I did it. I made it 30 days without eating meat, no seafood, either. A lot of you out there didn’t think I could do it. In the beginning, I wasn’t sure if I could do it.

Now it’s over and, after today, I can start writing about something other than my intimate relationship with vegetables. This navel gazing has gotten old, even for me, who has spent my entire writing career navel gazing.

Unfortunately, the navel that I am gazing into today is a little deeper than the one I was gazing into 30 days ago. I didn’t lose weight. I actually gained one pound as a vegetarian.

Many have written and asked about my re-entry into the carnivorous lifestyle. I heeded the advice of many of you who suggested I do it slowly. Though I probably didn’t do it as slowly as I should have.

After a breakfast and lunch spent nibbling on a sausage patty and taking a few bites of a gyro sandwich, I found myself in the Renaissance Center in Madison, Mississippi in the middle of the afternoon, sitting in the new Five Guys burger franchise eating a hamburger and French fries.

Of all of the burger chains, Five Guys is my favorite. The burgers are good, but what I love are the fries (maybe it’s my newfound vegetarianism). Five Guys serves the best fries on the planet, bar none, end of discussion.

I’ll have a full review of Five Guys in a future column, but the afternoon snack of a hamburger ended up being the last meal I’d eat that day— so much for a slow re-entry.

A doctor friend of mine told me that my 30-day vacation from meat left me with no enzymes in my system to help me digest animal-based proteins. I won’t go into any details here, but the friends who warned me to take it slowly were right.

Jimmy Buffet had a hit with a semi-novelty song that he still performs in concert. Cheeseburger In Paradise was written after spending several weeks at sea drinking carrot juice and eating sunflower seeds. His craving was for charred beef and cheddar mine was for ribs.

I had been dreaming about barbequed ribs for three weeks. On day two of my carnivorous re-entry, my wife threw a surprise birthday party for me at Leatha’s BBQ Inn, home to my favorite fall-off-the-bone barbeque. I ate well— I had earned the right to do so.

The theme of the evening was meat and more meat. There were cow balloons and gag gifts and plenty of good-natured ribbing (pun intended). A very talented local gourmet cake baker— Kathy Davenport of Sweet Creations— baked a birthday cake that looked exactly like a large baked ham, studded with cloves and finished with a pineapple ring and cherry on top— amazing. It was the perfect finish to an interesting month.

My aim was true. I took the vegetarian challenge and didn’t waiver. I expected to get a month’s worth of comedic material for this column, what I got was the knowledge that limiting meat in one’s diet is probably a good thing.

Will I ever become a full-time vegetarian? No. Will I take one or two days a week to eat only healthy vegetables? Probably. Do I still love ribs? Yes, especially when it’s followed by ham cake.

Remember to Eat Your Fruits and Vegetables

It’s a Christmas Eve feeling, this thing I’ve got. Remember when you were seven-years old and couldn’t wait for Christmas morning— so much so, that you couldn’t sleep the night before. That type of anticipation and excitement is rare for those of us who have passed the third grade. There’s an anticipatory energy one feels at that age. It’s in the air, it’s electric and it’s magical, it’s running through your body, and it’s real.

I feel it today. Christmas is 12 weeks away, and third grade is a distant memory, but the anticipation and excitement I am experiencing right now— this very second— feels the same.

It’s meat, or at least the thought of meat. And not just any meat, ribs. Coming in a very close second to ribs is steak. Oh how I love steak, let me count the ways.

Welcome to day 28 of my 30-day journey into vegetarianism. Three days left, I can’t wait.

Just a little less than a month ago, I took the PETA Challenge. The group posted a billboard in Florida with a fat woman in a bikini with the headline “Save the Whales Go Vegetarian.” Many were offended. I was amused. Somewhere along the way, I read of the PETA 30-day challenge: Go veggie for 30 days and lose weight.

I certainly need to lose weight, and not being one to back down from a challenge, I took it. So here I am, four weeks in, still alive, with all of my wits about me (my wife would disagree), still able to engage in a fairly intelligent conversation (many others would disagree), and still a vegetarian— for at least three more days.

Amazingly enough it hasn’t been too hard. That statement surprises me even as I type it. I had probably never gone two consecutive days without eating some type of meat.

What has surprised me most is that people didn’t believe me. Many thought I was just doing it as column fodder, and secretly scarfing down bacon behind the scenes. I’ve had countless people walk up to me in restaurants over the last month. “Is there any meat in that?”

I was in a Waffle House last week— that’s right, Waffle House, it’s where we vegetarians love to eat (waffles don’t have any meat in them, hash browns, either). My two children and I had finished eating and were about to get up when a gentleman and two ladies walked over to the table, “Got any sausage or bacon over there?” The Veggie Food Police are everywhere.

Much to the surprise of my family and friends, I have not cheated. Not even a bite of animal based protein. I wouldn’t even let my wife cook peas with bacon or use chicken stock in the beans.

The problem is that I haven’t lost weight. At one point over the last four weeks I was up four pounds. Today, I’m hovering at the same weight I was when I took the challenge.

I didn’t set out to prove PETA wrong. I certainly didn’t do this to gain weight. I just thought it would be a fun challenge. I will be the first to admit that I would have lost weight had I lived on a diet strictly made up of fruits, vegetables, and whole grains. I might have gone insane, but I would have lost weight. Instead, I ate a lot of bread, candy, and fried food— but no meat.

I haven’t missed chicken at all. Sausage? No problem. Bacon? Once or twice. Hamburgers? I mainly miss the convenience.

I want some ribs. I’d like to eat a steak, too. It pains me that I have missed the best month for soft-shell crab we’ve had in five years. I will be eating crab in three days, count on it.

While researching this column, I read where PETA planted fruit trees in honor of people who went vegetarian for 30 days. Over the last few weeks I have become pen pals with the PETA president, Ingrid Newkirk. I wonder if Ingrid will plant a fruit tree for me. And if so, what type of fruit tree does an overweight carnivore with a new respect for vegetarians warrant?

Barbara Jane’s Layered Cream Cheese Spread

2 TBL olive oil

1 /4 cup onion, minced

1 tsp garlic, minced

1 1 /2 tsp Creole seasoning

1-10 ounce package frozen spinach, thawed and squeezed dry

1 pound sharp cheddar cheese, grated

1 /2 cup toasted pecans, chopped

1 /3 cup mayonnaise

3 Tbl sour cream

1 Tbl Creole Mustard

1 Tbl parsley, chopped

2 8-ounce packages cream cheese, softened

1 /4 tsp salt

1 /2 tsp black pepper, freshly ground

1 /8 tsp cayenne pepper

1 /2 cup peach or apricot preserves

1 /4 cup green onions, minced

1 /4 tsp ground nutmeg

Line a 9x5 inch loaf pan with plastic wrap.

Heat olive oil in a medium sized sauté pan over medium heat. Cook onions for 3-4 minutes. Stir in garlic and Creole seasoning cooking two more minutes. Stir in spinach and blend well. Remove mixture from heat and allow to cool.

In a mixing bowl, stir together the cheddar cheese, mayonnaise, sour cream, toasted pecans, Creole mustard, and parsley. Blend it very well, and spread half of this mixture into the bottom of the lined loaf pan.

In a separate bowl, combine one package of the cream cheese and the cooled spinach mixture. Blend well and spread over the halfed cheddar-pecan layer of the loaf.

Next, spread the remaining cheddar mixture into the loaf pan.

Using the paddle attachment of an electric mixer, beat remaining cream cheese until light and creamy. Add salt, black pepper, cayenne pepper, preserves, green onions, and nutmeg. Spread final layer into the loaf pan and wrap very tightly with plastic wrap.

Refrigerate for 4-6 hours before serving (also freezes well, must thaw eight hours before serving).

To serve, sink the loaf pan into a warm water bath for 1-2 minutes. Do not let water seep into plastic and reach mold. Unmold onto serving platter and remove plastic wrap.

Yield: 20-25 appetizer servings

Zombies, and Skydivers, and Bears, Oh My

Welcome to day 21 of my 30-day journey into vegetarianism.

I have learned a lot over the last three weeks.

I have learned that there are many in-the-closet vegetarians out there, and if one writes about becoming a vegetarian, they will out themselves. They’re like zombies in a low-budget horror movie. When the sun goes down the zombies come out and wander slowly through the streets. With vegetarians, after you become one, they will show themselves to you. Vegetarians don’t wander aimlessly like zombies, but they do walk a little slower, I think it’s the lack of meat-based protein.

Note: Save the emails. I know that Zombies aren’t vegetarians. They are carnivores. They eat people. Vegetarians would never eat people.

I might be the only person in history who has successfully cited zombies and vegetarians in the same column.

I have also learned that vegetarians are like skydivers. They want to talk everyone who is not one, into becoming one. I have had several friends through the years who became skydivers. They spent half of their waking hours talking about jumping out of planes and the other half trying to convince other people into jumping out of planes. Vegetarians are the same way. They want to draw you in; it’s their passion. I respect that.

I have learned that I love ribs. No, I really love ribs. I mean I really, really love ribs. If I weren’t married I would move to Vermont and enter into a legal and binding marriage contract with ribs, right this second.

I miss bacon a little bit. I could eat a hamburger or two, and I plan on eating a ribeye steak the size of Pensacola in a few weeks. But what I dream about is ribs.

My newfound vegetarian friends have warned me to ease back into my carnivorous lifestyle at the end of the month. I trust that they know what they’re talking about. But my birthday is October 2nd and I plan on spending the entire night in Leatha’s BBQ Inn dousing myself with barbeque sauce, dancing on the tables, and eating a mastodon-sized slab of ribs— my honeymoon.

I have learned that once you announce your vegetarianism, people will send you food. I received a huge ice chest from a Canadian company called Gardein. The chest was filled with several of their products. As I write this column I am eating Gardein’s “Classic Style” Buffalo Wings.

Meat-free wings— I’m not sure what they’re made of, but they look kind of like Buffalo Wings. The package says “water, soy protein, wheat gluten, and ancient grains.” I don’t know what ancient grains are, but I think that there’s probably a reason they didn’t make it into the modern world.

Actually, Gardein’s meat-free Buffalo Wings tasted a little like what I remember Buffalo Wings tasting like. The texture was slightly off. My bookkeeper said that they tasted like the thigh of a chicken. No problem, there. I love thighs. Maybe it’s been so long since vegetarians have eaten chicken, this will suffice. Final verdict: Vegetarians will love this stuff.

My friend Jill Conner Browne took pity on me and sent a vegetarian care package filled with all-natural Indian sauces and rice products from a company called Tasty Bite. Good stuff, that.

Nine more days.

Onward.

Life Through Spinach-Colored Glasses

Welcome to day 14 of my 30-day excursion into vegetarianism.

Here are some observations from the other side.

Observation 1.) I’ve actually become a carbotarian. As long as it doesn’t have a face or a tail, I’m eating it. Pancakes, French fries, bagels, hash browns, nachos, Cap’n Crunch, and cheese pizza all have one thing in common— no meat. My motto this September: No meat, I eat.

My wife said, “That’s cheating. You’re supposed to be eating only vegetables.” Who said so? I have several good friends who are vegetarians. They love pancakes and stuff like that. I’m just following their lead. No veggie burgers and soy patties for me.

Observation 2.) People walk up to me in restaurants and check my plate. “Got any meat on there?” one man said last week. Nope, just waffles, eggs, and hash browns.

Observation 3.) I forgot how much I love seafood. I don’t think I’ve ever gone 14 days without seafood. That’s 14 days with no shrimp, no fish, no oysters, and no crabmeat. No crabmeat.

The one consolation going into this challenge was that it’s been a bad year for soft-shell crab. At least I won’t be missing soft-shell crab, I thought. Wrong. After a spotty spring and summer, now in the fall, when soft-shells are usually dwindling, we’ve got abundance. It’s some type of late-season fluke that we haven’t seen since way before Hurricane Katrina. It’s killing me.

Observation 4.) Forget water-boarding, I know true torture— sitting in my restaurant eating the Vegetable Sampler— sautéed spinach, roasted asparagus, mashed potatoes, and sugar snap peas, while the table of four next to me is eating Soft-Shell Crab.

When we added all of those vegetable options to the menu, I had no idea I would be relying on them so much. I have become the best customer for the Crescent City Vegetable Sampler. Fried Green Tomatoes, Cheese Grits, and steamed broccoli don’t have a face or a tail, so they’re all fair game. Book it, October 1st, I’ll be eating soft-shell crab for breakfast.

Observation 5.) PETA, the group that has sent me hate mail for 10 years, now loves me. I received an email from the president of PETA this weekend.

Yes, people are joining you: Steve-O just did (see new blog on peta.org). He has lost weight, but he did cut out the dairy and eggs too. Kind regards, Ingrid Newkirk, president, PETA

Observation 6.) The folks at PETA are obsessed with people who eat dairy and eggs.

Observation 7.) I am not going to give up dairy and eggs.

Observation 8.) If one writes in the newspaper that he is going to become a vegetarian for a month, many will follow. It’s amazing. There have been over 100 people who have written or approached me in public to tell me that they are going vegetarian with me in the month of September. Fools.

Observation 9.) People who eat fried chicken live longer. I just read an Associated Press story about the death of the world’s oldest person. Gertrude Baines died last week. She was 115-years old. The article stated that her favorite foods were, “Fried chicken, bacon, and ice cream.” I knew it.

When the doctor visited Baines last week, she only complained of two things: Pain in her right knee, and her “bacon was soggy.” Think about that, you make it 115 years, and— despite all of your potential maladies— your top priority is the crispness of your bacon. God bless that woman. There’s a special place in heaven for her, and plenty of bacon, too.

Observation 10.) I miss fried chicken

Observation 11.) No Southerner should ever have to give up fried chicken. It’s against some type of law or code we have down here, I’m sure of it.

Observation 12.) Actually, I don’t have an Observation 12; I just needed an even dozen to end the column.

Onward.

Creamy Tomato Soup

18 Tomatoes, ripe

1 tsp Canola oil

1 1 /2 cup Onion, minced

1 /2 cup Carrots, shredded

1 /2 cup Celery, minced

1 Tbl Garlic, minced

1 /4 tsp Dried Basil

1 tsp Black pepper, freshly ground

1 /8 tsp Dried Thyme

1 quart Hearty Vegetable stock

2 cups Robert St. John’s Bloody Mary Mix (can substitute V-8 juice)

1 /2 cup Butter

3 /4 cup Flour

2 cups Cream

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Place tomatoes on a baking sheet and roast 25 minutes. Remove from oven and allow to cool. When cooled remove the skin. Rough chop the tomatoes and set aside, reserving as much juice as possible. In a large heavy-duty stockpot heat canola oil over medium heat. Add onion, carrot, celery, garlic, salt, pepper and dry herbs. Cook for six to seven minutes, until vegetables become tender. Add chopped tomatoes and their juice continuing to cook for 10 minutes. Stir often. Add in broth and V-8 juice and bring to a slow simmer.

Melt butter in a small skillet over medium heat and stir in flour to make a light blond roux. Stir the roux into the simmering mixture and continue cooking for 10 minutes.

Add cream and bring back to a simmer. As soon as soup reaches a simmer, remove it from heat and serve.

The Unlikeliest Vegetarian Part I

Welcome to my life as a vegetarian, day seven. Strange things are happening.

I am living life as a vegetarian during the entire month of September. I am eating nothing with a face or a tail, and believe it or not, I’m still alive and breathing.

The following is what I have learned, so far, as a neophyte vegetarian:

1.Cinnamon rolls aren’t made from meat.

2.) Neither are French fries

3.) One can easily gain weight on a vegetarian diet (I’ve gained two pounds in one week), see numbers 1 and 2.

4.) When one announces in the newspaper they are to become a vegetarian for a while, others will follow. Many others.

5.) When others are following your eating habits, the pressure increases tenfold.

6.) Football games remind me of barbeque ribs.

7.) I miss barbeque ribs.

I am the unlikeliest of vegetarians. I don’t believe I have ever even gone two days without eating some type of meat. Correction, I have now gone seven days.

The Special Projects Coordinator for PETA sent an email on my second day. Jenny Browning stated that she was “delighted” that I had become a vegetarian. In the next paragraph she said, “Although cutting meat—and its loads of saturated fat—from your diet is likely to result in noticeable weight loss all by itself, milk and eggs are similarly laden with fat (and cholesterol), so most people get the best result by choosing to eat only plant-based foods.”

No way, sister. I’m not giving up milk. Sure milk and eggs are laden with fat, but I’ve already given up steak, ribs, bacon, and cheeseburgers— did I mention ribs? There’s no way I’m giving up milk.

I gave up drinking and other recreational vices 26 years ago. I quit smoking 14 years ago. I got married, and basically gave up sex. Now I have given up meat. Bank on it, I’m going to drink milk, and I’m going to eat scrambled eggs while I do it.

Browning went on to state, “It can be a bit challenging at first to learn to cook and eat without meat, eggs, or dairy, so our Web site, VegCooking.com, is filled with useful information, including recipes, shopping tips, and restaurant guidance, for people who are new to vegetarian cooking and dining.” Do you see how she snuck the no-milk-and-eggs line in there, again? Now it’s implied that I’m going to give up eggs and milk. Not gonna happen.

She says that she’s sending me the PETA Vegetarian Start-Up Kit and two cookbooks, but she better hurry, I only have 23 days left.

I have also been featured on the PETA website. Talk about strange bedfellows, I’ve been getting hate mail from these guys for years. In “The PETA Files” Karin Bennett says, “for 30 days the meat-loving columnist will forgo the bacon and buffalo wings, which means that some pigs and chickens will be spared from winding up on his plate. Our advice to Mr. St. John? Stay away from dairy foods too, Seriously, you could gain two pounds just by looking at cheese fries.”

Three points:

1.) There they go with the milk thing again. What’s up with these people?

2.) Note to self- cheese fries don’t have meat. Thanks, Karin, I hadn’t thought of those.

3.) I don’t eat Buffalo wings.

I wonder if members of the Beef Council or that pork group, you know, the-other-white-meat guys, are going to send me letters and books when I come back into their fold the first day of October. Then again, maybe at the end of September, I’ll decide to go another 30 days. Stranger things have happened.

Stuffed Tomatoes

6 large tomatoes, not too ripe

2 Tbl Olive Oil

1/4 cup Shallot, minced

2 Tbl Yellow Onion, minced

1/4 tsp Salt

1/4 tsp Black Pepper, freshly ground

1/2 cup Tomato Pulp, scooped from tomatoes and chopped

1 Tbl Fresh Orange Juice

1 tsp Worcestershire Sauce

1/4 cup Pesto

1/3 cup Italian Seasoned Bread Crumbs

Remove the core of the tomatoes, and slice across the very top of the tomato.

Using a teaspoon, scoop out about one tablespoon of the pulp from each tomato and roughly chop it

Over low heat, heat olive oil in a small sauté pan. In the sauté pan, cook the shallot, onion, salt and black pepper for 5 minutes. Add the tomato pulp, orange juice Worcestershire sauce and cook 4-5 minutes more. Remove from the heat and stir in the pesto.

Divide the mixture evenly among the hollowed-out tomatoes. Sprinkle bread crumbs over tops of the stuffed tomatoes.

Prepare the grill. Cook tomatoes over direct medium heat for 5 minutes, rotating tomatoes one quarter turn and cooking for 3-5 minutes more. Serve immediately.

Yield: 6 servings

Vegetarian II

I write this on the eve of one of the most daunting and challenging days of my life.

The sword of Damocles is dangling above my head. I am encompassed by a sense of foreboding and live in fear that much wailing and gnashing of teeth is looming just around the corner.

Our country might be in the worst financial straits its seen since the Great Depression, but that is the last thing on my mind, today. Tomorrow the boom is lowered. Life, as I have known it for 47 years will cease to exist. Pain and suffering are real and near and I’m counting the hours.

I haven’t been asked to appear in court as the defendant in a complex legal matter. I’m not about to run a marathon, or compete in an iron man competition. I’m not getting prepped for major surgery, and as far as I know, the Attorney General and I are in good standing.

My pending doom is much worse than that. Tomorrow I will become a vegetarian. This hunter-gatherer is abandoning the hunt and embracing his inner gatherer. My Damoclesian sword is made out of bean sprouts.

Several weeks ago, I made the decision to become a vegetarian for a month. That day has finally come. I began to have second thoughts yesterday, but it’s been printed in over 30 newspapers across the South and I’ve spent three days answering questions and emails about my upcoming dalliance into the world of herbivores. I’m locked in.

I know nothing about being a vegetarian. Up until now, I have always believed that “Vegetarian” was just an old Native American word for “Poor hunter.” I come from a long line of carnivores. My daughter tried to be a vegetarian once. It lasted two weeks. Once she learned that vegetarians aren’t supposed to eat bacon cheeseburgers, she threw in the towel.

Actually, I have learned that I will be a Lacto-Ovo-Vegetarian— no beef, pork, poultry, fish, or seafood— nothing with a face or a tail. I could have been a Lacto-Vegetarian, but I like eggs, and milk and I’m going to need all of the non-tofu protein I can get.

Being a Vegan was never in the cards. I’m a milkaholic and staking my success on copious amounts of cereal, oatmeal, cheese, scrambled eggs, scrambled eggs with cheese, and ice cream. Besides, the name “Vegan” sounds like a villain on Star Trek. Weren’t the Vegans those green-skinned people from the Crab Nebula?

One of my all-time heroes— Paul McCartney— is a vegetarian, and has been for a long time. I will draw inspiration from that

I’ve received a few dozen emails from readers who plan to “go veggie” with me during the month of September. Who knew that I, a lifelong and devout carnivore, would ever be the Pied Piper of the Bean Sprout Set? I hope I don’t let them down. I don’t think I’ve ever gone two days without eating some type of meat.

