The Poppers were little cookie-sized pieces of cornbread that were dotted with lots of other veggies, too, including greens. Vardaman Trash was basically a hot refried bean and cheese dip with chunks of sweet potato mixed throughout. Definitely a first for me, but I liked the sweetness the potatoes brought to the bite. Leading the winners in this category was something called Southwestern Duo, another hot and spicy dip with chicken, black beans, corn and – of course – sweet potato. (That was kind of a requirement.) Multiple bites of this certainly contributed to the difficulty I had in sitting up straight an hour or so later. Rounding out the winners was another first that I hope is not the last: Sweet Potato Deviled Eggs. Just like regular deviled eggs (if there is such a thing as regular), but with pureed sweet potato mixed in with the yolks.

Sweet Potato Cornbread Poppers

The one savory dish in the men’s category was a dip called Sweet Buffalo Chicken. The buffalo sauce may have taken over the sweet potato in flavor and color, but hiding all that nutrition underneath the melted cheese might be a good way to get the kiddos to eat more of it! The men of Vardaman also provided us with a Ponana Pudding Pie (you can probably figure out what was in that one) and perhaps the most unique recipe I saw that day: Sweet Potato Tomato Soup Cake. Granted, there was not a lot of tomato soup in the recipe, but still – it’s not an everyday ingredient in the sweet shop.

The Youth category may have given us the widest range of dishes. On the sugary side we had the winning Sweet Potato Bars and a Loaded Baked Sweet Potato (with roasted pecans and caramel sauce). A Sweet Potato Omelet was a breakfast option and a Quesadilla represented international food.

The Mayor’s Cup winner was Wilma Johnson for her Simply Delicious Sweet Potato Cake. (It was.) Lindsey Wade took second for her Sweet Potato Caramel Butter Bars – I couldn’t quit eating these. Third place was Barbara Williams for a Sweet Potato Chocolate Chip Pie. It had coconut in it, but it looked like the kind of pie I would otherwise love.

Sweet Pig-Tato

Once I had tried everything I wanted (and snagged a cream cheese-stuffed muffin for the road) I moved the seat back as far as I could safely go, loosened my belt buckle, and regretted not wearing pants with an elastic waist. Happily stuffed, and a bag of Vardaman’s finest in the back seat, I set out for home.

Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: BIN 612, sweet potato, Vardaman Mississippi, Vardaman Sweet Potato Festival | Leave a comment