The newspapers that publish this column do so on different days of the week. No matter which day it is published, it is always written on a Monday morning. Today’s column is being written on Monday, August 31st— my last day before crossing over to the dark side. Depending on which paper you are reading, I might have been a vegetarian for one day or six days. As for this day, I am on my way to eat a bacon cheeseburger— my last one for at least 30 days. I had both sausage and bacon for breakfast, and I’ll be eating steak tonight.

Keep me in your prayers.

Spinach Madeleine

2 packages Spinach, frozen and chopped

3 /4 tsp Celery salt

4 Tbl Butter

3 /4 tsp Garlic salt

2 Tbl Flour

1 /2 tsp Salt

2 Tbl Onion, chopped

1 Tbl Jalapeno, fresh, minced

8 oz package Cream cheese, cut into pieces

1 can Evaporated milk

1 tsp. Worcestershire sauce

Vegetable liquor

Red pepper to taste

1 /2 tsp Black pepper

Buttered breadcrumbs

Cook spinach according to package directions. Drain and reserve liquor.

Melt butter in saucepan. Add flour, stirring until smooth and blended. Add onion and cook until soft, but not brown. Combine milk and vegetable liquor until you have one cup of liquid. Add liquid slowly to onion/flour mixture, stirring constantly to avoid lumps. Add seasoning and cheese. Stir until melted. Combine with cooked spinach. Place in casserole dish and top with buttered bread crumbs. Yield: six servings

I am about to be a vegetarian.

I’m not going to be one of those I-still-eat-chicken-and-fish vegetarians. I am going to be a die-hard, I-eat-nothing-with-a-face-or-a-tail vegetarian, a hardcore vegetarian, a no-turkey-with-my-tofu vegetarian.

For the entire month of September, I will abstain from eating beef, pork, poultry, fish, or seafood of any kind— nothing with a face or tail. For those who have followed this column for the last 12 years, this development will come as a 90-degree fork in the road. Some might think it a ruse. It’s not. While veg-heads have always been an easy target for this column, I am doing this for real. I’m taking that fork in the road and loading it with broccoli. This devout carnivore is about to become a yogurt and sprout eating bunny hugger.

There’s been a big stink in the news lately. The animal activist group PETA, posted a billboard in Florida with a photo of an obese woman in a bikini with the tag line, “Save the Whales, Lose the Blubber: Go Vegetarian.” A lot of overweight people were offended. I’m a fat person, and I thought it was funny. If I had my choice, I’d rather see PETA’s scantily clad model campaign, but I don’t mind a good chuckle at the expense of a fellow fat person.

I wasn’t offended, though I was intrigued by the premise. Could I lose the blubber by going veggie? It sounded like a challenge to me, so I’m going to take the challenge.

The next five columns will chronicle my journey into the dark side of living as an herbivore. No ribeye steaks, no barbeque pork ribs, no cheeseburgers, no bacon sandwiches, not even a can of tuna fish. As of September 1st, it’s sayonara sushi, hello beans and greens.

Some people might find it easy to make a decision like this at the spur of the moment and hang in there for a month. Not me. I have put a lot of thought into it. My career revolves around food. Creating food, serving food, writing about food, and— most importantly—eating food. For the past 47 years beef, pork, poultry, and fish have been at the center of my writing, the center of my heart, and in the center of the plate.

As I’ve pondered this, I have actually begun to look forward to the challenge. I like the hip, cool way that I say, “I’m going to be a vegetarian.” Sometimes when I’m feeling really hip, I just say, “I’m going veggie.” I think it makes me sound like I know what I’m doing. My wife says it just makes me sound like a dork.

I feel cool typing it. V-e-g-e-t-a-r-i-a-n. Ahhh. I’m no longer the overweight hunter-gathering carnivore. I’m a vegetarian. A 21^st Century man. I’m going to find my Birkenstocks, buy some clothes made from hemp and break out the nuts and seeds.

I’m taking the PETA challenge. Some friends have asked, “Why now? Why September?” Others have guessed that I chose a month with only 30 days. Stay tuned for answers to those questions and many more.

Two things are for certain— on August 31st, I’ll be eating steaks and hamburgers, and a month later, on October 1st, I’ll be eating sausage, bacon, and ribs. But in the meantime, I’ll be living off of legumes, fruit, and bread. I’ve got a free pass on the cheese train. Hello pizza. Hello French fries! I might actually be the first vegetarian who gained weight by giving up meats.

Pineapple Pico (grilled fish topping)

1 1/2 cup fresh tomatoes, small dice

1/4 cup red onions, small dice

2 Tbl green onion, thinly sliced

1/2 tsp fresh garlic, minced

2 Tbl. cilantro, chopped

2 tsp fresh jalapenos, seeds removed and minced

1 cup pineapple, small dice

1 tsp lime juice

1/2 tsp Salt

Combine all ingredients and refrigerate until ready to serve. Best if made 2-3 hours in advance. Serve atop grilled fish.

Canned Peaches

My friend David invited me to lunch at his club in Jackson. The club was nicely decorated and comfortable. In one room there was an upscale buffet and in another a salad bar.

I don’t eat at many buffets. Actually, since my neighborhood Thai joint changed hands, I don’t eat any buffets. I have nothing against them; it’s just a personal quirk.

As I was browsing through the club’s salad section, I saw a bowl full of peaches— not fresh peaches, even though we’re in prime summer peach season— canned peaches. I was ambivalent about the salad bar anyway, so I looked at the canned peaches and said— why not?

I skipped the lettuce, chicken salad, slaw, cheese, and creamy dressings, and opted for a small plate filled with peaches.

Back at the table, David looked at my plate, and then looked at me with a quizzical stare. “It’s peaches.” I said

“Yeah, but they’re canned peaches,” he replied.

Note: If you are a chef or a restaurateur, or a cookbook author, or a food columnist, people study what you eat in public places. If you’re all of those things at once, people scrutinize your choices even more. They ask questions like, “Why are you eating here?” To which I reply, “For the same reason you’re eating here.” Some people expect me to eat different foods than most. I don’t. I might eat more, but what I consume on a daily basis is fairly basic.

Back to the peaches.

“I haven’t eaten canned peaches in years, “ I told him. “These taste good.”

As a child, my mother followed the food pyramid of the day and made sure we ate fruits and vegetables. In Hattiesburg, Mississippi, in the 1960s, availability of fresh fruit was limited, so we ate mostly canned fruit.

Supper at our house always consisted of one portion of canned pears, peaches, or fruit cocktail. It was automatic, if supper was being served; one of those items was going to be on the plate.

There were no low sugar options back then. It was a can filled with fruit and thick, sugary syrup. I imagine there was some degree of health benefit, but it was probably overshadowed when I was found flopping around on the bed like Linda Blair on a sugar high, trying to go to sleep after drinking all of the peach/pear juice from the can

Canned peaches don’t really taste like peaches, but they taste more like peaches than canned asparagus tastes like asparagus. Canned asparagus tastes nothing like asparagus. It tastes like English peas.

I hadn’t eaten canned peaches in a long time. It took me back to my youth. Our taste buds seem to have a direct line to the cerebrum. I can go decades without eating something and then can be instantly transported back to the last time— or the most memorable time— I ate that dish.

I love fresh peaches. To me, nothing tastes more like summer than fresh peaches. Whether they come from Chilton County, Alabama, Georgia, or South Carolina, they are my favorite fruit. I have spent my adult life waiting for summer, and the peach harvest. That day at the club, I made a vow to extend my summers and eat the fruit of my youth— canned peaches— more often.

Peach Ice Cream

2 cups Peaches, fresh, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch pieces

3 /4 cups Sugar, divided

1 Tbl Lemon Juice, freshly squeezed
2 Tbl Peach Schnapps
1 cup Heavy Cream
1 /2 cup Milk
1 /2 Vanilla Bean
2 Egg Yolks

In a bowl, combine peaches, 1 /4 cup sugar, lemon juice, and peach schnapps. Cover and refrigerate 2- 3 hours, stirring occasionally.

Remove peach mixture from refrigerator, drain, and reserve the juice. Return peaches to refrigerator.

Split the vanilla bean lengthwise, and— in a medium-sized saucepan— combine remaining sugar, heavy cream, and milk. Heat just until just boiling.

In a separate bowl, vigorously whisk egg yolks. While whisking, slowly add 1 /3 of the boiled cream mixture. Stir well. Add remaining egg mixture to cream mixture. Return to low-medium heat and continue stirring for 5-7 minutes. Just as it begins to simmer, remove from heat and strain into a bowl set over ice. Add the reserved peach juice. Stir well until completely chilled.

Transfer the mixture to an ice cream maker and freeze according to manufacturer's instructions. After the ice cream begins to stiffen, add the peaches and continue to freeze until done. Remove the ice cream from the ice cream maker and store in an airtight container in the freezer until ready to serve.

Yield: 8 servings

Frozen peaches can be substituted

The St.John International Culinary Field Trip of 2009

I just took a trip around the world with my family.

We ate in Italy first, then Japan on the first night, followed by Mexico, India, Austria, Viet Nam, China, Cuba, Morocco, France, with a few stops in different regions of America and at friends and family’s homes along the way. We were supposed to eat in Spain and Ethiopia, but last-minute changes to our schedule got in the way.

Actually, I took my kids on a culinary field trip— 10 days, nine states, 2,500 miles— with the intention of eating in as many exotic and international restaurants as possible.

The plan was developed for two reasons: 1.) We were on our way to Washington D.C., to see the Paul McCartney concert and were going to be in the family truckster for 10 days. I didn’t want to live off of fast-food drive-through crap. 2.) I wanted my kids to experience as much of the world’s cuisine as possible. Well, actually three reasons: 3.) I wanted to eat as much of the world’s cuisine as possible.

My 12-year old daughter has a sophisticated palate. She has always eaten whatever we have ordered. The eight-year old boy, on the other hand, usually decides he doesn’t like something even before he has tried it. The battle ensues, we make him try it anyway, and seven times out of 10 he says something like, “Hey, that’s good. I like that.”

For the purposes of this trip, we gave the boy one veto and one fake stomachache. He used the fake stomachache at an Indian restaurant in Asheville, NC, but never used the veto. Good stuff, that.

The daily journal entries from the trip can be found on my Facebook page for those who are friends, or my blog www.nobodyspoet.blogspot.com .

The Top 10 Highlights of the St.John International Culinary Field Trip were:

10.) Sweet Potato Pancakes with Cinnamon Cream Syrup in Nashville

9.) Milk Chocolate Mousse lollipop at my friend, Donald Barickman’s restaurant, Cypress.

8.) Tie: Indian food in Asheville at restaurant Mela— and—Watching my kids eat Mexican popsicles for the first time.

7.) Pork Belly appetizer with a port wine reduction at Muse in Charleston.

6.) Thai in Winston-Salem at Downtown Thai.

5.) Sunday brunch at Kuba Kuba in Richmond, VA

4.) Breakfast with my friend in Winston-Salem (a lady made my grandmother's brownies for the road)

3.) Lunch in D.C. at a friend's house overlooking the Potomac. Beautiful

2.) Watching my son sing "Hey Jude" at all-out, full volume, while he thought no one was watching during the Paul McCartney concert.

1.) A 12-course dinner at Cypress in Charleston with cousins I haven't seen in a long time— the most memorable item being a Candied Pork Belly appetizer. Great food, close family, and engaging conversation, always make for an excellent evening.

My children might score the trip differently. I am sure that Mexican Popsicles in Nashville, burgers and fries at Top Chef winner, Spike Mendelsohn’s joint in D.C., or the Milk Chocolate Mousse Lollipop would reign supreme on their list. But I’m betting that the family memories we created in those 10 short days will follow them well into adulthood, and way past the food recollections.

In our Washington hotel, just above the breakfast buffet, there was a humorous photograph of a man in an old-world setting who was holding a dining table off of the ground using only his teeth. Basically, he had the whole table in is mouth. That image became a metaphor for the trip.

I am the man with the entire table in his mouth. It’s my lot in life— that, and being a dad. Good stuff, indeed.

Pilates, anyone?

Candied Pork Belly with succotash fricassee

Courtesy of Chef Craig Deihl, restaurant Cypress, Charleston, SC

Succotash Fricassee

6 cups water

3 tbsp. kosher salt

1/2 cup butter beans

1/2 cup crowder peas (black eyed peas are a good substitution)

1 cup hominy

4 tbsp. butter

¼ cup minced chives

2 tbsp. kosher salt

1 tsp. white pepper

1. In a heavy bottom saucepan combine butter beans, crowder peas, water and salt.

2. Bring to a low simmer and cook for 25 minutes, skim off any scum that rises to the surface. The beans should have a firm skin with a soft and creamy inside. Remove from heat and shock the beans.

3. Mix the beans and the hominy together.

4. With a sauté pan over medium high heat add the butter until melted, add the hominy mixture and cook until hot. Add the chives, salt and pepper. Incorporate evenly, taste and adjust seasoning if needed.

Pork Belly

2 Lb. Pork Belly (skin On)

2 tbsp. kosher salt

1 tbsp. White pepper

1 tbsp. Fresh sage Chopped

1 tbsp. Fresh thyme chopped

2 tbsp. Garlic crushed

¼ cup honey

2 tbsp. Sherry or Apple cider vinegar

2 tbsp. Butter

2 tsp. Kosher salt

1 tsp. cracked black pepper

1. Preheat oven to 275 degrees.

2. Using a sharp knife score the skin of the pork belly in a checkerboard design.

3. Rub the pork belly on both sides with salt, pepper, sage, thyme and garlic until evenly coated.

4. Place pork Belly in a roasting pan skin side. Place in the oven and back for 3 hours, turn oven to broil and cook for 10-12 minutes until the skin puffs up evenly.

5. Remove from oven and let rest for 30-40 minutes at room temperature.

6. Using a serrated knife Cut the meat into a ½ inch thick pieces and reserve.

7. Place the honey, vinegar, butter, salt and pepper in a large sauté pan. Place the pieces of crispy pork belly in the pan.

8. Place over high heat and cook until honey is syrupy and glazes the pork belly.

To plate

Place a small pile of succotash in the middle of a plate. Place the pork belly on top of the succotash. Using a ladle, nape the pork belly and place some of the sauce around the plate.

Yield 6-8 people

Sashimi Tuna and Kumomoto Oysters

with cilantro lime glaze and pineapple wasabi

Courtesy of Chef Craig Deihl, restaurant Cypress, Charleston, SC

Glaze:

1/2 tablespoons chopped cilantro

1/2 tablespoon chopped mint

2 tablespoons squeezed limejuice

1/2 teaspoon lime zest

3 tablespoons mirin

3 tablespoons rice wine vinegar

2 tablespoons honey

1 teaspoon Sambal chili sauce (Sriracha Chili paste can be substituted)

2 tablespoons fish sauce

1. To make the glaze combine all the ingredients in a small mixing bowl and incorporate evenly. Place in the refrigerator to chill.
2. The glaze can be made a day in advance.

Pineapple Wasabi:

3 tablespoons pineapple juice

2 tablespoons ground wasabi powder

1. To make the pineapple wasabi combine pineapple juice and wasabi and incorporate evenly.

20 fresh Kumomoto oysters (in shell, stored on ice)

small bowl salt water

1-pound sashimi grade tuna

4 cups crushed ice

Cilantro leaves

2. Scrub the oysters free of dirt and debris using a small brush.
3. Using an oyster knife, remove top shell of oyster; detach the bottom of the oyster leaving it in the half shell. Check the oyster for any shell or grit. If there is excess grit, rinse with saltwater; otherwise leave the oyster in the shell.
4. Cut the tuna in 20 equal size blocks, about the same size as the oysters. Place the tuna on top of the oysters.
5. Place 1 teaspoon of the glaze on top of each oyster. Finish with a small dot of the wasabi.
6. On 4 serving platter place the crushed ice and top with leaves of cilantro (this will be used to keep oysters cold and from sliding). Place all of the oysters on top of the cilantro and crushed ice and serve immediately.

Yield: 4 Servings

Culinary Field Trip- Day One

Tuesday, July 28, 2009 at 8:42am

We hit Birmingham around lunchtime. I had a quick business meeting and then we went to Bottega for lunch.

I am a fan of Frank Stitt and have eaten at Highlands Bar and Grill, often. The meals have always been great.

Bottega was an overall disappointment-- slow, unconcerned service, long waits from the kitchen, and only one entree that was memorable.

Strike One.

We made it to Nashville late in the afternoon and I wanted to take my kids to Las Paletas to have Mexican popsicles-- closed on Mondays.

Strike two.

We went to Gi Gi's cupcakes instead.

To cover the Vietnamese leg our our international culinary tour, I had planned on dining at Kien Giang. This was high on my list. They, too, were closed on Mondays.

Strike three. We're out!

We ate at a sushi restaurant in our hotel-- Hotel Indigo on West End Blvd. They had a band in the lobby and an art gallery opening, too. Good rates, large rooms, wireless internet. Highly recommended.

My iPhone is acting quirky when I try to upload photos. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Here's hoping that day two will be more productive. We're on our way to the Pancake Pantry for Sweet Potato Pancakes before heading to Asheville.

Culinary Field Trip-- Day Two

Tuesday, July 28, 2009 at 10:09pm

Breakfast at The Pancake Pantry-- it was the kids first trip there, they loved it. Sweet Potato Pancakes with Cinnamon Cream Syrup rock!

Lunch at a Mexican chain-- kid's choice, tableside guacamole, though-- excellent! Good salsa, too.

Mexican Posicles at Las Paletas-- I had a plum popsicle, son had mango, daughter had lime, wife = strawberry and cream. All are homemade and made fresh every day. I am glad there's not one of these at home, I'd be 100 pounds heavier and singlehandedly change Mississippi's obese statistics.

Long drive across TN and western NC in the rain

Staying in a new hotel in Asheville-- The Grand Bohemian, just across from the Biltmore's front gate... a little garish, though cool in areas... best in-room a/v system I've ever seen... ever... worth the tackiness.

Dinner at Mela-- Indian cuisine-- killer naan, daughter loved the Tandori Lamb, son was not a fan of Tandori Chicken, but he ate it anyway. I have given him one "free no" to use on this trip. He decided not to use it here. He did, however, have a fake stomachache. Good shrimp.

Hitting the road early in the a.m., so hitting the sack right now.

Onward

Culinary Field Trip-- Day Three

Wednesday, July 29, 2009 at 9:53pm

Breakfast in Asheville-- Bavarian, potato pancake, Black Forest ham, Swiss cheese, and a poached egg... Austrian chef, Austrian-owned hotel. Typically, I'm not a fan of German/Austrian food, this was good, though.

Lunch in Winston-Salem-- Downtown Thai-- killer Thai cuisine, nice visit with the owner, great downtown, heavy on the arts... good stuff, that.

Afternoon snack at Five Guys-- great homemade french fries. My Buddy, Bill Latham, has purchased the franchise rights to Mississippi... can't wait (my waistline can, though).

Dinner with friends in downtown W-S.-- Meridian--The plan is to visit as many international restaurants as possible -- 10 days, nine states, two children. Tonight's meal was continental (I didn't choose). Though we went to a place for dessert-- Sweet Potatoes-- that was Southern (sometimes considered a foreign country).

Tomorrow-- Breakfast in Winston-Salem, lunch in Durham, dinner in Washington D.C. (hoping for Spanish tapas).

It's a tough job, but somebody's got to eat it.

I'm going to need a colonic!

Culinary Field Trip-- Day Four

Thursday, July 30, 2009 at 9:58pm

Breakfast in Winston-Salem-- met my friend for coffee at Chelsee's while the family was sleeping... joined by several locals, one of whom had read my column about how my grandmother used to give my family a batch of brownies for childhood vacations. Before I left the coffee shop, she handed me a Tupperware container filled with brownies she had prepared the night before-- I was very moved, and extremely grateful. Thanks, Gena, they were great-- as good as my grandmothers (by the way, I just realized I spelled your named incorrectly when signing your cookbooks... sorry)

Across the street to my friend's loft for breakfast-- eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, and sourdough toast-- good food, great company.

Headed to Durham for a business meeting, toured the Duke campus at the request of my son. He says that's where he's going to college, said a quick prayer for future college scholarship opportunities

Ate a few brownies.

Hoped to do Brazilian for lunch, but my daughter got sick to her stomach in the van, and again, and again. Said a quick prayer hoping it wasn't a stomach virus, grabbed some fast food (three of us, at least), and headed north.

Ate some more brownies.

At the recommendation of friends, we ate dinner at Four Sisters in the D.C. area, to make up for the Vietnamese dinner we missed in Nashville on Monday night. Joined by the friends, the day ended up being a success, despite the noon setback.

Brownies for dessert.

Sharing a meal with friends is one of life's greatest pleasures.

Culinary Daily Field Trip Day Five

Saturday, August 1, 2009 at 7:29am

At the midway point, we were forced by our schedule to take a break from the International food mission.

Breakfast at the hotel.

A driving tour with my son highlighting all of the D.C. landmarks. I gave him a lecture on representative democracy (he actually payed attention... was interested, even)

Lunch at a friend's house high above the Potomac. Beautiful.

A quick visit to Good Stuff Eatery for a mid-afternoon snack

Dinner with family in Maryland. Fun.

Sleep....

Family, friends, food, and fun... all day long. Great day.

Culinary Field Trip Day Six

Sunday, August 2, 2009 at 10:32pm

Smithsonian air & Space, and the National Gallery

Lunch in Chinatown-- Eat First... great food... the real deal

Had to skip dinner to drive to Maryland for the McCartney concert. He was 1 1/2 hours late! We could have eaten dinner after all.

Got home at 1am

Not much time to squeeze in food

Paul McCartney Set List

Sunday, August 2, 2009 at 12:14am |

01. Drive my Car

02. Jet

03. Only Mama Knows

04. Flaming Pie

05. Got to Get You into My Life

06. Let me Roll It/Foxy Lady

07. Highway

08. The Long and Winding Road

09. My Love

10. Blackbird

11. Here Today

12. Dance Tonight

13. Michelle

14. Mrs Vanderbilt

15. Eleanor Rigby

16. Sing the Changes

17. Band on the run

18. Back in the USSR

19. I'm Down

20. Something

21. I've got a Feeling

22. Paperback Writer

23. A day in the Life/Give Peace a Chance

24. Let It Be

25. Live and Let Die

26. Hey Jude

1st encore

27. Day Tripper

28. Lady Madonna

29. I Saw Her Standing There

2nd encore

30. Yesterday

31. Helter Skelter

32. Get Back

33. Sgt Pepper's reprise/ The End

Culinary Field Trip Day Seven

Sunday, August 2, 2009 at 10:38pm

Trying to squeeze in as much International/exotic cuisine as possible, we ate at a great Cuban restaurant in Richmond on our way to Charleston-- Kuba Kuba. Great food. Great atmosphere. A small, corner joint in a nice neighborhood. Unconcerned service, but it works in this atmosphere. Grumpy chef in an exposed kitchen- looked like Jerry Garcia. Friendly waiter working the floor looked like a young Castro. Interesting. One of the best meals of the last seven days.

Dinner at a Mediterranean place in Charleston-- Muse. Ate late. Great Hummus. The sauce with the Pork Belly appetizer was one of the best I've ever tasted. Made with a Spanish port.

Drove all day-- 12 hours due to traffic outside of DC. Worn out (yet full and happy).

Goodnight

Culinary Field Trip Day Eight

Monday, August 3, 2009 at 10:37pm

Breakfast at the hotel on King Street

Lunch at Fast & French-- hot ham and brie on a croissant. Great Cream of Broccoli Soup.

Dinner at Cypress with Charleston and Carolina cousins. The candied bacon and the milk chocolate lollipop were as good as any dish I ate at The French Laundry two weeks ago

Sashimi Tuna & Oysters

cilantro-lime glaze, pineapple wasabi

House Cured Salami

Barolo, Tuscan, Coppa, pork puffs, arugula

Candied Bacon

bbq Sea Island red peas, melted leeks

Beef Spring Rolls

spiced cucumber, soy caramel

Scallops & Bacon

hominy fricassee, pork reduction

Almond-Fried Brie

cranberry-walnut chutney, baby greens, champagne vinaigrette

Lobster Bisque

Carolina shrimp, fresh chervil

Dry Aged Ribeye

roasted cauliflower, mustard butter, steak sauce

Filet of Beef

Boursin cheese, fingerling potatoes, asparagus, Madeira sauce

Steak Diane

New York strip, wild mushrooms, Gruyère potato fondue, truffle peppercorn cream

Keegan-Filion Farm Chicken

andouille gumbo, okra & tomatoes

Bread & “Butter”

grilled Tuscan points, pork butter

Crisp Wasabi Tuna

edamame, shiitake mushrooms, ginger-garlic glaze

Beef Oscar

jumbo lump crab, asparagus, crispy potatoes, béarnaise sauce

John’s Island Canteloupe Sorbet

compressed local canteloupe, basil-mint syrup

Coconut Tapioca Crème Brûlée

local peaches, blackberries, white peach sorbet

Milk Chocolate Mousse Lollipop

house made dulce de leche, chocolate chip cookie crumbs

Thanks to Donald and:

Craig Deihl ~ Executive Chef

M. Kelly Wilson ~ Pastry Chef

Onward to Atlanta

Culinary Field Trip-- The Last Entry

Wednesday, August 5, 2009 at 7:42pm

Great lunch in Atlanta at Papi's-- Cuban

Dinner last night at Nava-- Southwestern, killer lobster tacos, a great banana dessert

Lunch at Taqueria Del Sol-- Fish Tacos, yumm

Highlights of the 10-day journey:

Indian food in Asheville

Thai in Winston-Salem

Breakfast with my friend in W-S (a lady made my grandmother's brownies for the road)

Lunch in D.C. at a friend's overlooking the Potomac

Watching my son sing "Hey Jude" while he thought no one was watching during the Paul McCartney concert

Dinner in Charleston with cousins I haven't seen in a long time, but look forward to reconnecting with in the future,

The food item of the trip was a candied bacon (pork belly) appetizer at Cypress in Charleston

I'm going to eat nothing but oatmeal for the next few days... nah

2,500 miles and no major arguments from the back seat.

I will find out how much damage was done when I step on the scales in the morning. I'm guessing six pounds.

RSJ signing off

The Little Things

Someone, somewhere once said something about “the little things.”

I don’t know who it was, why he said it, or what publication it was printed in after he said it. I don’t even know if it was a he. Maybe it was a she who talked about the little things in life. Nevertheless, I know that many times, the little things aren’t “little” at all.

My maternal grandmother did a lot of little things that, at the time certainly, seemed little. But sitting here as a 47-year old father, I realize that they were big indeed.

She is the grandmother who made pancakes. That was her thing. I have written about her, often. If there was a breakfast to be served, and she was in the general vicinity, she was flipping pancakes. It was her thing— out of town, in town, her house, in our house, just about anywhere. It was part of her family identity. It was assumed, and unfortunately, often taken for granted.

She did such a good job with her pancake duties, that I used her recipe when we started our food product company, even naming the item “My Grandmother’s Pancake Mix.” It was an easy item to name, mainly because it is what it is: Her recipe.

One of the great “little things” that she did was make a recipe we called Fudge Cake. It, too, was her thing. She always had it in her house— in a Tupperware container lined with wax paper. Some people have cookie jars, some have candy drawers, my other grandmother always had a pound cake or angel food cake under glass, but not my maternal grandmother. She always had a box of Fudge, so, in the end, not so little after all.

Last week I wrote about my family heading out on an old-fashioned, hit-the-highway, kids-in-the-backseat-asking-when-when-are-we-going-to-get-there family vacation. I mentioned that, when I was a child, my grandmother always gave us a container of her Fudge Cake when we went on vacation. I also mentioned that I hoped my kids remembered Fudge Cake one day. Unfortunately, I forgot one thing— the Fudge Cake.

We packed all of the clothes, all of the magazines, the itineraries, the lists, pertinent phone numbers, shoes, socks, toys, and video games, but no Fudge Cake.

Midway through the trip, a friend in Winston-Salem invited me to gather with his friends for breakfast at his favorite downtown coffee house Chelsee’s in the Winston-Salem Arts District. We sat outside. The conversation was lively and the weather was perfect. Before I left, the coffee shop owner handed me a Tupperware container. She said, “I read your website and made these for you.” I was my grandmother’s Fudge Cake.

I was moved. She didn’t know I had forgotten to make a batch. She didn’t know I had been missing them along the way. She just wanted to do something nice for a visitor heading through town. Talk about little things.

It was perfect. I was already a fan of Winston-Salem, now I was a fan of everyone in the Arts District, especially Dena the coffee shop owner/brownie baker. She liked the recipe so much, she’s going to put Muz’s Fudge Cake on the menu at Chelsee’s.

I’ve included it again today, just in case someone out there is about to take a final road trip. The recipe will also be in my new book coming out this November Dispatches From My South.

Some say that occasionally it’s the little things. I say, it’s always the little things.

 

Muz’s  Fudge Cake

4 Squares       Bakers Chocolate (or better substitute)

2 sticks        Butter

4               Eggs

2 cups          Sugar

1 cup           Flour

1 tsp           Pure Vanilla Extract

1 cup           Nuts, chopped (pecans or walnuts), optional

Pinch of salt

 

 Preheat oven to 350-degrees.

 

Melt chocolate and butter together in a double boiler. Once

incorporated let cool slightly. Cooled chocolate should still be in

liquid form.

 

Mix together the four eggs and gradually and the two cups of sugar

until completely incorporated. SLOWLY pour the slightly warm chocolate

mixture into the egg/sugar  mixture.

 

Slowly incorporate the flour into the chocolate/egg mixture. Add

vanilla, nuts, salt, and mix.

 

Line a pan with waxed paper or parchment. Pour in the chocolate mix.

Bake at 350 approximately 30 minutes or until an inserted toothpick

comes out clean.

 

Remove from oven. Let cool five minutes. Carefully flip the fudge cake

and finish cooling. Once cooled completely, remove wax paper and cut

into squares.

Family Vacation


Today I leave on a 10-day old-fashioned family road-trip vacation.

We are loading up the family truckster and embarking on a 2,500 mile
excursion that will take us through Nashville, Asheville,
Winston-Salem, and up to Washington D.C. with the ultimate goal of
taking my kids to see Paul McCartney in concert. We’ll spend a few
days in our nation’s capital and then swing through Charleston,
Savannah, and Atlanta before heading home.

I am excited about the driving portion of the excursion and look
forward to visiting friends and family at every stop. It seems that
when we travel nowadays, everything is hurried. We are rushing to pack
and leave the house, we always seem to be rushing to the airport, all
of the earlier rushing has left us running late to catch our flight,
and when we finally get there, we’re rushing to cram it all in during
the few short days we’re there.

This trip will be like the ones I took when I was a child— in the car,
taking it slowly, eating our way through the South.

Things are different today. In the 1960s and early 1970s my brother
and I never would have imagined being able to watch movies in the car
during long road trips. All we had were these lame highway bingo
games, and my grandmother’s fudge cake.

We never left home without a wax-paper lined Tupperware container of
her fudge cake. It wasn’t a cake at all. They were chocolaty, chewy,
rich brownies, and my brother and I loved them. It was the one
constant in an ever-changing lineup of vacation destinations. When I
was a kid, I didn’t care about details, itineraries, and schedules. I
just wanted to make sure someone brought the fudge cake

Today, my family makes fun of me, and I guess I have grown a little
more Griswoldian in my old age. I beginning planning a trip months in
advance, and make detailed lists and itineraries of the trip’s
details— hotel confirmation numbers and addresses, telephone numbers,
appointments and the like. But I also compile a detailed list of all
of the restaurants I want to visit in each city along the route.

St. John family vacations place a heavy focus on food. This trip has
an extra purpose, as we plan to add a more worldly focus to our dining
options. Ultimately, we hope to expose our kids— a 12-year old girl
and an eight-year old boy— to a broader range of cuisines, cultures,
and cooking styles.

They have seasoned palates for their age— certainly more than I had at
their age, actually, more than I had in my twenties. But this trip we
hope to push the bar even higher.

It’s easy to venture into foreign and varied cuisines in Washington
D.C, but not so easy in a lot of Southern cities, hence the hyper
planning.

This trip the kids will have their first exposure to true Indian
cuisine; they’ll hit Chinatown, and also visit a true Thai restaurant.
We’ll visit Michelle Richard’s new French Bistro, and they’ll sample
Spanish tapas for the first time. Authentic Mexican and Japanese are
on the program, as well as Low Country food, and what has been billed
as the best burger in America cooked by Bravo’s Top Chef winner, Chef
Spike Mendelsohn.

In the end, I wonder if it’s the dining they’ll remember, or the fudge
cake eaten in the back seat along the way.

I will be blogging live from all of the restaurants over the next 10
days and the meals and comments can be viewed on my Facebook page.





Muz’s  Fudge Cake

4 Squares       Bakers Chocolate
2 sticks        Butter
4               Eggs
2 cups          Sugar
1 cup           Flour
1 tsp           Pure Vanilla Extract
1 cup           Nuts, chopped
Pinch of salt

 Preheat oven to 350-degrees.

Melt chocolate and butter together in a double boiler. Once
incorporated let cool slightly. Cooled chocolate should still be in
liquid form.

Mix together the four eggs and gradually and the two cups of sugar
until completely incorporated. SLOWLY pour the slightly warm chocolate
mixture into the egg/sugar  mixture.

Slowly incorporate the flour into the chocolate/egg mixture. Add
vanilla, nuts, salt, and mix.

Line a pan with waxed paper or parchment. Pour in the chocolate mix.
Bake at 350 approximately 30 minutes or until an inserted toothpick
comes out clean.

Remove from oven. Let cool five minutes. Carefully flip the fudge cake
and finish cooling. Once cooled completely, remove wax paper and cut
into squares.

The French Laundry II

 

For years I have said that if I were ever asked to choose a “last meal,” I would select my grandmother’s leg of lamb.

With all due respect to my late grandmother, I am amending my last-meal appeal. Sorry, Mam-Maw, my last meal is coming from the French Laundry

The beauty of eating a last meal prepared at The French Laundry is twofold: I would be able to eat the most skillfully prepared, best-tasting, unique, subtle, and creative food, prepared by the nation’s most talented chef— Thomas Keller. It would also be an extremely long (in a good way) dinner.

During my most recent visit to The French Laundry, in Yountville, CA, I spent almost five hours eating sixteen courses of the most remarkable food I have ever tasted. If it’s going to be a last meal, it might as well be prolonged as long as possible and filled with world-class cuisine and unparalleled service.

Actually, I have eaten in Thomas Keller’s restaurants in New York, Las Vegas, and Yountville and have always been blown away by the food and service. On this visit, however, the service was more attentive than it has ever been.

We were a group of six, seated in the private dining room on the second floor and the staff was amazing in their efficiency and attentiveness. I am usually “all about the food.” I can always overlook poor service if the food is good. I appreciate service when performed at a high level, but I’m there to eat. On this night the service was— by far— the best I have witnessed anywhere, anytime, in any restaurant.

The menu highlights for me were the Keller classic Oysters and Pearls, where the chef makes a impossibly subtle “sabayon” of pearl tapioca and pairs it with Island Creek Oysters from Duxbury, Massachusetts and caviar. All of the courses were notable, but my other favorites were an egg custard paired with a truffle overdose (again, in a good way), quail with pine nuts and a cherry sauce, and one of the most delicate meat dishes I have eaten— a “Chateaubriand” of Marcho Farms Nature-Fed Veal with applewood-smoked bacon, Globe Artichokes, and “Sauce Barigoule.”

Three years ago, when I dined at The French Laundry, the sommelier noticed that I wasn’t partaking in the wine pairings and asked if he could create a non-alcoholic pairing to go with each food course. The answer, of course, was “Yes,” and what followed were 13 of the most creative beverage pairings I have ever enjoyed. Actually, at the time, they were the only beverage pairings I had ever enjoyed. I had resigned to a life with still water during this type of meal.

When asked if I would like a beverage pairing by the sommelier on this visit, I was excited to revisit the concept. What followed were beverages that were even more creative and inventive than before. Each drink was concocted on the spot, to pair with each specific course. None had ever been prepared before. The sommelier knocked it out of the park— grand slam, homerun, World Series. I was served such creative beverages as Black Cherry Infused Mint Tea with Cardamom-Anise Gastrique paired with quail, and a Kumquat Sparkler with Ginger-Meyer Lemon Infusion paired with a salad of beets and leeks. Amazing.

While the five other guys in my group were being served rare wines, I was drinking beverages created on-the-spot. Everyone was sampling mine, and a few were even envious— a first.

As usual, I blogged the meal in real time on Facebook, and all of the dishes can be seen there. The live blogging was a first for The French Laundry, and I’m not sure they knew what to expect. The restaurant’s New York publicist was nervous and sent several emails asking about the process. In the end, the entire staff went way beyond the call of duty to make this one of my top three meals of all time (the entire menu can be viewed on the newspaper’s website).

When it comes to a last meal, I’m heading to California. Maybe with a little pleading, I can add a 17^th course and have Chef Keller prepare my grandmother’s leg of lamb.

 

 

 

 

 

The French Laundry

Chef’s Tasting Menu

July 15^th 2009

 

compressed fennel bulb

Royal Blenheim Apricots, Arugula and Niçoise Olives

Pommery, “Royal Brut,” Reims MV

Sonoma Sparkler, “Pear,” Sonoma County, MV

 

 

salad of Island creek scallop

English Cucumber, Red Radish,
Perilla and Bonito

 

Lemongrass Infused Sweet Soda with Gin Extract

 

---

“OYSTERS AND PEARLS”

“Sabayon” of Pearl Tapioca with Island Creek Oysters

and White Sturgeon Caviar

---

 

abalone “grenobloise”

Hobbs’ Bacon, Yukon Gold Potato Purée, and Celery Branch

López de Heredia, "Viña Tondonia," Reserva, Rioja 1989

 

“GUS,” Valencia Orange Soda with Medjool Date Essence

 

 

jidori hen egg custard

with a Ragoût of Périgord Truffles

D'Oliveira, Verdelho, Madeira 1973

 

Vanilla “Italian Soda” with Marcona Almond Syrup

 

 

marinated toybox tomatoes

with Cilantro and Raspberry Gelée

F. E. Trimbach, Riesling, “Cuvée Frédéric Émile,” Alsace 1988

 

Cranberry and Key-Lime “Pop” with Eucalyptus “Aigre-Doux”

 

 

 

hand-rolled russet potato “gnocchi”

with Black Truffles from Provence

 

Rhubarb “Cremosa” with Sweet Rice Milk

 

 

 

 “beets and leeks”

Maine Lobster Tail “Pochée au Beurre Doux”
with King Richard Leeks, Crispy Potatoes and Red Beet Essence

François Jobard, Merseult, “Genevrières,” 1^er Cru, Burgundy 2005

 

Kumquat Sparkler with Ginger-Meyer Lemon Infusion

 

 

 

MOULARD DUCK “FOIE GRAS Au torchon”

Port Wine Glaze, Cipollini Onions, Belgian Endive,
Cutting Celery and Toasted Oats

Château Raymond-Lafon, Sauternes 1986

 

Santa Rosa Plum Juice with Kaffir Lime Simple Syrup

 

 

wolfe ranch white quail

Sunchokes, Pine Nuts, Cilantro and Cherry Sauce

Giovanni Corino, “Vigna Giachini,” Barolo 1998

 

Black Cherry-Infused Mint Tea with Cardamom-Anise Gastrique

 

 

“chateaubriand” of marcho farms Nature-fed veal

Hobbs’ Applewood-Smoked Bacon, Garlic “Pain Perdu,” Globe Artichokes,
Nantes Carrots, Parsley Shoots and “Sauce Barigoule”

Dominus, “Estate,” Meritage, Napa 1996

---

 

“hoch ybrig” croquette

Joselito Ham, Arugula and Romesco

La Bastide Saint Dominique, Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Rhône Valley 2006

 

Sparkling Peach Cider with Blenheim Apricot Purée

 

 

 

 

nectarine sorbet

Ginger “Gelée,” Puffed Quinoa and Boysenberry Purée

---

 

“ballon DE chocolat fumé”

Smoked Black Tea, “Glace à la Vanille”
and Tonka Bean Caramel

Cossart Gordon, Bual, 10-Year

 

Boylan’s Rootbeer Float

 

 

 

“coffee and doughnuts”

Cinnamon-Sugared Doughnuts and “Cappuccino Semifreddo”

Dow’s Tawny, Port, 10-year

---

 

MIGNARDISES

 

The Dinner of A Lifetime

 

In 2006, I invited three friends to join me at The French Laundry, in Yountville, CA, for what would turn out to be the dinner of a lifetime.

The French Laundry is widely considered the nation’s finest restaurant, a reputation it has earned over the course of the last 15 years. I wrote about the meal and the subsequent column turned out to be a piece that I am still asked about, today. Looking back through my notes from the meal, I wrote, “I have just eaten the best meal of my life. Hands down. Period”

In the column I stated, “At The French Laundry, excellence seeps from of every nook and cranny and percolates from every personality. It exists— actually thrives— several strata above even the finest restaurants in New York. Nothing compares.”

The meal was served in 32 courses, actually 16 rounds of 32 dishes. Following the dinner I wrote, “After eating a meal such as this, a food writer runs the risk of using overly flowery verbiage and exaggerated adjectives to describe the experience. The problem with this restaurant is that any description I would commit to paper couldn’t do justice to actually sitting in the dining room and experiencing the actual meal. From the maitre d’ to the servers, to the kitchen staff with whom we visited after the meal, everyone was at the top of their game. I couldn’t find one single negative in the entire experience, a rare treat, indeed.”

I didn’t plan for 32 courses, Chef Thomas Keller— the nation’s most talented chef— just kept sending out food, course after course, of the most amazing dishes I had ever eaten. The meal lasted five hours and fifteen minutes, and stands, to this day, as the most amazing culinary experience I have ever been associated with, in a long, food-filled, 47-year dining career. It’s also the only meal I’ve ever eaten that needed a halftime break.

I would print the 32-course menu here, but it comes in a 468 words, which is close to my weekly allotment for the entire column. The menu can be found on Facebook, my blog www.nobodyspoet.blogspot.com, and on the newspaper’s website.

On July 15th I will return to The French Laundry with the same three friends for a meal I have been looking forward to for two years. I don’t know how many courses the kitchen will send out this time, but I know that when left in the hands of Thomas Keller and his staff, culinary magic happens.

I will be blogging live from The French Laundry, uploading a photo of each course as it is served. Those who follow me on Facebook will be able to follow the meal, in real time, course-by-course. If you don’t yet follow me on Facebook, look me up, and sign in. The meal will start at 7 p.m. Pacific Time on July 15^th and will hopefully last long enough to need another halftime break.

 

The French Laundry

Chef’s Tasting Menu

July 17, 2006

SALMON TARTAR IN A TUILLE CONE

CHILLED MELON SOUP

Summer Melons, Mint, and Yogurt

 

CHILLED HAAS AVOCADO SOUP

Haas Avocadoes, Cilantro Shoots and Espelette

Laurent Perrier “Grand Siecle” MV

Sparkling Apple Cider, Sonoma Sparkler

 

BEET SORBET

with Granny Smith Apples and Black Pepper

 

“QUININE SORBET”

with Lime Scented "Gelée" and Fresh Juniper Berry “Tuile”

 

CAULIFLOWER “PANNA COTTA”

Beau Soleil Oyster Glaze and Russian Sevruga Caviar

 

“OYSTERS AND PEARLS”

“Sabayon” of Pearl Tapioca with Beau Soleil Oysters and Russian Sevruga Caviar

 

SOFT SHELL CRAB

Vanilla Mousseline, Bananas and Shaved Hazelnuts

 

“SASHIMI” OF SPANISH BLUEFIN “TORO”

Marcona Almonds, Globe Artichokes, “Mâche” and Pedro Ximenez Glaze

Manzanilla “La Guita”

 

CODDLED HEN EGG

Minced Périgord Truffles and Toasted Brioche “Soldiers”

 

WHITE TRUFFLE CUSTARD

with a “Ragoût” of Périgord Truffles

Barbeito, Sercial, Madeira 1978

Root Beer, Truffle Syrup

 

SALAD OF SUNCHOKES

with Apricot “Confit”, Marinated Peppers, and Curry “Aigre Doux”

 

 

SALAD OF YOUNG GLOBE ARTICHOKES

Baby Leeks, Sweet Carrot “Ribbons,” Red Pearl Onion “Petals,”

Spanish Saffron “Mayonnaise” and Garden Basil

Emmerich Knoll, Gruner Veltliner, 2004, Austria

Lavender and Chamomile “Mimosa”

 

“AGNOLOTTI” OF SWEET GOLDEN CORN

Black Truffles from Provence and Corn Pudding

 

BLACK TRUFFLE GNOCCHI

with Grated Périgord Truffles

Domaine Boillot, Meursault “Les Perrieres,” 2004

“Chaud Froid,”Corn and truffle Cappuccino

 

ROASTED HAMACHI COLLAR

Artichokes, Wilted Arrowleaf Spinach and Lemon

 

SAUTÉED FILLET OF JAPANESE “SUZUKI”

French Laundry Garden Summer Squash, Niçoise Olives, “Fleur de Courgette”

and San Marzano Tomato “Marmelade”

Chateau Simone, Palette, 1998

 

“PEAS AND CARROTS”

Maine Lobster Tail “Cuite Sous Vide,” Garden Pea Shoot Salad

and Sweet Carrot Buttons

 

SWEET BUTTER-POACHED MAINE LOBSTER “MITTS”

Green Grape “Confit,” Melted Belgian Endive, Périgord Truffles and

Sauternes-Lobster Coral Emulsion

 

SAUTÉED MOULARD DUCK “FOIE GRAS”

Medjool Dates, Celery Branch and Pumpkin Seed “Vinaigrette”

 

MOULARD DUCK “FOIE GRAS AU TORCHON”

with Silverado Trail Strawberry Jam and “Frisée” Lettuce

Domaine Weinbach, Gewurztraminer, “Cuvee Theo” 2003

 

“PORK AND BEANS”

All Day Braised Hobb’s Shore "Poitrine de Porc",

with a "Cassoulet" of Pole Beans and a Whole Grain Mustard Sauce

 

WOLFE RANCH WHITE QUAIL “EN CRÉPINETTE”

“Ragoût” of Golden Corn, Applewood-Smoked Bacon, Piquillo Peppers and

“Béarnaise” Reduction

Radio Coteau, “Savoy,” Pinot Noir, 2004

 

WAGYU

Spring Onion, Cèpes, French Laundry Green Beans and “Sauce Bordelaise”

 

BULLION-POACHED TENDERLOIN OF SNAKE RIVER FARM PRIME BEEF

“Nameko” Mushrooms, Broccolini, “Kohishikari” Rice

with Sweet Garlic and Ginger-Scented “Jus”

Modicum 2001

Golden Monkey Black Tea

 

“COBB SALAD”

Tomato “Confit”, Applewood Smoked Bacon, Hard-Boiled Quail Egg

and Haas Avocado “Puree”

 

“MONTE ENEBRO”

Slow-Baked Heirloom Beet, Fennel Bulb “Relish” and Juniper Wood-Aged

Balsamic “Vinaigrette”

 

ROYAL BLENHEIM APRICOT SORBET

Marcona Almond “Streusel” and “Gelée de Noyaux”

 

ROYAL BLENHEIM APRICOT SORBET

Marcona Almond “Streusel” and “Gelée de Noyaux”

 

VALRHONA ARAGUANI CHOCOLATE TART

Caramel Ice Cream and Butterscotch “Crunch”

Toro Albala, Pedro Ximenez, 1971

 

“MIGNARDISES”

 

 

 

 

Hunger at Home


For over 25 years, the primary focus of my professional career has been food.

In my personal life, food has played a major role, falling just behind faith, family, and friends.

I create, prepare, and sell food for a living. When I’m not working, I’m traveling, eating, and writing about traveling and eating. I eat a lot. When recognized while out of town, I’m often asked, “Aren’t you that guy who eats a lot?” Again, food.

I grew up in a modest middle class home, raised by a single working mom, though I never wanted for food. I could probably count on the fingers of one hand the times I’ve been truly hungry— possibly never.

In my life, I have been food rich. I once ate a 32-course, five-hour meal at The French Laundry, the nation’s premiere restaurant. In a few weeks, I’m going back there to participate in another culinary bacchanalia.

I realize how lucky I have been.

Millions have not been so lucky. While you’re reading this, a significant number of our nation’s seniors are debating on whether to pay the water bill or buy groceries. Over the course of a day, 12.4 million children are living at risk of hunger. Real skipping-meals, days-without-food hunger— not in some remote foreign country— here in America.

While we’re planning our next family vacation, there are millions of parents hoping to just make it through the night. They have no clue as to what they’ll feed their children for breakfast.

Of all of the 50 states, Mississippi is at the top of the list for food insecurity. Walker Satterwhite, Executive Director of the Mississippi Food Network, told me recently that last year MFN was feeding 65,000 needy Mississippians each month. Today, that number— due to the change in the economic climate— has risen almost 50% to 100,000 people.

MFN supplies 320 food pantries and soup kitchens across Mississippi with over one million pounds of food every month, but there is still a huge void. “Many Mississippi communities with larger populations have multiple non-profits, large numbers of giving churches, public transportation and friends and family who can assist the needy,” Satterwhite said. “This is not the case in many rural areas. We are seeking out churches, civic groups, and non-profits in the extreme rural areas to take advantage of our program in underserved areas. We have the expertise to assist these organizations in the process of opening these agencies.”

If you are reading this, and live in one of those smaller communities that need help in feeding its under-resourced citizens, please call Mississippi Food Network 601-353-7286.

Walker Satterwhite is one of my heroes. This state is full of heroes. Cookie and Bill Prout formed Christian Services in Hattiesburg in 1986. They prepare and serve 600 meals per day. They also prepare food for Meals on Wheels, which feeds seniors who are homebound. As if that weren’t enough, the Prouts prepare food and distribute it out of a delivery van in three underprivileged neighborhoods in town.

I never focus on how someone got to the point of needing food. That’s a problem for someone else to solve. I care that there are children in my town who are going to bed hungry every night. I know that they had nothing to do with the circumstances that put them in that situation.

My son and I visited The Edwards Street Mission in Hattiesburg a few weeks ago and the shelves had been depleted. Edwards Street is feeding 600 families every month. They need help. Today.

They all need help, today. Send food, volunteer time, send money. Just do something, and do it today.

I’ve spent 25 years in the surplus side of the food business. I’m about to spend a large portion of the next 25 in the food-deficit side— making sure that those who don’t have access to food get it. Join me, and join Walker Satterwhite and the 320 agencies supported by the Mississippi Food Network, or the local soup kitchen or mission pantry in your area, and make a difference.

Let the Riots Begin

           

I’m no Nostradamus, but I am about to make a bold prediction: Within a matter of days this country will witness a take-it-to-the-streets rebellion and massive, frenzied uprising like we have never seen.

Be warned: These riotous insurrections will occur instantly, without notice, and will quickly spread across every town and community in this country. I predict that the National Guard will have to be called out in all 50 states, Puerto Rico, the U.S. Virgin Islands, and Guam, to try and restrain the nation’s frenzied citizens. The Southern states, namely Mississippi, Alabama, Louisiana, and Georgia will be hit the hardest as this event will make the current riots in Iran look like an afternoon on the playground.

How can I be so sure of this impending crisis? Today I read a news article in the Cleveland Leader with the headline: “Chubby People Live Longer than Skinny People.” Hallelujah, amen, and pass the cinnamon rolls! Let the gluttony begin.

The Cleveland Leader stated, “People who are a little overweight at age 40 live six to seven years longer than very thin people, whose average life expectancy was shorter by some five years than that of obese people, the study found,”

"We found skinny people run the highest risk," said Shinichi Kuriyama, an associate professor at Tohoku University's Graduate School of Medicine who worked on the long-term study of middle-aged and elderly people. Ha! I knew it. The skinny people are going first.

I don’t know who this Kuriyama fellow is, but he’s obviously brilliant. He has become an instant deity in my book, a sage, a learned prophet, and a man whose true genius will be honored by fat people like me for years to come. All hail Kuriyama!

Again, be warned: As soon as people read this news story, panic is sure to engulf the continent, a culinary red alert will take the threat level to orange, or at least something similar to orange-flavored cake.

We will see food shortages and surpluses simultaneously. The shortages will begin at the nation’s donut shops. There will be mass, sugar-fueled uprisings as crazed mobs tear down donut-shop doors screaming, “I want a hot one! Where are all the hot ones?”

The candy isles in convenience stores will be ransacked as excited gangs of junk-food pillagers take to the streets vandalizing and looting chocolate and sweets. It will then spread to ice cream parlors which should run out of product within minutes. In a matter of hours, barbeque stands will be torn apart, and unprecedented scarcities of cream, cheese, and bacon will be the norm.

On a brighter note, there will be a surplus of granola across the land, which, if the president is smart, he can ship to Iran to make their mobs even angrier.

The National Guard will be forced to concentrate their efforts around the thousands of Weight Watchers clinics and dieting centers, where millions of angry fat people will storm the weight-loss offices and threaten to sit on their diet counselors until they receive instant cash-back refunds, while burning Richard Simmons in effigy

A national culinary emergency will be on our hands, and a pig-out of gargantuan proportions will ensue. Instantly, restaurants which serve nothing but Chili-Cheese Fries and chocolate shakes will replace all of the salad bars and veggie-wrap sprout bars.

Our new Supreme Leader, hereafter referred to as Lord Kuriyama, said, "We had expected thin people would show the shortest life expectancy but didn't expect the difference to be this large.”

If being fat means living longer, call me Methuselah. Ladies and gentlemen, let the eating begin.

 

Tennessee Top Ten

My wife and I dropped the kids off at summer camp in Arkansas and then spent a week eating our way through Tennessee (summer camp for adults). Here are the top ten culinary highlights from the journey.

10.) BBQ Memphis— Actually, I had planned on eating bbq in Memphis, but we arrived too late and everything was closed. However, the night before in Hot Springs, AR, we ate at a restaurant named McClard’s. The restaurant has been there for decades and the bbq is OK., but what really blew us away was a tamale dish. It is called Tamale Spread and it looks just like a big cheesy-brown blob on a plate. I wasn’t too excited about it, and ordered it for the kids. The adults laid it to waste. It had tamales, chopped beef, beans, bbq sauce, corn chips, cheese, and onions. Surprisingly tasty.

9.) Hot Water Cornbread—Watermark, Nashville— We took our friend Julia to dinner at Watermark in the Gulch neighborhood. The Hot Water Cornbread was actually a component of a BBQ Shrimp dish at this white-tablecloth restaurant. It was so good I asked for seconds on just the cornbread component, even though there was a breadbasket on the table.

8.) Lunch Salad— Blackberry Farm— The salad was served with Allan Benton’s bacon and a Chopped Egg Vinaigrette. The best salad I’ve eaten in two years.

7.) Tri-Tip Steak— The City House, Nashville. Our friend Julia took us to The City House where I ate one of the more flavorful tri-tips in recent memory.

6.) Grits Soufflé—Watermark, Nashville— Joe Shaw, the restaurant’s executive chef, studied under Frank Stitt in Birmingham. It shows. This dish was amazing.

5.) Onion Soup— Blackberry Farm— Adam Cooke is the new Executive Chef at Blackberry. John Fleer put them on the map, but when he and Blackberry parted ways, the chef from Danny Meyer’s restaurant at the Museum of Modern art in Manhattan, The Modern, took the reins. While his food was first rate, I never thought it “fit” the Blackberry mold. Cooke’s does. For this simple onion soup, he used fresh, sweet onions from the gardens on the grounds, cooked them down, and thickened the soup with bread— simple, subtle, beautiful.

4.) Sweet Potato Pancakes— The Pancake Pantry, Nashville— whenever I’m in Nashville I eat breakfast at The Pancake Pantry. This marked the first time I had eaten their Sweet Potato Pancakes served with cinnamon butter and syrup. Along with our friend, Bobby, we tore them up.

3.) Mexican Popsicles— Las Paletas, Nashville— Five years ago, two sisters opened a business which serves homemade popsicles and that’s all. The flavors are exotic, original, and each popsicle is made daily from fresh ingredients. I know this because while I was ordering, one of the sisters was unloading flats of strawberries, cases of limes, bananas, and all manner of berries to be used in the next day’s offerings. There wasn’t even a sign outside of the business and the place was slammed. I am glad there’s not a Las Paletas anywhere near my house. I’d weigh twice what I do now.

2.) Sourdough Yeast Rolls— Barbara’s Home Cooking, Franklin, TN— 

Barbara grew up just a few miles down the road from me in New Augusta, MS. I’m not sure where her Sourdough Yeast Roll recipe comes from, but no one in this part of the country has ever made anything that comes close. Again, I’m glad this food item isn’t available anywhere near my hometown.

1.) Heirloom Sharlyn Melon and Champagne Terrine with Benton’s Ham— Blackberry Farm— I had never heard of a Sharlyn melon. It’s a cross between a cantaloupe and a honeydew. Cooke drew inspiration from Thomas Keller’s Bouchon and compressed the melon in a v

acuum-sealed bag before serving it alongside champagne-mint gelee and a small, rolled-up sliver of Allan Benton’s 16-month aged domestic prosciutto. This marked the first time in my fine-dining eating career that I have ever ordered seconds on an amuse bouche.

Honorable Mention Gi Gi’s Cupcakes Nashville, Strawberry Shortcake at Barbara’s Home Cooking Franklin, TN, and everything that we ate during our stay at Blackberry Farm that wasn’t listed here— especially those items served during breakfast, lunch, and dinner.




Foie Gras with Toasted Brioche, Fig Relish and reduced Port Wine Glaze

1 lb. Foie Gras cut into 2 ounce slices
1 1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/4 tsp fresh ground black pepper
8 Slice Fresh Brioche, crusts removed and cut in half on a diagonal
1 recipe Fig Relish
1 Recipe Port Wine Glaze

Preheat oven to 450

Arrange the brioche on a baking sheet.
Season the foie gras with the salt and black pepper. Heat a large skillet over high heat and arrange the foie gras in the skillet so they do not touch. Cook 45 seconds. Carefully turn each piece over and cook for 1-2 minutes. Turn off the heat.
Place the brioche in the oven to toast.
To serve, place one piece of the brioche toast on each serving plate, top with one piece of the cooked foie gras. Top each piece of foie gras with 2 tsp of the fig relish. Rest another piece of toast atop of the foie gras. Drizzle the plate with the port wine glaze and serve immediately.

Yield: 8 servings.


Fig Relish

1 Tbl butter
2 Tbl minced shallots
1 1/2 cups whole fig preserves, small dice
2 Tbl brown sugar
2 Tbl sherry vinegar
2 Tbl minced celery
2 Tbl small diced red peppers
1/2 tsp fresh thyme leave, chopped
salt and pepper to taste

Melt the butter over low heat in a small sauce pot. Cook the shallots for 3 minutes. Add in the diced figs and brown sugar, and cook 5-6 minutes, stirring often to prevent sticking and burning. Add in the sherry vinegar, celery and red bell peppers and lower the heat. Cook for 10 minutes, stirring often. Add thyme, salt and black pepper and remove from heat. Best if made a day or two in advance. When ready to use, warm it slowly in a small sauté pan over a low heat.

Yield:
1 1/2 cups

Port Wine Glaze

1 cup chicken stock
1 Tbl brown sugar
1 cup port wine
2 tsp balsamic vinegar

Place all ingredients in a small sauce pot. Simmer and reduce until mixture forms a thick syrup.
Yield: One quarter cup

The Piney Woods Challenge

 

Yesterday I drove a carload of kids— under the age of 12— on a seven-hour trek that ended in Arkansas’ Ouachita National Forrest so they could attend summer camp.

Early on, the van was relatively calm. Most surprising, the van was quiet. I think it’s because my wife packed the snacks. The kids were munching on pita chips, cheese crackers, and bottled water. I stopped for gas in some small town an hour from our destination and the kids went inside by themselves to get their own snacks— ice cream and candy bars.

I learned two things: 1.) Even though they might claim to have the capacity, kids have NO clue how to take care of themselves. 2.) Left on their own, they would die from sugar poisoning and daily overdoses of chocolate and corn chips.

The van instantly became raucous. The sugar fueled their madness as arguments began to break out between warring factions of the middle seat versus the way-back seat. Things were being thrown, toys were getting broken, and strange odors began to materialize. The tranquility that had enveloped the van moments earlier was a distant memory.

I thought back to my youth. Water didn’t come in bottles and pita was never chipped. I mainlined sugar through any source available— soft drinks, punch, Kool-Aid, my grandfather used to make glasses of homemade lemonade, which contained probably a half of a cup of sugar.

When snack time came at the park, I bought candy bars (chocolate and sugar), cotton candy (spun sugar), Orange soda (liquid sugar), hard candy (hard sugar), and those large plastic straws filled with — you guessed it— colored sugar.

I rarely drank iced tea in my youth, but when I did, it was loaded with sugar. Sweet and Low, Equal, and Splenda were nowhere to be found. My mom had some little saccharin pills in a bottle, but I used those as ammunition for my slingshot— not because I was creative when it came to ammo— but because I was so hyped up on sugar at the time, my judgment was clouded and it seemed like a good idea. Artificial sugar? Ha! We used it to kill birds.

My son eats healthy, grown-up cereals like Special K and Kashi. I ate sugary cereal when I was a kid, and if the Frosted Flakes didn’t taste sweet enough, I poured on more sugar until there was a layer of thick sugary sludge in the bottom of the bowl (which always made the second bowl of cereal even tastier).

I was the poster child for hyperactivity. I spent most of my days babbling on, twitching involuntarily, and bouncing off of the walls in the classroom. “Robert, finish your Cap’n Crunch, chocolate milk, and sweet rolls. You’re going to be late for school.”

 “Mrs. St. John, Robert won’t sit still in class.”

“He’ll be fine, just give him a few Twinkies and some chocolate milk. That’ll settle him down.”

I stayed in trouble. I ate sugary stuff all day long, never skipped dessert, and smuggled cookies into my bedroom late at night. With the money I made mowing lawns, I bought whole cases of Sour Apple Jolly Rancher candies.

My youth was filled with sugar-fueled moments that didn’t turn out well. Most notably there was The Piney Woods Challenge. I remember that event like it was yesterday (probably because I had a carload of screaming kids yesterday). In my mind’s eye, I can see my brother and mother in the front seat of the old yellow Plymouth. I was in the backseat— which smelled like our wet Cocker Spaniel— eating miniature Milky Way bars and drinking Mountain Dew. I was jabbering a mile a minute and my mother, who was at the end of her rope, issued a challenge: “If you can be totally still and completely quiet until we get to Jackson, I will give you five dollars.”

We were passing the Piney Woods School at the time. It would be 25 minutes, at the most. Twenty-five minutes of silence for five dollars. I said, “O.K. you’ve got a deal,” and then took another swig of my soft drink. Five dollars was a ton of money in 1969.

I sat on my hands and looked out the window with my lips drawn in and my mouth closed tightly. I concentrated on the five dollars while I twitched involuntarily. The pressure mounted as the car drove on. The pounding in my head grew louder. Be still. I wanted to tell someone about it. Be quiet. I wiggled and squirmed. Five dollars. Five dollars. Finally, I could take it no longer. Somewhere around Star, Mississippi, I screamed, “Where are my Jolly Ranchers? And began jumping up and down on the back seat.

I didn’t make it five miles. I did my best, but I failed. My brother, whom I think had been pulling for me said, “That’s alright Robert. Cheer up, you’ll get it next time. Here, have my Snickers and Orange Crush.”

 

Praline Bacon

For the last few months I have been hearing about a dish called “Praline Bacon.”

It was popping up in conversations, in emails, on websites, and inmagazines. I had never heard of Praline Bacon, so I took these randomoccurrences as a Celestine suggestion, and made a decision to lookinto this strange new food product.

Of course, it didn’t take to much inner dialogue to convince myself,as “Bacon” is in the title. Had I kept hearing about PralineCauliflower or Candied Brussels Sprouts, I might have just pushed therandomly occurring hints aside.

After researching Praline Bacon on the Internet, a restaurant in NewOrleans named Elizabeth’s appeared to be ground zero.

Around the time I was looking into this strange foodstuff, my friend,Bill Kirby invited me to breakfast. He, too, had been hearing aboutPraline Bacon and wanted to check it out.
I am blessed to have a lot of friends with diverse interests andtastes. Kirby, is a kindred spirit of the culinary variety. He, likeme, has no problem driving five hours with the sole purpose of eatinga perfectly fried piece of chicken, only to turn around and drive fivehours home.
Our culinary field trip was set.

Elizabeth’s is located at the foot of a levee in the Bywater sectionof the Upper Ninth Ward in a house that looks and feels each of it’s100 years. We arrived around 8:30 a.m. and were only one of threetables.

Kirby has a lot of rules about diners and breakfast joints. He oncetold me, “If you get a mean waitress, that usually means it’s going tobe a good meal.” Sitting in Elizabeth’s he said, “You see all of themismatched chairs and tablecloths? That’s a good sign. This is goingto be good.” Coming from a man who woke up at 6 a.m. and rode twohours to eat bacon, I’ll take him at his word.
Our waitress wasn’t mean, but efficient. Kirby ordered the EggsFlorentine (poached eggs, creamed spinach, fried oysters, andhollandaise). I ordered Eggs Elizabeth (poached eggs, ham,hollandaise, and toasted French bread croutons). I told Kirby that, “Ihave always believed that if a dish is good enough to use either theowner’s name or the restaurant’s name, it’s a safe bet.” As I spoke, Ifelt he was mentally filing my assumption away to add to hismismatched-chairs and mean-waitress theories.

I ordered an entrée of Strawberry and Cream Cheese French Toast forthe table and we each ordered a rasher of Praline Bacon. “Do you wantthe bacon first?” the waitress asked. It was a strange question. I hadnever ordered an appetizer course for breakfast, but the query caughtme off guard, and I figured that the bacon must be so good that peoplecan’t wait to eat it, or they have to eat it immediately. Or maybe therestaurant wants people to order it first because they know they’llorder more later, beefing up the check average. Either way, all of thesigns pointed towards good bacon, so I said, “Yes.”

Through research, and a little help from our waitress, I learned thatPraline Bacon is everyday, run-of-the-mill bacon that is partiallycooked on a sheet pan in the oven, and a sprinkling of brown sugar andfinely chopped pecans is added halfway through the cooking process.
The Praline Bacon arrived to the table a few minutes later. I begantaking photos to upload to my Facebook page and blog. The bacon lookednice— a little greasy— with a crust that came from a light dusting ofbrown sugar. I took a few photos, blotted a few grease spots, took afew more photos, and then looked over to Kirby. His bacon was gone—all four pieces.

“Where’s your bacon?” I asked.

He smiled and said, “I ate it.”

Indeed he had— four pieces in 90 seconds— an average of 22.5 seconds per slice.
I took a bite. It was good, but I’m not sure if it lived up to itspre-billing. The brown-sugar crusted bacon was certainly much betterwhen paired with the slightly sweet Strawberry French Toast than thesavory egg dishes.

Sharing breakfast with a friend is one of life’s greatest pleasures. Aculinary field trip with a fellow food lover makes it even better.

So was Praline Bacon worth the trip? It depends on whom you ask. Icould take it or leave it. Kirby might be able to add anothersupposition to his stable of mismatched chairs and mean waitresstheories: If bacon is good, it can only become better with theaddition of brown sugar and pecans.

Stuffed French Toast
Filling:
2 lbs Cream cheese, softened
1 Tbl Orange zest
3 /4 cup Sugar
2 tsp Vanilla
1 1 /2 tsp Cinnamon

Batter:
2 cups Half and half
2 cups Milk
8 Eggs + 4 yolks
1 tsp Vanilla
3 /4 cup Sugar
1 tsp Cinnamon
1 /2 tsp. Nutmeg
French Bread, cut into 8 five-inch-long pieces

To make the filling, mix all ingredients together using an electricmixer until light and fluffy. Hollow out a one-inch tunnel through thecenter of the French bread pieces. Fill a pastry bag with the creamcheese filling and stuff the French bread.

Make the batter mixture and pour it over the stuffed French toast. Letsoak for two hours or longer. Rotate the bread often so that all sidesbecome equally saturated.
Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

Place French toast on a well-buttered sheet pan and place in oven.Bake 12 minutes. Remove and turn bread over. Return to oven and bakeeight more minutes. Serve with warm maple syrup and fresh slicedstrawberries. Yield: eight servings

Is That A Piece of Cornbread In Your Pocket…

 

My grandmother made the world’s best biscuits.

She passed away 20 years ago and I have been trying to replicate them ever since. Her biscuits were small, light, and slightly salty with a hint buttermilk. She never followed a recipe, yet they were consistent every time she made them. I could eat a dozen over the course of a Sunday afternoon meal.

A few years ago I gave a speech in Natchez. Afterwards my hosts invited me to lunch at the Carriage House Restaurant. At the Carriage House, they served my grandmother’s biscuits, or at least a recipe that tasted exactly like my grandmother’s biscuits. They were great. I ate a dozen of them.

Yesterday, I was invited to be a part of an after-church luncheon to celebrate a friend’s book release. The meal was of the standard Deep-South-after-church-Sunday-meal variety— roast beef, gravy, corn, beans, fried okra, and iced tea— right up my alley, and all good.

There was a basket of cornbread— sticks and muffins— at the end of the sideboard. I opted for a stick. I took one bite and was instantly transformed to my grandmother’s table. My grandmother served biscuits with formal Sunday lunches, but cornbread with casual Saturday afternoon meals. This cornbread tasted just like my grandmothers.

The cornbread at my friend Chalie’s (note to editors: the name is “Chalie”—no “r”) house was crisp on the bottom from baking in hot cast-iron and dusted with a light sprinkling of corn meal. It wasn’t sweet, crumbly, cakelike, or dense. It was everything I require from a stick of cornbread. Beautiful.

I threw manners out the window and placed a second and third piece of cornbread on my plate. I ate a few pieces of okra and pushed some roast beef around and then grabbed my fourth piece of cornbread.

The table conversation was rapid-fire and graciously raucous. I spoke a little, but held back because my mother always told me not to speak with my mouth full, and at this meal my mouth always seemed to be crammed with cornbread.

Every once in a while I would add to the conversation with something like, “Did someone steal my cornbread?” Or “I could have sworn that there were two pieces of cornbread on my plate just a few seconds ago.”

There was no subtle way of gorging myself with cornbread because the basket was located across the room and I had to get up and walk over to it every time I wanted another piece. Had the basket been on the table, I could have placed it in front of me and then pointed to an imaginary something out the window. “Is that a woolly mammoth in the front yard?  And while everyone’s heads were turned I could have grabbed a few pieces of cornbread and hidden them in my lap.

I was debating on slipping a few cornbread sticks in my pocket and taking them into the bathroom to eat in private when I noticed that all of the sticks were gone— only muffins remained. But I wasn’t finished. I wanted more. I was desperate, but no so desperate as to walk around the house with cornbread muffins poking out of my front pockets— sticks, maybe… muffins— no way.

The lunch was being served during a thunderstorm. By the time the electricity went out, I was on my seventh piece of cornbread. In the dark, I snuck over to the sideboard to nab number eight. I don’t think anyone saw me. They might have heard some contented moaning and smacking coming from my end of the table, but there was no visual evidence of my gluttony.

“No dessert, thank you. Is there any more cornbread?"

Just for one brief moment I was back at my grandmother’s table, for that I will be forever grateful.

 

Summer Succotash

 

3 Tbl                         Bacon grease (or canola oil)

2 cups                         Squash, medium dice

1 /4 cup             Onion, small chopped

1                         Red bell pepper, medium dice

1 cup                         Fresh butter beans, cooked

1cup                         Silverqueen Corn kernels, freshly scraped

1 /2 cup             Chicken broth

2 tsp                         Creole Seasoning

1 tsp                         Thyme

1 /2 tsp                        Rosemary

1 Tbl                        Butter

Salt and pepper to taste

Heat bacon grease over medium high heat. Add squash, onion and bell pepper. Cook until softened. Add beans and corn. Continue cooking for two minutes. Add chicken broth. 

James Beard Foundation Awards

 

A couple of weeks ago The James Beard Foundation Awards ceremony was held in 

New York to honor the nation’s best chefs, restaurants, cookbook authors, and food journalists.

The James Beard Foundation Awards are the Academy Awards of the food business and my home state of Mississippi was

 represented well.

John Currence, chef/owner of City Grocery in Oxford, Miss took home the Beard award for Best Chef: South. Martha Foose, the Mississippi Delta chef and cookbook author, won a James Beard Book Award in the category “American Cooking” for her cook

book, “Screen Doors and Sweet Tea: Recipes and Tales from a Southern Cook.” John T. Edge, also of Oxford, a director of the Southern Foodways Alliance, won recognition as Who’s Who of Food & Beverage in America.

That’s a big night for a small state. It’s an even bigger night for a small town. Currence and Edge have both been living in Oxford for a couple of decades. Foose spent her early days in the restaurant business working in Oxford— first for Currence, then at The Bottletree Bakery

For years, I have considered Currence the best chef in Mississippi. I still do. His creativity, New Orleans roots, and sound culinary fundamentals have kept him at the top of the food chain in this state. If I were in charge of an awards ceremony, I’d give him another medal just for bringing breakfast back to the forefront of the Mississippi culinary scene by opening Big Bad Breakfast in Oxford.

Currence, who was in jeopardy of becoming the Susan Lucci of the Beard Awards, finally got his due— though in my opinion, long overdue due— and was recognized as the best chef in the South, which I am sure is the first of many to come.

I purchase and receive hundreds of cookbooks every year. Martha Foose wrote my favorite cookbook of 2008. Last November, I recommended Foose’s cookbook in this column with these words, “My publisher says that if someone cooks six recipes out of a cookbook, it is a major success. The first time I thumbed through Foose's book, there were several dozen recipes I wanted to prepare.”

“Foose got her start at the La Brea Bakery in Los Angeles, and moved on to several bakeries in Mississippi. However, where Foose shines in this, her first publishing effort, is on the savory courses that take place well before dessert— Inside Out Sweet Potatoes, Lady Pea Salad, and Chicken Thighs and Dumplings to list just a few.”

From the banana pudding she cooked for Oprah (in individual Mason jars) to Catfish in a Paper Sack, “Screen Doors and Sweet Tea” is filled with recipes new, true, and Southern.

John T. Edge, one of the founders of The Southern Foodways Alliance, has done more than most to draw attention to Southern cuisine and culture. I am serious about food, but I don’t take food too seriously. John T. takes food seriously. Actually, I don’t know anyone who is as serious about food as John T. Edge. With an academician’s focus, he has written a series of book that focused on classic American foods— “Donuts An American Passion,” “Hamburgers and Fries An American Story,” and other books focusing on fried chicken and apple pie. Anyone who is as serious about food as John T. certainly deserves to be listed among the nation’s Who’s Who.

I don’t have the exact statistics, but I would venture to guess that this year Mississippi received more James Beard Awards per capita than any other state. It’s time more people knew what we’ve known for a long time: This is a great state for good food. Currence, Foose, and Edge, have helped spread the word through their hard work, devotion, and enthusiasm. For this, and everything else they have done, they should be recognized, congratulated, and honored often.

Amaretto-Brulee Breakfast Bread

1 /3 cup             Butter, melted

3 /4 cup             Brown sugar

2 Tbl                  Honey

2 Tbl                Pecans, chopped (optional)

2 Tbl                Almonds, slivered and blanched (optional)

8                      Slices of sourdough bread, cut into 1-inch thick rounds

4                       Eggs

2 /3 cup           Milk

1 /4 cup            Heavy cream

1 /8 tsp              Cinnamon

1 /8 tsp               Nutmeg

1 Tbl                  Vanilla

1 Tbl                   Amaretto

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

In a cast iron skillet, combine butter, brown sugar and honey over medium-high heat. Cook mixture, stirring constantly until bubbly and sugar has dissolved. Add nuts. Pour Brulee into the bottom of a round, two-quart Pyrex baking dish. Allow Brulee to cool slightly then top with the sourdough bread croutons. There should be enough bread to cover the bottom of the dish. If your sourdough loaf is small, add more bread slices so that the entire dish is covered in one layer of bread.

In a large mixing bowl whisk eggs, milk, heavy cream, cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla and Amaretto. Pour mixture evenly over the bread. Using the tips of your fingers, press bread down gently to force custard into croutons without breaking. Cover dish with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.

Allow custard to come to room temperature one hour before baking. Bake uncovered until bread is puffed and edges of croutons are golden brown, (approximately 40 minutes). Place a plate on top of the baking dish. Using dish towels or pot holders, invert dish onto a plate. Top with powdered sugar. Yield: four to six servings

 

I Am Not On Al Gore’s Christmas Card List

 

I stirred up a lot of trouble when I was a kid.

Possessing an overactive imagination and a hyperactive disposition, I was responsible for a fair share of the havoc created in and around my school and neighborhood.

Most of the parents in the neighborhood had, on at least one occasion, found the need to admonish my actions and activities. Whether I was running over Dr. Phillips newly planted shrubbery on my bicycle, or soaking Dr. Ross’ important medical papers by giving an impromptu demonstration of his new underground sprinkler system, I was responsible for countless acts of unintentional destruction and mayhem through the years.

Most of the incidences were unintended and harmless. I never flushed a M-80 down a toilet or ran over someone in my car. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I have ever inflicted deliberate physical harm on anyone.

I have made it 47 years without destroying too much around my hometown. But I have just recently learned that I may be responsible for the end of the world as we know it.

The end of the world— that’s a heavy burden to bear. Maybe my principal, Mr. Curry, was right when he told my ninth-grade class that I was “Nothing but trouble” and “…would never amount to anything.”

Growing up, I always thought that the end of the world would come from a nuclear holocaust instigated by the Russians. They’d bomb us, we’d bomb them, and both countries would continue to bomb each other while we squatted in school corridors with our heads tucked between our knees.

Today I learned that the end of the world wouldn’t come from mutual nuclear annihilation, or terrorist attacks, or any of the fun stuff we always imagined. No. The world will cease to exist because I am fat.

I just read a New York Times story that quoted a British scientist who believes that fat people are causing global warming. I can’t cite the science behind the fat-people-are-going-to-kill-us-all theory, but you can Google it and take the time to read the study if you like.

A man named Dr. Phil Edwards in London makes his case by stating that fat people eat more (really?) and are more likely to drive instead of walk creating more CO2 gas emissions and causing the earth to warm (note to reader: I deserve columnist credit here for skipping the obvious fat-people-and-gas-emissions joke).

So, if fat people are causing global warming, and if my home state of Mississippi is the perennial statistical leader as the most obese state in the country, that means that I am writing this column from Armageddon headquarters. No wonder I’m not on Al Gore’s Christmas card list.

Remember, Mississippi, the next time you ask for seconds on pork chops, a little more of the polar ice cap will melt away. Eat blackberry cobbler for dessert and watch sea levels rise. Biscuits for breakfast— deforestation in the Amazon.

We Mississippians are used to 98 percent humidity on 100-degree afternoons. We laugh in the face of global warming. Of course, we are laughing with our mouths full.

Mr. Curry always said, “You boys better stop eating all of those hamburgers and pizza. It’ll kill you.” Who knew?

I survived childhood. My neighborhood is still standing. Today, Dr. Phillips shrubs— notwithstanding recent holes in the ozone layer— are over 18 feet tall. Dr. Ross’ sprinkler system is in perfect working condition and his grass is greener than ever. It seems that I have made it through all of the challenges of growing up, only to learn that I have been eating us into oblivion.

Pass the potatoes, please.

Crescent City Grill Creole Cheese Fritters

3/4 cup             Parmesan cheese, grated

3                         Eggs                       

1/4 cup             Parsley, chopped fine

1/4 cup             Green onions, medium dice

1/4 cup             Horseradish

1/4 cup             Sour cream

1 1/2 Tbl           Garlic, minced

1 Tbl                   Creole Seasoning

1/4 tsp                Red pepper, crushed

1 cup                    Flour

1/2 Tbl             Hot Sauce

10 oz                         pepper jack cheese, grated

6 oz                         mozzarella cheese, grated

6 oz                         cheddar cheese, grated

 

            Place Parmesan cheese, eggs, parsley, onions, horseradish, sour cream, garlic, Creole Seasoning, red pepper, flour, and hot sauce in an electric mixer and combine at medium speed. Add the 3 cheeses and continue mixing until well blended. Do not over mix.

            Heat oil to 350 in a cast iron skillet. Drop golf ball-size spoonfuls of cheese fritter mixture into hot oil, making sure not to cook too many at once.

            Serve with Comeback Sauce for dipping. Yield: 24–30

 

Crescent City Grill Comeback Sauce

 

1 cup                         mayonnaise

1/ 2 cup             ketchup

1/ 2 cup             chili sauce

1/ 2 cup             cottonseed oil

1/ 2 cup             yellow onion, grated

3 Tbl                         lemon juice

2 Tbl                         garlic, minced

1 Tbl                        paprika

1 Tbl                         water

1 Tbl                         Worcestershire

1 tsp                         pepper

1/ 2 tsp                        dry mustard

1 tsp                         salt

 

Combine all ingredients in a food processor and mix well.

Yield: 3 1/2 cups

 

 

Pizza

 

 

Yesterday I ordered a pizza online.

 

I didn’t get in my car, I didn’t pick up the phone, I never even spoke to anyone. I just logged onto my laptop and 30 minutes later, I was shaking crushed red pepper flakes over my thin-crust pepperoni.

 

The ordering of the pizza and the ingredient selection was easy. Once I made my choices, the website told me that my pizza would be ready in 20-24 minutes.

 

Next, the website— in real time— let me know that someone named Sarah was prepping my pizza. A few minutes later, the website told me that, at 4:50 p.m., Sarah had placed my pizza in the oven. The site then let me know that, at 4:57 p.m., they had placed my pizza in some type of space-aged insulated bag. Within seconds, I was notified that, at 5:00 p.m., my “Delivery Expert,” Robert, left the store with the pizza. At 5:13 Robert the Delivery Expert rang my doorbell. At 5:19 the website posted the comment, “We hope you enjoyed your meal.” I did.

 

Ordering food over the Internet and having it delivered has been going on for a couple of years, but yesterday was the first time I have taken advantage of the process. When I first heard of Internet pizza ordering, my initial reaction was one of amusement, then disdain, then indifference. Yesterday, on a fluke, I gave it a shot, thinking— if they screw it up, at least I’ll be able to rip on them, throw in some jokes about the mindless, robotic process, and get a column out of it.

 

It’s true, I got a column out of it. But the exercise of ordering a pizza online was a pleasant one. There were no glitches in the process, it was easy, and I never left the comfort of my chair (except to meet the Delivery Expert, when he rang the doorbell).

 

Best of all, I was never placed on hold, I didn’t have to listen to an endless loop of annoying advertising promotions, I never had to restate my order, and all human-error was eliminated from the process. Hospitality has taken a nose-dive in recent years. Service is non-existent in many industries. That’s not a good thing, especially for those of us in the hospitality and service industry. This process was quick, efficient, pleasant, and error-free.

 

I’ve heard all of the arguments about taking the human factor out of our everyday lives, and the dangerous path we tread in doing so. But I’ll bet the ones who are prophesying about the doom and gloom of an automated society have never used the drive-through window at a fast-food place or dealt with an unconcerned teenage order-taker behind the counter at a burger joint.

 

Sean Connery might have been the coolest of the James Bonds, but all of his gadgets are old school these days. Today we have instant information at our fingertips and are in constant contact with our friends, family, and pizza joints.

 

When I opened my first restaurant, I was working 90-hour weeks with no spare time. I ate most of my meals in the restaurant, though when I got off late at night, my 28-inch waist and I ordered pizza. The people at the pizza place knew my name. They would say, “Do you want the usual, Robert?” It was embarrassing.

 

Today, my 38-inch waist and I don’t order pizza very often— mainly because pizza was a large factor in my expansion from a 28 to a 38-inch waist. Though if I did, the only person who would have known what a no-social-life-having loser I was would be the Delivery Expert (and I’m a great tipper, and I don’t think he’d care one bit if I ordered pizza five nights a week).

 

           

Crawfish Pizza

1 tablespoon olive oil

1/2 cup green bell peppers, chopped fine

1/2 cup yellow onion, chopped fine

1/2 cup green onion, chopped fine

1 tablespoon garlic, minced

2 teaspoons Creole Seasoning

3/4 pound crawfish tail meat, cooked and in whole pieces

6 Pizza Crusts (recipe follows)

1 1/2 cup Basil Tapenade (recipe follows)

1 1/2 cup mozzarella cheese, shredded

1 cup pepper jack cheese, shredded

1/2 cup Parmesan cheese, freshly grated

 

In a large skillet, heat olive oil over medium heat. Sauté peppers, onion, and garlic until slightly tender. Add Creole Seasoning and crawfish. Remove from heat and let cool slightly (may be prepared a day in advance). Preheat oven to 450. Arrange pizza crusts on a baking sheet. Spread the basil tapenade evenly on top of each pizza shell. Distribute the crawfish mixture over the tapenade and top with the mozzarella cheese. Top with pepper jack cheese and Parmesan. Bake for 12–14 minutes, until crust is golden brown and all cheese has melted. Remove from the oven and let rest for 3–4 minutes before cutting.

Yield: 6 pizzas

 

 

 

Basil Tapenade

1 cup black olives

1 1/2 ounces anchovies, drained and patted dry

1 teaspoon Dijon mustard

2 tablespoons capers

2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice

2 tablespoons brandy

3 tablespoons olive oil

1/2 teaspoon black pepper

1 cup Pesto

1/2 of 10-ounce can Rotel tomatoes, drained

Process the first 6 ingredients in a food processor until the mixture begins to get smooth. Slowly add olive oil and garlic. Add pesto and tomatoes, and pulse until all ingredients are incorporated into a smooth, spreadable sauce. May be made and stored in refrigerator for up to 1 week.

Yield: 3 cups

 

 

Pizza Crusts

2 packages active dry yeast

1 teaspoon sugar

2 teaspoons honey

1 1/2 cups warm water

5 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon salt

1/4 cup olive oil + olive oil for brushing the pizza dough

 

Dissolve yeast, sugar, and honey in warm water.

            Using a mixer with a dough hook attachment, place flour and salt in bowl and mix thoroughly. On low speed, slowly drizzle in oil and continue to mix until evenly distributed. Next, add dissolved yeast. Add remaining cup of water. Once the dough begins to come together, continue kneading it on low speed for 5 minutes. Transfer the dough onto a floured surface and work it by hand for 3–4 more minutes. The dough should now be smooth and slightly firm and dry. Place the dough in a large bowl, cover it with a damp towel, and place it in a warm place to rise for 1/2 hour.

            Divide the dough into 6 6-ounce sections. On a dry surface, work each individual ball by rotating it in a circular motion, continually tucking the sides down and under. Form dough into a smooth ball with no air pockets. Place the balls on slightly oiled baking sheet and cover for 30 minutes. This may be done 1–2 days in advance. Dough balls can be covered tightly with plastic and kept in refrigerator.

            Preheat oven to 525_ and insert pizza stone. If you do not have a pizza stone, a heavy duty baking sheet will do. To stretch the dough, sprinkle a smooth surface with flour or cornmeal and flatten the dough to about 2 inches thick. Then begin gently pulling the sides and rotating the dough in a circular motion, slowly stretching it. You should be able to stretch the dough to a 7-inch diameter. Lightly brush with oil and place dough on pizza stone. Bake for 8–9 minutes, or until golden brown. Remove and cool. The crusts are now ready to use for any recipe. Cooked pizza crust may be frozen. Pizza dough can also be cooked on a well-oiled grill.

Yield: 6 7-inch crusts

Salads


The weather is warming and salad sales in the restaurant are booming.

I like salads, but I am not an entrée-salad eater. I like a salad as a small course or as a component or accompaniment to a main course.

When I am entertaining friends at home, I rarely serve a salad. Sometimes at lunch, I might throw together something quick and uncomplicated, but mostly I opt for soup in lieu of salad.

My grandmother always served a salad when she hosted a formal meal, though her salads were not of the tossed variety. She never served a bean salad or a pasta salad. She occasionally served a fruit salad. Mostly what she served were little-old-lady-congealed salads.

I loved my grandmother more than I have column inches to describe, but I hate congealed salads.

Congealed salads are evil. They are the greatest trick ever played on children. They looked like Jell-O, they shook like Jell-O, but they tasted like V-8 juice. She would even put a dollop of mayonnaise on top, which, of course, looked like some type of sweet whipped cream, shook like some type of whipped cream, but tasted like Miracle Whip.

My grandmother, may she rest in peace, was the Queen of the congealed salad. She had hundreds of small metal molds in dozens of shapes and designs— sea shells for congealed salads made with clam juice and V-8 juice, tiny wreath molds for a green jiggly concoction with vegetables in it, and small, scalloped dome-shaped molds for congealed fruit salads that didn’t taste like fruit but still had a dollop of mayonnaise on the top.

I love shrimp salad. My grandmother made the world’s best chicken salad. We serve a salad named Sensation Salad at the restaurants that I could eat to accompany most meals. What do those salads have in common? None of them use Jell-O. None of them try to deceive little kids into thinking that they are dessert when they are actually cloudy, bitter, and vegetable-laden tomato juice.

When one eats a shrimp salad, one knows he is eating a shrimp before he even takes the first bite. The same goes for chicken salad and tuna salad. That is what I require from my salads— honesty.

While we’re on the topic of salads that I hate, add that nasty carrot-and-raisin salad to the list, and also that salad that is made with English peas, sour cream, and green onions. Ambrosia? No sir.

I like fruit salad as long as there’s no grapefruit in the general vicinity. There is a comedian— I have forgotten his name— who does a hilarious 10-minute bit on why grapefruit is bad and why it destroys a fruit salad. I am in full agreement.

The best salad I have ever eaten was at the Gotham Bar and Grill in New York. I order it (or its current incarnation) every time I go to the city. It is a simple creation of frisee lettuce, bacon lardons, roasted shiitake mushrooms, goat cheese, tossed in a light dressing made from extra-virgin olive oil, red wine vinegar, Dijon mustard, and shallots. Beautiful.

It’s amazing how something so simple can taste so complex when left in the hands of one of that city’s best chefs— Alfred Portale. Then again, it’s startling how something so fun looking— the congealed salad— can taste so awful, even in the hands of a sweet, well-meaning and gracious Southern lady.




Frisée Salad with Smoked Bacon, Shiitakes, and Aged Goat Cheese

16 large shiitake mushrooms, stems removed
2/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
Coarse salt
Freshly ground black pepper
6 ounces slab bacon, cut into lardons (1/4-inch strips)
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons red-wine vinegar
6 cups frisée lettuce, curly endive, or Belgian endive leaves
4 ounces aged goat cheese
2 tablespoons finely minced shallots

Preheat the oven to 425°F.

Arrange the shiitakes on a roasting pan. Drizzle with 2 to 3 tablespoons of the oil, and season with salt and pepper. Roast in the oven for 8 to 10 minutes, until the mushrooms are soft, fragrant, and lightly browned. When they are cool enough to handle, cut them into large pieces. Transfer them to a bowl and set aside.

Warm 1 teaspoon of the oil in a sauté pan set over medium heat. Add the bacon and sauté, stirring occasionally, until crisp, about 8 minutes. Remove it with a slotted spoon and set it on a paper-towel-lined plate to drain. Reserve 2 tablespoons of bacon fat and keep it warm.

In a bowl, mix together the mustard and vinegar, and season with salt and pepper. Whisk in the remaining olive oil and reserved bacon fat. Taste and adjust the seasoning, adding a little more vinegar if the dressing seems oily.

Dress the mushrooms with about 1 tablespoon of the dressing and set aside. Put the lettuce in a salad bowl, add the mushrooms and shallots, and dress them lightly with the remaining vinaigrette. Grate half of the aged cheese (or crumble if using fresh) into the bowl, toss to combine, and season with salt and pepper. Scatter the bacon over the salad, grate (or crumble) the remaining cheese over the top, and serve family-style from a bowl or divide among 4 salad plates.

You can go a more traditional route and use blue cheese, ideally Roquefort, instead of goat. Try sherry vinegar in place of the red-wine vinegar. Serves 4

FLAVOR BUILDING— A teaspoon of freshly chopped tarragon stirred into the dressing will complement all of the flavors here. Or, whisk in a tablespoon of honey into the dressing along with the mustard to subtly sweeten it.

From Simple Pleasures: Home Cooking From the Gotham Bar and Grill’s Acclaimed Chef by Alfred Portale (William Morrow 2004)

Dinner Party Conversation


WATERCOLOR, FL— The older I become the more I appreciate substantive dinner party conversation.

I am on the second leg of a Spring Break sandwich that started in the rapidly melting Spring snow of Colorado and has ended on the sugar white sands of the Florida Panhandle.

I am here with my family on a dual mission: First, to take the obligatory family break from school and schedule, and second, to support my friend and artist, Bill, whose work is now hanging in the Ogden Museum’s new satellite gallery in Watercolor, Fla (a great space, by the way, and a must visit for anyone in the area).

After Bill’s Ogden opening, our friend Julia invited a small group to her house. My kids weren’t able to attend, so I represented the home team at the dinner.

The conversation during and after the meal was rapid-fire with several people talking at once. All manner of great ideas and opinions were thrown out, discussed, disproved, and argued. We laughed too loud and stayed too long. I soaked it all in and enjoyed one of the more memorable dinners I have attended in a long while.

The food was as enjoyable as the conversation. Julia, an excellent cook and veteran hostess, served several great items, but the most notable and memorable, was a shrimp and pea salad. Digging back into her Mississippi Delta roots, she didn’t opt for chick peas or a more exotic legume, but instead used newly shelled, fresh-from-the-market, Pinkeye Purple-Hull peas. It was fantastic.

She tossed large, boiled shrimp and the peas with some sherry vinegar, extra-virgin olive oil, salt, pepper, basil, and arugula. Though she said that she would have used collard greens had she had any in her refrigerator.

The next night we hosted a group at our rental house. Many of the faces were the same, but the conversation was once again thought provoking and stimulating. Not too long ago I wouldn’t have been able to imagine that sitting around a table, doing nothing more than discussing ideas with friends, would be so enjoyable. I used to need an event or occasion— an external stimulus— to “have a good time.” Maybe I’m finally growing up. Maybe it’s that I’ve lost my ability to endure blather and gossip.

My children were in attendance this evening and helped my friend David make a pasta dish he had been promising to prepare for the last four years.

David, a retired architect, but full-time gourmet and bon vivant, used angel hair pasta and tossed it in a simple sauce made from extra virgin olive oil, freshly chopped garlic, crushed red pepper and anchovies. Simple, beautiful, delicious. The garlic is infused into the olive oil and the anchovies dissolve once they hit the sauté pan. My children, who might shun the diminutive fish on a pizza, cleaned their plates.

The pasta-plate cleaning could have been due to their roles as Sous chefs, but more than likely was due to the fact that the pasta tasted so good. The four-year wait for David’s angle hair pasta was worth it and served at the right moment.

Someone once said that a good dinner party needed a slight element of danger. I’m not sure how much “danger” was involved in either of these back-to-back dinners, but the older I become, the more I treasure my friendships and meaningful the exchange of ideas that occurs when we get together.



Angel Hair Pasta Trigiani

1/3 cup Extra Virgin Olive Oil
3 Tbl Fresh Garlic, finely minced
1 1/2 tsp Crushed Red Pepper Flakes
3 oz. Flat Anchovy filets, drained but not rinsed
1 lb Angel Hair Pasta


Start with a cold 12-inch sautee pan. Add oil, garlic, and crushed red pepper and cook over low heat 4-5 minutes, to allow the garlic and pepper to infuse the oil. Do not brown or burn the garlic (if you do, start over). Add the anchovy filets and gently stir until completely dissolved (appx 2-3 min). Sauce is finished at this point and can be prepared one hour ahead of time, to be completed just before the meal is served.

Cook pasta in briskly boiling, salted water to al dente. Drain and add to simmering sauce allowing a little of the starchy pasta water (appx ¼ cup) to be added to the sauce. Gently toss until pasta is completely coated and serve in heated bowls. Drizzle with a little extra virgin olive oil.

Variations: Shrimp or oysters can be added to the sauce, or a small amount of freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano can be added at the end (but take it easy on the cheese as the finished product can become too salty).

Quiche Muffins


ASPEN— The question of the day is: How far will a man travel for a Quiche Muffin from Paradise Bakery?

The answer: 1,362 miles. Well, actually, I was out her on Spring Break with my family, but we’re staying in Snowmass, 12 miles away.

I had a craving for a Quiche Muffin from the Paradise Bakery at 6:15 a.m. and so I hopped on a city bus and took a 25 minute ride into Aspen. Some might call that compulsive. I like to think of it this way— I am passionate about food.

The Quiche Muffin holds a special place in my heart. The first time I ate one was on my honeymoon in 1993. After a Methodist church wedding, I flew my new bride out to Las Vegas to get married by an Elvis Impersonator at the Graceland Wedding Chapel on the Strip (his name was Norm). We spent one night in a tacky hotel in Vegas, and then flew to Aspen for the honeymoon.

On our first morning in Aspen, we stumbled across the Paradise Bakery. We each ate a Quiche Muffin, and both love affairs have been going strong ever since.

The Quiche Muffin is an anomaly. It is shaped like a standard muffin, but it has more of the custard-like qualities of quiche. It’s not too bread-like, though. Beautiful, compact, flavorful, original, everything a breakfast in a resort should be.

As I write, I am sitting in the same honeymoon hotel lobby at 7 a.m. —albeit illegally, while stealing their free wireless internet access to write this column— eating a Ham and Cheese Quiche muffin, and a Spinach Quiche Muffin. They are fantastic.

I once tinkered around with a recipe to combine traditional quiche ingredients and incorporate flour so the finished product would be substantial enough to be hand-held while eating, but gave up after several failed attempts. Based on this covert, yet tasty, breakfast, I think I will now figure out the recipe to the ever eluding Quiche Muffin and include it in my next cookbook.

The Paradise Bakery was formed in Long Beach, California, there are 72 units today. But the Aspen unit was the second store, and it doesn’t feel like a chain, at all. The food certainly doesn’t, as the Quiche Muffins are usually the first breakfast items to go. Get there early.

I am told that other Paradise Bakery units take the Quiche Muffins, stuff more vegetables on top and then wrap them in phyllo pastry— sounds good. They can’t do that in Aspen because of the altitude.

So here I am, in a hotel lobby in Aspen, CO at 7 a.m., writing a food column for Southern newspapers, looking over my shoulder hoping I don’t get busted by the front desk clerk for stealing their wireless internet, and eating Quiche Muffins. This food-column writing is dangerous business.

My wife and kids are back in Snowmass, sound asleep after a full day of skiing. We’ve got one full day in the snow after today, then it’s off to the beach for a Spring Break sandwich topped with snow and sand. I’ll have two more opportunities to eat Quiche Muffins at the Paradise Bakery, and I think I’ll make good use of both of them.


Mushroom, Leek and Ham Quiche
1 recipe Savory Pie Crust, recipe follows
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
3 cups thinly sliced leeks, white parts only
6 ounces diced ham
8 ounces thinly sliced button mushrooms
2 teaspoons fresh thyme
1 teaspoon minced garlic
1 teaspoons salt, plus 1/4 teaspoon
1/2 teaspoon fresh ground white pepper
1/2 cup heavy cream
6 large eggs
1 1/2 ounces grated smoked cheddar, plus 1 1/2 ounces
Directions
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
Roll out the pie crust on a lightly floured surface to fit a deep 9 or 10-inch pie pan. Place the pastry in the pie pan and crimp edges decoratively. Refrigerate at least 30 minutes, then line with aluminum foil. Fill with pie weights and bake for 12 to 15 minutes, or until lightly golden around the edges. Remove foil and pie weights, and return to the oven for 3 to 5 minutes. Remove from the oven and place crust on a wire rack to cool.
Set a 12-inch saute pan over medium heat, and add the butter and olive oil and once the butter is melted, add the leeks to the pan and cook, stirring occasionally, until the onions and leeks are wilted, and lightly caramelized, about 8 minutes. Add the ham, mushrooms, thyme, and garlic to the pan and season with 1 teaspoon of the salt and the pepper. Cook the leeks, ham and mushrooms, stirring occasionally, until most of the moisture has cooked out of the mushrooms and they are caramelized, 8 to 10 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat and allow the onions, ham and mushrooms to cool for 10 minutes before placing in the pie crust.
In a medium bowl, combine the heavy cream, eggs, and the remaining 1/4 teaspoon salt and whisk until just combined. Stir 1 1/2 ounces of the grated cheese, then pour the cream mixture over the onion mixture, and sprinkle the remaining cheese over top. Place the pie tin on a sheet pan and place in the oven. Bake until golden brown, and the custard has set, 35 to 40 minutes. Be sure to rotate the sheet pan after 15 to 20 minutes to ensure even browning.
Yield:1 (9 or 10-inch) pie
For the Savory Pie Crust:
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons creole seasoning
1/2 teaspoon salt
4 ounces (1 stick) cold unsalted butter, cut into pieces
3 to 4 tablespoons ice water, as needed
In the bowl of a food processor combine flour, Creole seasoning, salt, and butter and process until mixture resembles coarse crumbs. While the motor is running, add water in increments until dough just comes together to form a ball. Transfer dough to a lightly floured surface and shape into a flat disk. Refrigerate overnight or at least 1 hour.
Remove from refrigerator and roll out on a lightly floured surface to desired shape and thickness.
Yield: 8 servings
.

St. Patrick’s Day


St. Patrick’s Day is a paradox. It’s an annual feast day set in the middle of a season in which people are supposed to be fasting.

During my childhood in Hattiesburg, Mississippi, St. Patrick’s Day was nothing more than a small mention in my elementary school classroom and the opportunity to pinch someone if they weren’t wearing green. No parades, no green beverages, no cabbage and corned beef— it was just another early spring day.

In 1982 I was living in Jackson and witnessed Jackson’s first St. Patrick’s Day parade. Restaurateur/concert promoter/arts promoter Malcolm White gathered a few friends, loaded them into the beds of pickup trucks, and made an impromptu trek around downtown Jackson.

I don’t know how many people were at that inaugural event, but it didn’t seem like many. It looked like a rag-tag group of fun-seekers who had— at the spur of the moment— loaded into pick-up trucks and driven around Jackson. I didn’t give it a second thought.

If I had to guess, I’d say that there might have been a couple of hundred people at the first parade, at best. One person who was definitely there was Jill Conner Browne. On a lark, she dressed as a Sweet Potato Queen. Today, almost three-million copies of seven books— two of which were number one New York Times bestsellers— multiple television appearances and book signings, 5,768 SPQ Wannabe chapter groups in 22 countries, and over $300,000.00 raised for the Blair E. Batson Children’s Hospital later, Jill Conner Browne is the undisputed Queen of Mississippi.

To put things in perspective, 70,000 visitors will visit Elvis Presley’s birthplace in Tupelo during the 12 months of 2009. On March 21st— in one single day— over 100,000 people will attend Mal’s St. Paddy’s Day Parade in downtown Jackson. The Sweet Potato Queen has surpassed the King of Rock and Roll. Browne is a one-woman tourism commission.

Sweet Potato Queen wannabes will travel from all over the world to attend this year’s parade. Chapter representatives will be in attendance from Germany, France, and Italy. In the Who’s-Traveled-Farthest category— a group of 11 Sweet Potato Queen Wannabes are flying in from Indonesia with the sole purpose of attending the parade (and, of course, having a blast).

In one of the parade’s most notable happenings this year, a couple from Sarasota, FL will get married on the Sweet Potato Queen’s float, during the parade, in front of the judges’ stand. I am told they are shooting for the largest group of bridesmaids in the Guinness Book of World Records. They will most certainly grab the record for the most diverse and outlandishly dressed group of attendants in the history of matrimony

Malcolm gave the parade its start, Jill Conner Browne gave it its heart, and people from all over the world have a positive opinion of Mississippi thanks to them. Most importantly, over $300,000.00 has been raised to help the Blair E. Batson Children’s Hospital which is home to the state’s only children’s cancer clinic, it’s only cystic fibrosis program, and it’s only epilepsy center.

St. Patrick’s Day, a paradox? Maybe. A whole lot of fun? Absolutely. And a great Mississippi tradition, thanks to Malcolm White and Jill Conner Browne.



My Jill’s Sweet Potatoes

4 cups Sweet potatoes, cooked, peeled and mashed
3 cups Sugar
4 Eggs, beaten
1 cup Heavy cream
3 sticks Butter, divided, softened
1 tsp Cinnamon
1 tsp Nutmeg
1 cup Rice Krispies
1 cup Pecans, chopped fine
1 cup Walnuts, chopped fine
1 cup Brown sugar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Grease a 13 x 9 casserole dish. Combine hot sweet potatoes, sugar, eggs, cream, 1 1/2 sticks of the butter, cinnamon, and nutmeg in a bowl; mix thoroughly. Add sweet potato mixture to greased casserole dish.

Combine Rice Krispies, pecans, walnuts and remaining 1 1/2 sticks of softened butter and brown sugar into a bowl. Mix until crumbly. Sprinkle over sweet potato mixture.

Bake 40-45 minutes or until center is hot. Yield:10-12 servings

Lent


The Lenten Season has begun.

In most Christian denominations, Lent is the 40-day period of fasting and prayer before Easter.

Growing up, I attended church, religiously. If the doors were unlocked at Main Street United Methodist Church in my hometown of Hattiesburg, I was usually there— Sunday mornings, Sunday evenings, Wednesday evenings, Thursday night youth group, and skating in the Fellowship Hall on Saturdays.

My favorite time to attend church was Wednesday nights during the summer for covered-dish suppers. My church was filled with great cooks. Ladies would line the Fellowship Hall with casseroles, fired chicken, and homemade cakes, and pies. In addition to my grandmother’s house, my love of Southern food was formed in church.

At my church we loved to eat. That might be why I don’t remember anyone fasting during Lent. Actually, I was in my 40s before I learned that fasting during Lent wasn’t an practice exclusive to Catholics.

As a kid I always heard the term “Lent” but it was never followed by the word “fast,” other than, “It’s the 12 th day of Lent. How ‘fast’ can we get to the Fellowship Hall to eat some green bean casserole.”

Maybe I wasn’t paying attention, though I don’t remember anyone in my family ever fasting, either. None of my relatives fasted and none of my neighbors fasted. As far as I was concerned, fasts and fish-on-Fridays were for the Catholics.

I never knew any Baptists who fasted. I knew a few Episcopalians who gave up drinking for Lent, but I don’t know any who made it all the way until Easter.

It might have been a communication problem. Maybe the word just didn’t circulate in my church. I have Baptist friends who tell me about how fast news travels in their church. They call it “gossip.” In the Methodist church, we don’t gossip, we just put your name on the prayer list. “Betty, did you hear what Erma’s husband did? We better add his name to the prayer list.”

I am so ignorant when it comes to fasting that the first conversation I ever had with anyone about the subject was last year. My friend, Kevin (a Methodist, by the way), fasted for 28 days drinking water only, he went another seven days with no solid food, and then spent 14 days eating just vegetables. Being a Methodist, odds are high that a green-bean casserole that was the first vegetable dish he consumed after 35 days without food.

“Verily I say unto you, Pyrex is the dish that pulls us through”— Book of Robert, Chapter 2, verse 34.

Maybe it’s not ignorance. Maybe it’s selective listening. My wife says I have a chronic case of that particular malady. Maybe people were talking about fasting all of the time while I was growing up. Maybe I was too busy eating to pay attention to what they were saying. It could have been that they were taking with their mouths full and I couldn’t understand all of the important details that pertained to fasting. All I remember is that we always ate before church, at church, and after church.

Nevertheless, I am not fasting this year. Actually, the only thing that I am giving up during this the Lenten season is fasting. Though that’s actually nothing different that I do during the rest of the year, so it probably doesn’t count.

I don’t mean to be disrespectful to people who fast. I have nothing against it. I am probably as devout as the next guy. It’s just that eating is in my church DNA. I am Methodist, therefore I eat (casseroles). For the rest of you— hurry Easter!



Robert’s Mainly Methodist Green Bean Casserole

1 qt Chicken Broth
4 cans Green Beans, drained (14.5 oz cans)

1/4 cup Bacon, very small dice
1/2 cup Yellow Onion, small dice
1/4 cup Red Bell Pepper, small dice
1/4 cup Green Bell Pepper, small dice
2 tsp Garlic, minced
2 tsp Caraway seeds
1 tsp Creole Seasoning
1 tsp Black Pepper

4oz can Sliced Water Chestnuts, drained
1cup Sour Cream
1/2 cup Sharp Cheddar, shredded

1 cup Panko bread crumbs
1/3 cup Parmesan Cheese, grated
1/4 cup Parsley, freshly chopped
2 TBL Melted Butter




Preheat oven to 350.

In a large saucepot, bring chicken broth to a boil. Place green beans in the broth and gently simmer 10 minutes. Drain the green beans.

Heat a medium sized sauté pan over medium-high heat. Place the bacon in the pan and cook it until it become brown and crispy. Stir often to prevent burning. Add the onion and peppers and sauté for three minutes. Add garlic, caraway seeds, Creole seasoning, black pepper and cook for an additional three minutes.

Combine green beans, sautéed bacon-vegetable mixture, water chesnuts, sour cream, and cheddar in a large stainless steel bowl. Place in a 2 quart baking dish. Cover the dish with foil and bake for 20 minutes.

Combine the bread crumbs, parmesan cheese, parsley and melted butter. Remove the foil and top with the bread crumb mixture. Bake for 10-15 more minutes, until the topping is light brown in color. Let casserole sit for 10 minutes before serving.

Yield:
8 servings

Cocktail Sauce


Yesterday, I was watching my 11-year old daughter eat Chargrilled Oysters at Drago’s in New Orleans while my seven year-old son ate fried shrimp.

Oysters and shrimp are the foods from my youth which still lease a substantial plot of real estate in my heart.

While we were sitting at the counter in Drago’s, my son said, “Daddy will you please mix up some cocktail sauce for me?” As I was placing all of the ingredients in his small ramekin, my mind traveled back to a long-gone restaurant on the Mississippi Gulf Coast.

Baricev’s restaurant in Biloxi was my family’s special occasion restaurant when we were on the coast. I ate my first raw oyster there while sitting at a table with my grandfather. He made a simple cocktail sauce for me with the ingredients on the oyster tray and the condiments on the table. It was my first exposure to horseradish. I loved it.

The next time we were there, I made my own cocktail sauce: Ketchup, lots of horseradish, freshly squeezed lemon juice, a dash of Worcestershire, and some pepper. Simple, pure, flavorful. It’s the recipe I still use today when making cocktail sauce. It’s the recipe we’ve used in the Crescent City Grill for 21 years.

Actually, at 10-year’s old— and after a lifetime of recipes— Cocktail Sauce is probably the first recipe I ever created. I had an Easy Bake Oven when I was six, but all of the recipes prepared in it were done from pre-portioned mixes. I would imagine that Cocktail Sauce is the first, working-without-a-net recipe I ever created.

Cocktail Sauce is a mainstay in Southern seafood restaurants. Mine was certainly not an original recipe, but how many are? Most recipes today are just variations on the same theme.

The exact make-up of Cocktail Sauce is debatable down South. Most people would scoff at my recipe because it doesn’t contain hot sauce. I have nothing against hot sauce, I actually bottle and sell it. I just like to get my cocktail sauce “heat” from horseradish, and a lot of it.

New Orleans horseradish is stronger than most. I am not sure what type or variety they use down there, but half the normal amount of New Orleans horseradish will be enough to open up the sinuses of even the toughest palate.

Fried shrimp was a special occasion meal for me when I was a kid. It was usually someone’s birthday or we were out of town if I was eating fried shrimp. In the meatloaf-laden, stuffed pepper and TV Dinner days of the late 1960s and early 1970s, my family hardly ever “went out” to eat.

The world has changed. People dine out all of the time. It’s a good thing for restaurateurs like me, but it might be a bad thing for families. The special occasion aspect of dining out is taken away when one eats out five nights a week.

I am chief among the sinners. My family travels and dines with me all of the time. Sitting at Drago’s I began to wonder which early childhood food memories they will consider one day. A dad’s first cocktail sauce? Maybe so.


Robert’s Cocktail Sauce

1 1 /2 cups Ketchup
3 Tbl Fresh lemon juice
2 tsp Worcestershire sauce
1 /4 cup Prepared Horseradish (more if you’re brave, less if it’s New Orleans horseradish)
1 /2 tsp Black pepper, freshly ground

Combine all ingredients and mix well. Refrigerate two hours before serving. Yield: two cups Yield: 8-10 servings

Four Diamonds



I am currently in my 10th year of writing this weekly column.

For the last decade I have written approximately 750 words every week, 52 weeks a year, without ever missing a column.

Over the course of those 520 columns, 352 recipes, and roughly 390,000 words, I have written about strange foodstuffs, quirky food news, my kids and their relationship to food, my childhood and how the foods of my youth molded my career, my friends, my home state, my South, and have I have kept an extensive dining diary of the hundreds of restaurants I have visited across the country.

What I haven’t done is write a lot about my restaurants. Actually, I have gone to great lengths NOT to write about my restaurants, even when there are notable and noteworthy events in my own backyard. Occasionally I will write about a humorous event that happened in the early days or make an obscure reference to a dish we serve in comparison to a dish in a restaurant that I am visiting, but I have done my best to focus more on other restaurants whether they are in my town or not. Frankly, I have always worried that someone might think that I was using these column inches as a bully pulpit to promote my businesses.

Well, pardon me while I step up into the pulpit, and allow me— just this once— to crow about one of my restaurants.

Our flagship restaurant, The Purple Parrot Café, located in my hometown of Hattiesburg, was just awarded a Four-Diamond rating from the AAA Travel Guide. It is a very big day around here.

Out of the nation’s 945,000 restaurants, only 768 received four diamonds. There are only two independent restaurants in Mississippi that have reached that level: KC’s in Cleveland, and The Purple Parrot Café. New Orleans— one of America’s top-three restaurant cities— only has six four-diamond restaurants. Memphis has one.

We held an announcement/plaque unveiling party for our staff and management last night. I told them how proud I was of them and of the job they had done, but most importantly, I gave credit where credit was due— with them. They earned it. No question. I told them that out of all of the people gathered in the room, I had done the least to help us reach four diamonds, though the unfortunate reality of the situation is that I receive the most credit. I am the one who is the most visible.

I assured my staff last night that whenever I am giving a speech or signing books, or doing whatever it is that I do outside of the restaurant, I always give credit where credit is due— with them. A restaurant can’t win a four-diamond rating because a guy sells a lot of books. It takes hard work, dedication, and commitment. Traveling and giving speeches has nothing to do with it.

So I will use this space to, once again, give credit where credit is due— with the managers, chefs, sommeliers, cooks, servers, busboys, bartenders, hosts, and all of the support staff. Well done, ladies and gentlemen.

Our current staff and management team is the best in our 21-year history. But there were many servers, cooks, chefs, and managers through the years that helped us get to this point. Thank you, too. This is beginning to read like an award ceremony acceptance speech, I know, but allow me one last acknowledgement.

Most of all, I want to thank the customers who have supported us through the years. We have been fortunate to have a small group of dedicated regulars who have stood by us for over two decades. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

The AAA Travel award winners can be found on their website, as well as the criteria used for achieving the Four-Diamond rating.



Purple Parrot Café Lobster Risotto

3 Lobsters, 1 1/2 pounds, cooked and cleaned
(reserve lobster meat for risotto and use shells and bodies for stock)
3 Tbl Clarified Butter
1/2 lb. Aborio rice
1/2 cup Shallots, chopped fine
1 qt Lobster stock, hot
1 Bay leaf
1 bunch Asparagus, cut into 2-inch pieces
3/4 cup Whipping cream
1/2 cup Parmesan cheese, grated
2 teaspoons Salt
1 tsp Black pepper, freshly ground
1/4 cup Fresh parsley, chopped
1 Tbl Fresh thyme, chopped

In a large skillet, heat butter over low medium heat. Add shallots and cook until they become soft. Add rice and stir continually until rice gets hot. Do not brown. Reduce heat to low and add one cup of stock. Turn heat down so that the stock is just barely simmering. Continue to stir constantly. As the stock is absorbed, add more stock in small amounts. Continue this process until the grains have become slightly tender.
Just before adding last ladle of stock, add asparagus pieces and lobster meat. Add remaining stock. Add cream, Parmesan, salt, pepper, and herbs and cook until thickened, about 4–5 minutes. Serve immediately

The First Presbyterian Church in my hometown asked me to serve as a judge in their first annual chili cook-off this weekend. After some persistence, I agreed.

I have tried to wean myself off of judging cooking contests. Several years ago I was asked to judge an out-of-state cooking contest where the contestants were asked to create home-cooking style dishes in several categories. The judging table was on a stage in an auditorium filled mostly with ladies who had submitted dishes.

The ladies stood at the edge of the stage and glared intently as I tasted each entry. They seemed to be searching for subtle nuances and expressions which would give them some type of clue as to what I thought of their particular dish. The pressure was intense.

Some of the dishes were OK, but most of them were pretty bad. Unfortunately, I am not very good at acting, so when I tasted tuna casserole number six— a lovely and inventive creation that was more akin to a fish-flavored chipped beef on toast with something gelatinous on top— I had to force a smile.

It should be noted at this point that I was born with a very weak stomach. My friends who know me well will attest to this. I get nauseated at the mention of some things and often have to leave the room at the mention of others. This came in handy when it was time to change diapers at home, but it is a burden while judging a cooking contest.

A new acquaintance is usually surprised when I talk of my weak stomach. They say, “No way. You’re that food guy who eats everything.”

At that point I correct them and say, “Wrong. I am that food guy who eats a lot.” There is a difference between quantity and quality. I am not a food snob, far from it. But there is a huge difference in eating 36 courses at The French Laundry and 27 versions of Tamale Surprise at a sate fair.

I once filmed a segment with Andrew Zimmern on his Travel Channel show Bizarre Foods. In the segment, he ate baked coon and opossum. I passed. Actually, if one watches the episode closely, you can see me coming pretty close to hurling. Good TV, I know.

Back to the angry ladies. The home-cooking contest was one of the early food judging events I had attended. I didn’t know to tell the event organizers to make sure I was seated in a back room while I tasted the entries. I had never entered a cooking competition, so I didn’t know to tell them to make sure it’s a blind tasting. They watched as I tasted each dish. Most dishes were pretty bad.

I tried to mask my imminent nausea on a few occasions, but I was probably not very successful in pulling that off. I will say this— the tuna casserole did not win the day.

Once the event was over, a lady whose dish hadn’t won came up to me and said, “What was wrong with my dish?” I stuttered and stammered and tried to think of a way to let her down easy.

Eventually I said something like, “It was a hard choice, they were all very interesting entries, but maybe you could tweak your recipe a little bit.”

To which she replied, “Well I got it out of one of your cookbooks.” Touché.

So how does a guy who doesn’t eat a lot of chili end up as a judge in a local chili contest? I have no idea. Maybe everyone else said “No.”

As it turns out, it ended up as most cooking competitions I have judged, one entry stood out among the others as a great entry. In the end, it was for an excellent cause, and a good time was had by all.


My Favorite Chili

1 Tbl Olive oil
1 Tbl Bacon Fat
2 pounds Beef sirloin, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
2 1/2 tsp Kosher Salt
1 1/2 tsp Fresh ground black pepper
3 cups Yellow onion, medium dice
1 cup Carrot, finely shredded
1/4 cup Garlic, freshly minced
1 Tbl Ground Cumin
2 tsp Ground Coriander
1 tsp Oregano
1 1/2 Tbl Chili powder
1 6-oz can Tomato paste
2 28-oz cans Diced tomatoes
1 quart V-8 juice
1 quart Hot chicken broth
2 Bay leaves
2 14-oz cans Kidney beans, drained and rinsed
2 Tbl Corn flour
1/2 cup Water
1 Tbl Lime juice, freshly squeezed
1/4 cup Fresh cilantro, chopped

Heat the oil and bacon fat in an 8- quart, heavy duty sauce pot over high heat. Sprinkle the meat with salt and black pepper. Place half of the meat in the very hot oil. DO NOT MOVE THE MEAT FOR 3-4 MINUTES, you want to achieve a nice golden brown sear. Turn the meat over and brown the other side the best you can. Remove the meat with a slotted spoon and place it on a paper towel to drain. Repeat this process with the remaining meat.

Turn the heat to medium and add the onion, carrot and garlic to the pot. Cook for 3-4 minutes. Using a wooden spoon, stir in the cumin, coriander, chili powder and tomato paste. Cook for 10 minutes, stirring constantly to prevent burning. This step is very important, caramelizing the sugars in the tomato paste and vegetables will make a huge difference in the outcome of the chili.

Return the meat to the pot. Add the canned tomatoes, V-8 juice, chicken broth, and bay leaves. Simmer VERY slowly for 2-3 hours. Stir often to prevent sticking. Add the beans and simmer for 15 more minutes.

Turn up the heat up so that the chili reaches a slow boil. Combine the corn flour with the water to make a paste. Stir the corn flour mixture into the chili. Allow the chili to cook for 2-3 more minutes. Remove from heat and stir in the lime juice and cilantro.

Yield: 1 gallon

© Robert St.John, from his cookbook, Southern Seasons

What’s In A Name?


Whenever I give a speech or speak to a classroom full of students, I always solicit questions. It’s my favorite part of the process. I am much more interested in responding to issues people are interested in than trying to decipher what they want to hear.

One of the most common questions I receive is, “How did you come up with the name Purple Parrot Café?”

I wish there was a better story behind the naming of my first restaurant, but unfortunately our moniker came from nothing more than the desire to take a few hours off.

In the summer of 1987, as my original business partner and I were preparing to open “the restaurant” as it was then called. We took a break from the stressful grind of pre-opening construction and traveled to Biloxi to a Jimmy Buffett concert. Later that night, on the way home, we started trying to come up with a name for our soon-to-be-opened restaurant. As a joke— and with Buffett’s Parrothead music still ringing in my ears— I said, “What if we call it The Purple Parrot?”

We both laughed and agreed on calling it Purple Parrot until we came up with a better name. We continued with the construction, hiring, and training process, all the while trying to come up with a better name for our business.

He suggested “Café St.John,” since I had been a lifelong 26-year resident of the community. I quickly shot that title down. I can’t remember any of the other potential candidates but we eventually ran out of time, and for lack of a better name, it stuck.

Other than a menu heavily based on fresh seafood, there is nothing tropical about the Purple Parrot Café. We are as inland as an inland restaurant can be.

“It must great to own a restaurant and be able to ‘eat out’ whenever you want.” I get that question all of the time. Actually, I don’t eat as a customer in my restaurants very often.

I am a terrible dining companion when I’m my own customer. I can’t help but be in manager-mode as I look around the dining room scouring every nook and cranny in search of a picture that needs straightening, or a glass of tea that needs more ice in it. I worry about the customer who might be trying to flag down their server or that small piece of bread that accidentally dropped off of a server’s tray.

My business partner Clint Taylor and I call it “Restaurant eyes”, my wife Jill calls it the “The curse of a restaurateur’s wife”. “As fate would have it,” she says “We own the two best restaurants in town, and you won’t eat in either one of them with your own family!”

In fact, I eat there all of the time. But most of my dining occurs without my family in the back office, or while standing up tasting new dishes with the other chefs in the kitchen. There are also many meals eaten out of Styrofoam To-Go boxes in the office or at home and the occasional quick lunch with a friend at the bar.

After 21 years I have become a better customer in my restaurants. I am certainly better at answering questions, and I am grateful that— even though it has no bearing on the concept— we kept the name Purple Parrot Café.


PS—Allow me to brag a little. The Purple Parrot Café was just awarded a Four-Diamond rating in the 2009 AAA Travel Guide. There are only two independent restaurants in Mississippi with that high honor (KC’s in Cleveland is the other). As a matter of fact, New Orleans— one of the nation’s top five restaurant cities— only had six Four-Diamond award honorees out of the city’s 980 restaurants. Thanks to our managers, staff, and customers over the last 21years for making this honor possible.



Purple Parrot Cafe Corn and Crab Bisque

1/2 teaspoon Clarified Butter or canola oil
1/3 cup yellow onion, medium dice
1/4 cup green bell peppers, medium dice
1/4 cup celery, medium dice
1 teaspoon garlic, minced
1 1/2 teaspoons basil, dried
1 teaspoon white pepper
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/2 teaspoon thyme
1 1/2 quarts Chicken Stock (or low sodium chicken broth)
1/4 cup white wine
1 Tablespoon brandy
2 teaspoons Worcestershire
2 teaspoons Hot Sauce
3 cups fresh corn kernels, scraped with pulp (or 2 cans whole kernal corn, drained)
1/2 cup canola oil
1/2 cup flour
3 cups heavy cream
1 cup Half-n-Half
1 Tablespoon Creole Seasoning
2 pounds jumbo lump crabmeat, picked of all shell

In an 8-quart saucepan, sweat onion, bell pepper, and celery in oil over medium heat until soft. Add garlic, basil, pepper, cayenne, and thyme. Stir well, making sure that spices are incorporated. Add stock, wine, brandy, Worcestershire, and Hot Sauce. Cook on high heat 7–10 minutes, then reduce heat to medium. While stock is boiling, make a light peanut butter–colored roux with the oil and flour. Add the roux to the hot stock and stir thoroughly. Add heavy cream, Half-n-Half, Creole Seasoning, and crabmeat. Serve hot and garnish with freshly chopped parsley.Yield: 1 gallon

The 11 Worst Foods of 2008


I have been told that more gym memberships are sold in January than during the other months of the year, combined.

Being in the restaurant business for 28 years, I can attest that more diets are started during the first month of the year. I can personally confirm that most diets don’t make it to February.

Now that we’re nearing the end of the month— as calorie counters and carb critics begin to crave “real food”— I thought I would share an email I received from the people at dailyspark.com.

Each year the Daily Spark publishes a list of the worst food of the previous year (http://www.dailyspark.com/blog.asp?post=the_11_worst_foods_of_2008 ). I should mention that “worst” does not necessarily mean “bad tasting.” The Daily Spark is only interested in physical condition and nutrition. When the Spark people say “worst,” they are speaking in terms of health and wellbeing.

The 11 Worst Foods of 2008 list starts out with a harmless cup of caramel-flavored hot chocolate from a very popular national coffee chain that weighs in at a surprising 550 calories with 24 grams of fat. One fast food restaurant’s Gourmet Mushroom Swiss Burger contains 600 calories and 36 grams of fat, another fast food burger chain’s Mushroom Swiss Steakhouse Burger has 850 calories and 48 grams of fat— no fries, no cola, just the burger.

Some of the findings were surprising. At a mid-scale casual national Italian chain, the Seared Scallops Salad—a healthy menu alternative, one would think— carried 1,270 calories and 94 grams of fat. I am always baffled by people who are trying to eat healthfully while dumping tons of cream and oil based dressings on their cheese-filled greens.

Other findings were scary. One could wake up to a stack of Butterscotch Rocks pancakes at a national pancake chain and kick off the day with 1,310 calories and 52 grams of fat. Guess what’s for lunch? Rice Cakes. Guess what’s for dinner? Water.

A national chicken chain sells a Fully Loaded Box Meal that packs 1,320 calories and a fast-food taco chain sells an item that they call Fully Loaded Nachos that lives up to its name and is loaded with 1,390 calories and 83 grams of fat. It’s probably a good idea to stay away from things that are fully “loaded” until we reach our ideal body weight.

One of the biggest surprises came in at number two on the worst-foods list and is sold in a national sandwich chain. The item is a Prime Rib Cheesesteak sandwich on toasted bread which packs 1,490 calories and 88 grams of fat. A sandwich.

I’m a big guy. My daily caloric intake needs hover somewhere around 3,000 calories per day. That means as long as I take in roughly 3,000 total calories a day, and as long as those calories are a good mix of lean protein, complex, high-fiber carbohydrates, and healthy fats (olive oil, nuts, not cream and cheese), I can maintain a hale and hearty lifestyle.

I would guess that the average woman needs roughly 2,000 calories a day to maintain her ideal body weight. It just so happens that the average woman can blow her entire daily caloric intake on one menu item sold at a national casual chain restaurant. The number one item on Spark’s 2008 list was an order of Texas Cheese Fries with Jalapeño Ranch Dressing which tips the scales at 2,070 calories and 160 grams of fat. The dish also contains almost two days worth of sodium.

I am certainly not disparaging any of the restaurants on the list. Actually, I am chief among the sinners. My restaurants sell all sorts of good-tasting, yet fattening foods. Julia Child once told me that the key to eating well is “moderation.” It certainly worked for her.

So here’s to all of the New Year’s resolution dieters who are starting to waver and are craving cheese, fried food, and pancakes. Hang in there. Be strong. I’m with you. I’m 20 down with 20 to go. We’ll make it together, and when we do, the cheese fries are on me!



Fish Tacos with Fresh Fruit Pico di Gallo or Sweet Corn and Black Bean Salsa

2# mahi mahi filets

2 tsp cumin
1 tsp coriander
1 tsp chili powder
1 tsp granulated garlic
2 tsp kosher salt
1/8 tsp cayenne pepper

Combine seasoning, sprinkle fish with seasoning, cover and refrigerate for one hour.
Cook the fish, prepare your outdoor grill to cook over a medium heat. Lightly oil the fish and grill for 4-5 minutes on each side.
Allow the fish to cool slightly then cut into thin strips.

To serve:
Allow guests to make their own taco creations. Set out the cooked fish and prepared salsas along with:

1 1/2 cups shredded green cabbage
1 1/2 cup shredded red cabbage
24 corn tortillas

Place 2-3 thin fish strips in each tortilla and add a small amount of the shredded cabbage and Fresh Fruit Pico di Gallo or Sweet Corn and Black Bean Salsa.
Yield : Tacos for 6-8 people


Fresh Fruit Pico di Gallo

1 cup fresh tomatoes, small diced
1/4 cu red onions, small diced
2 Tbl. cilantro, chopped
2 tsp fresh jalapenos, seeds removed and minced
1/2 cup pineapple, small diced
1 kiwi, peeled and small dice
1/2 cup orange segments
1/2 cup lime segments
1/2 tsp Salt

Combine all ingredients together and refrigerate until ready to serve.


Sweet Corn and Black Bean Salsa

1 Tbl olive oil
1/4 cup yellow onion, minced
2 tsp garlic, minced
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cumin
1/4 tsp coriander
1/8 tsp dry oregano
1 1/2 cups fresh tomato concassee (or 1 can rotel tomatoes- 10 ounces)
1 cup canned black beans, drained and rinsed
1 cup fresh sweet corn cut from the cob
1/4 cup green onions, thinly sliced
2 tsp fresh lime juice

Place the olive oil in a small stainless steel sauce pot over medium heat. Add the onions, garlic, salt, cumin, coriander and oregano to the warm oil and cook for 5 minutes, stirring often to prevent burning. Add in the rotel tomatoes and allow the mixture to simmer for 2-3 minutes. Add in the black beans and corn and cook for 5 more minutes. Stir in the thinly sliced green onions and lime juice and remove from the heat.

Culinary Infidelity


I have been cheating on my wife.

It's true. I've been sneaking around behind her back, and lately my rendezvous' have been getting more frequent. I feel guilty and believe it’s time to air out my dirty laundry. This might seem like an odd forum to address marital infidelity, but I am not Catholic so this medium will have to serve as my confession.

Maybe I should clarify that another woman has nothing to do with my unfaithfulness. No. I have cheated on my wife with food.

Raw oysters are my mistress. My wife believes strongly that no one should eat raw oysters. She's read alarmist-authored articles and half-cocked studies that speak to the dangers of consuming raw oysters. I, on the other hand, grew up eating raw oysters. I love them.

One of the biggest disputes in our 20-year relationship was over raw oysters. After that I figured that it would be easier to stop eating them than to deal with the conflict— a man has to pick his battles.

Enter the paramour.

My Hattiesburg bar concept, The Mahogany Bar, began serving oysters on the half shell last year. Originally we were purchasing our oysters from P&J Oysters out of New Orleans. They are the gold standard for oysters. All of the great restaurants and oyster bars throughout New Orleans use P&J. They're great, but I was able to resist them and keep my marriage pure.

Then we changed our oyster supplier.

When we brought in the new company, I had to taste-test the new oysters. After all, I am the executive chef . I never thought we’d be able to best our original supplier. My marriage would be safe. I was wrong. The oysters were amazing. They were— by far— the best I had ever eaten. Plump, clean, salty, cold, and just the right size. I succumbed to the moment, gave in to temptation, and ate two dozen on the spot.

Remorse set in. I felt guilty, but I held on to the hope that this might have been a fluke, and that my time away from oysters had made my taste buds grow fonder. A few weeks later, walking through the bar, I noticed a bartender shucking a dozen. They looked so pretty. As I walked past they seemed to be giving me a siren call. I gave in to temptation again and ate another two dozen oysters to make sure that the first time wasn’t a fluke and that these oysters were, in fact, the most unbelievably tasty oysters on the planet. They were.

I put my staff on full alert. Be on the lookout for my wife. Give me the signal if she comes anywhere close to the building. I did whatever it took not to get caught with an oyster fork in my hand. I made sure not to come home with horseradish on my breath or the smell of cocktail sauce on my collar.

Before long my culinary infidelity intensified and I began having weekly oyster trysts in the afternoon. Then the trysts became more frequent. Now I am riddled with guilt and I have made half of my staff accomplices to my gastronomic adultery.

Recently, it’s gotten worse. I have been two-timing my wife AND my mollusky mistress. The courtesan: Mashed potatoes.

Over a month ago, my wife and I started a diet together. Potatoes and bread are not on the "allowed" food list. Unfortunately the beginning of the diet coincided with one of my restaurants— The Crescent City Grill— offering a great new side-dish: home-style mashed potatoes.

I love mashed potatoes. My grandmother made the best. They were light, and buttery with little lumps in them, hearty, wholesome, filling, real, comfort food. Our new home-style like-your-grandmother-used-to-make mashed potatoes replaced a roasted-garlic potato offering that I never liked. They are delicious. Whenever I eat our mashed potatoes, I post two servers at each door. “Tell me if you see her coming”

Lately, I’ve been thinking about keeping a secret apartment across town— a place to eat oysters on the half shell and mashed potatoes and sweet rolls and maybe even oyster-flavored sweet rolls on a bed of mashed potatoes. Is there a 12-step program for this? “Hi, my name is Robert, and I am a food philanderer.”


Fried Oyster Salad

4 Cups Iceberg Lettuce, cut into 2” squares
2 Cups Green Leaf Lettuce, cut into 2” squares
1/3 cup Roasted Red Bell Pepper, small dice
1 cup Shaved Red Cabbage
1/2 cup Bacon, cooked and chopped
1 cup Parmesan Cheese, grated into large shreds, divided
3/4 cup Red Onion, thinly shaved
4 Hard Boiled Eggs, chopped

Fried Oysters

32 Oysters, freshly shucked
2 cups Corn meal
1/4 cup Corn flour
2 tsp Salt
2 Tbl + 1 tsp Creole Seasoning (recipe page xx)
Peanut Oil for frying

Heat oil in cast iron skillet to 350 degrees.

Combine cornmeal, corn flour, salt and Creole seasoning. Drop oysters into cornmeal mixture and drop one at a time into hot oil. Fry until golden and crispy (approximately five minutes). Remove from oil and drain on paper towels. Hold in a 200 degree oven for 3-5 minutes while completing the assembly of the Salad


Comeback Sauce

1 cup mayonnaise
1/ 2 cup ketchup
1/ 2 cup chili sauce
1/ 2 cup cottonseed oil
1/ 2 cup yellow onion, grated
3 Tbl lemon juice
2 Tbl garlic, minced
1 Tbl paprika
1 Tbl water
1 Tbl Worcestershire
1 tsp pepper
1/ 2 tsp dry mustard
1 tsp salt

Combine all ingredients in a food processor and mix well.

Yield: 3 1/2 cups

To assemble the salad:

Place both lettuces, shredded cabbage, red bell peppers, chopped bacon and half of the parmesan cheese in a large mixing bowl. Toss the lettuce mixture with 1 1/2 cups of the comeback dressing. The lettuce should be lightly coated with the dressing (if you feel that the salad needs more dressing, add another 1/2 cup).

Divide the salad onto 8 serving plates/ Top each salad with a small amount of the remaining parmesan cheese, shaved red onion and chopped egg. Place four fried oysters on each salad and serve immediately.

Serve the remaining Comeback sauce in a side dish to be used as a dipping sauce for the oysters.

Yield 8 servings

Move Over, Ralph Lauren, The Burger King’s In Town


When I was a young boy, a neighbor asked if Santa was going to bring me everything on my Christmas wish list. I told her, “Yes.”

My mother jumped in and said, “Don’t be so sure, Robert. You know Santa keeps a naughty and nice list.”

To which I replied, “Well, I acted worse than this last year and still got everything I wanted.”

In 2008 I received everything I wanted for Christmas except a bottle of Burger King's meat-scented cologne, Flame.

I was hoping there would be a bottle of Flame in my stocking Christmas morning, but I must have been on the naughty list. That’s right, Burger King, the fast-food giant, has gotten into the fragrance business.

Flame, Burger King’s cologne for men, was released this fall and carries the tagline: "The scent of seduction with the hint of flame-broiled meat." It’s the truth, it’s actual, Burger King makes cologne. I am not joking. We have now reached a point in this Fast Food Nation where we are purchasing toiletries with a side of fries and an apple pie.

Who was the food-service executive that thought this would be a good idea? I haven’t visited a Burger King restaurant in a long time, but I wonder if they have gone the department store route and started posting a nicely dressed young woman at the end of the order counter with a tester bottle, “Double Whopper, hold the pickles, hold the lettuce, and would you like to try our new meat-scented cologne?”

“No thank you. I think I’ll just order some meat-scented meat, and eat it between two pieces of bread with mustard.”

I am not a cologne wearer. I mostly smell like soap. I have reached a point in my life where I don’t even need to purchase shampoo. Soap and a washcloth work just fine on both my hair and body. But if I did wear cologne, I wouldn’t wear one that smelled like meat, or fish, or any food product. I’d say, “Give me some of whatever Brad Pitt is wearing. That seems to work pretty well for him.”

What kind of woman is attracted to the smell of charred meat? I like beef. I eat a lot of it. A medium-rare prime, New York Strip is one of the greatest culinary joys in my life. Though I’m afraid that if I sprayed some of Burger King's cologne on me, I'd have Rottweilers chasing me down the street thinking I was an over-sized T-bone.

What's next? Underarm deodorant that smells like a fish sandwich? Mountain Dew-flavored mouthwash? Maybe other fast-food restaurants will get in on the act. Will we see Big Mac special-sauce shampoo?

Actually, if this marketing gimmick works, maybe I can pick a few items off of my menu for sale as personal grooming products. How about a Corn and Crab Bisque-scented cologne, or speckled trout after shave?

Will Burger King now get into the clothing business? Will cardboard crowns, polyester pants, and plastic name tags be the new black, or the new pink, or the new whatever is new?

For the purposes of this column, I went to the pharmacy next door to my office to see if I could purchase a bottle of Flame cologne. I wanted to give it a field test. I would spray some on, walk around my restaurant, and see if the ladies treated me differently. Unfortunately, my pharmacy only carries English Leather and Old Spice, so I’ll never know if the women of the world would have viewed me as the standard bearer of seduction with a hint of flame-broiled meat, or just another item on the lunch menu— hold the onions.



Mushroom-Swiss Burgers with Dijon-Horseradish Sauce

3 pounds Lean Ground Beef
1 Tbl Steak Seasoning
2 Tbl Unsalted butter
3 cups Sliced mushrooms
1 tsp Salt
1 tsp Fresh ground black pepper
6 1-oz Slices Swiss Cheese
6 Hamburger Buns
1/4 cup Unsalted Butter, melted
1 1/2 cup Fresh Spinach Leaves
6 Red Onion Slices
1 Recipe Dijon Horseradish Sauce

Divide the ground beef into six equal parts and form burger patties, approximately 1-1/2” thick.

Prepare the grill: Sprinkle the surface of the burgers with the steak seasoning. Cook over direct high heat for 8-10 minutes.

While the burgers are cooking:
Heat the butter in a medium sauté pan over high heat. Place mushrooms, salt, and pepper in the hot butter and sauté mushrooms for 6-7 minutes, stirring occasionally. Drain excess liquid.

While they are still on the grill, top each burger with one slice of each cheese. Divide the mushrooms evenly and place them atop the cheese. Close the lid on the grill and cook just until the cheese melts.

Brush the hamburger buns with the melted butted and toast on the grill over medium direct heat for 2-3 minutes.

Spread the Dijon mustard sauce on both sides of the bun. Place a burger on each bun and top with the fresh spinach leaves and red onions.

Yield: 6 Hamburgers


Dijon Horseradish Sauce

2 TBL Yellow mustard
1 /4 cup Prepared horseradish
3/4 cup Dijon mustard
1/4 cup Honey
2 Tbl Bourbon
1 Tbl Ketchup
1 Tbl Red wine vinegar
1 Tbl Parsley, chopped
1 tsp Fresh thyme, chopped
1 tsp Black pepper, freshly ground

Mix together all ingredients. For the best flavor, prepare and refrigerate the sauce a day in advance. Allow the sauce to reach room temperature before serving.

Yield: 1 1 /2 cups

Robert’s Top Ten 2008


Each year, my final column is a list of the top ten dining experiences I enjoyed over the previous twelve months. The list is never based on price or atmosphere. I believe that good food can be served in a fine-dining environment or in a run-down diner. The only considerations are good food and good friends, which always lead to a good time.

10.) Drago’s, New Orleans— Drago’s invented the charbroiled oyster and they do it better than anyone. The oysters are placed on the grill, doused with pepper and garlic-spiked butter, then topped with a mixture of parmesan and romano cheese, and doused with the butter again. The flames rise up and surround the oysters every time the butter is applied. The shells get charred and the oysters, smoky. Simple. Flavorful. Excellent.

9.) Table Fifty-Two, Chicago. Art Smith opened his signature restaurant in Chicago earlier this year. He serves updated Southern classics in the Windy City. The highlight of the meal came as a chef’s treat, amuse bouche— Art’s Drop Biscuits with Goat Cheese and Parmesan. Of all the meals I have eaten, in all of the cities, and all of the fine dining restaurants over the years, this meal will go down as the first time I have ever requested seconds on an amuse bouche.

8.) The Modern, New York— Danny Meyer is the most talented restaurateur in the country. The Modern is located on the first floor of the Museum of Modern Art and the food’s presentation is as artful as the works hanging in the galleries above. The Chilled Maine Lobster Salad with Soy Sprouts and Button Mushrooms in a Lobster Vinaigrette was a highlight, as was the Chorizo-Crusted Chatham Cod with White Coco Bean Puree and Harissa Oil. Long live Mr. Meyer.

7.) Frontera Grill, Chicago— For those who love Mexican food, Frontera Grill is the American Mecca. Bayless knows more about Mexican food, Mexican ingredients, and Mexican culinary customs than 99% of the chefs in Mexico. He is truly a student of the cuisine. I ate the best guacamole I’ve ever eaten and a ceviche that was out-of-this world.

6.) Balthazar, New York— I usually eat at Balthazar in SoHo for late-night, post-theatre meals. A lot of the city’s chefs hang out there after work. Breakfast at Balthazar is great. The bustle feels more like “New York” than any other place I visit. The Scrambled Eggs in Puff Pastry with Wild Mushrooms and Asparagus are almost worth the three-hour flight, alone.

5.) Blackberry Farm, Walland, TN— Every meal eaten over a four-day visit. Blackberry Farm is the most civilized 4,200 acres on the planet. The Beall family has fostered an environment in which the organization’s sole purpose is to cater to guest’s every whim. Nothing goes unnoticed at Blackberry Farm. My wife and I dropped our kids off at summer camp in Arkansas and headed east to Blackberry Farm— summer camp for adults.

4.) Nobu 57 New York— Nobu Matsuhisa is the ninja master of sushi. The original New York restaurant, Nobu, is a tough ticket, but Nobu 57 is an easily made reservation, and the food is just as good. The Yellowtail Sashimi with Jalapeño is a signature dish and not to be missed. The miso-glazed fish craze started here. The surprise hit of the dinner— though slightly out of place on a Japanese menu— were the crab and ceviche miniature tacos.

3.) Bouchon, Las Vegas— I have eaten at Thomas Keller’s homage to the French bistro several times. This trip I was in town for one reason only— to take my two children to see Cirque du Soleil’s Beatles Love. The dinner was great. The show was great. The company was beyond great.

2.) Restaurant August, New Orleans— I hosted a dinner for 14 of my friends in Chef John Besh’s former office, upstairs at August. The highlight of the meal for me was the fellowship, but the Slow-Roasted Kobe Beef Short Rib with Salsify, Potato Gnocchi, and Black Truffle came in a very close second.

1.) Gwyn’s High Alpine Lodge, Snowmass, CO— My six-year old son and I took a father-son ski trip together. It was the first time the two guys had taken a trip without the two girls. After a few days of lessons he and I spent all day— just the two of us— skiing down the mountain. We stopped for lunch and I had a bowl of vegetable soup. It was the best soup meal I have ever eaten. Actually, the soup itself was average; the company and the setting were wonderful. That day was filled with several of my all-time greatest memories.



Art Smith's Drop Biscuits with Goat Cheese and Parmesan Recipe

2 cups self-rising flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

4 tablespoons cold butter

4 tablespoons goat cheese

1 cup buttermilk, plus extra butter, to grease pan and top biscuits

1/4 cup freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese

1. Preheat oven to 425°F Place one 10-inch cast-iron pan into the oven while it is preheating. Place flour, salt, baking soda and baking powder into a medium-sized bowl. Cut in the butter and goat cheese. Make a well in the middle of the ingredients and pour in the buttermilk. Stir until the mixture is moistened, adding an extra tablespoon of buttermilk if needed.

2. Remove the hot skillet from the oven and place a tablespoon of butter into it. When the butter has melted, drop 1/4 cupfuls of batter into the pan, (use a muffin scoop to drop the batter if you have one). Brush the tops of the biscuits with melted butter. Bake from 14–16 minutes until browned on the top and bottom. Remove from the oven and sprinkle with the grated cheese. Enjoy warm!

Eggnog


I am not a fan of eggnog.

I quit drinking alcohol over two decades ago, but that has nothing to do with my dislike of eggnog. I could drink the non-alcoholic variety if I wanted to; I just never developed a taste for it.

Earlier today, while watching a football game, my 11-year old daughter came to me and said, "Daddy I don't like eggnog."

"I don't either, sweetie," I said. I thought her statement seemed somewhat random, but I assumed her mother had bought a carton of non-alcoholic eggnog at the store earlier in the day and she drank some.

"Your mother loves eggnog," I said.

"It's pretty bad. How does she drink it?"

"I don't know. She's just always liked it," I said. Then I began to worry that one of our friends might have delivered a Christmas bottle full of spiked eggnog as a Christmas happy for my wife, and my daughter drank some of it while her mother was taking a nap. “What kind of eggnog did you drink, sweetie?"

"The carton said Egg Beaters," she said.

"What?"

"Egg Beaters. It's awful."

I quickly told her that she had not, in fact, drank eggnog, but a carton of an egg substitute product that I sometimes use on my current diet.

"How do you drink that stuff?" she asked.

"Well, sweetie, I don't drink it, I cook it." She looked relieved.

Believe it or not, she's a very intelligent girl. Though I am not sure why she thought Egg Beaters were eggnog. The words “beaters” and “nog” have nothing in common. The Egg Beaters carton doesn’t have a poinsettia on it. I don’t even know what a “nog” is.

As long as she keeps making good grades in school I’ll let this one slide and write it off to holiday enthusiasm.

Eggnog is made with milk, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, some type of alcohol— bourbon, whiskey, brandy, or rum— and eggs. It’s the egg part that gets me. There is something about drinking raw eggs and milk that doesn't appeal to me. I can eat a soft-boiled egg, but I do so with toast or biscuits, not milk. Like Egg Beaters, the combination of eggs, sugar, and milk should always be cooked. Custard = good. Eggnog = Bad.

For those who want whiskey, it seems much easier to just pour some in a glass over ice and dispense with the milk and egg.

In the first Rocky movie, the title character woke up every morning and drank a few raw eggs before he went out on his morning jog through the streets of Philadelphia. Maybe my daughter has seen the movie. Maybe she was inspired by the drive and determination of Rocky Balboa. Maybe it was the Bill Conti score, who knows? Maybe she’s opting for a 21st Century sixth-grade version of Rocky and drinking a healthier alternative—Egg Beaters— before she jogs through the streets of Hattiesburg.

One thing’s for certain, in the future, I’ll bet she starts paying closer attention to product labels.



Lava Lamps

1 3-ounce package instant gelatin mix (red or blue)
1 cup boiling water
1 cup vodka
1 (750 milliliter) bottle champagne, chilled
In a medium bowl, stir together the gelatin mix and boiling water until completely dissolved, about 2 minutes. Stir in vodka. Pour the liquid into small paper cups or portion cups. Chill until set, at least 2 hours.

Pour champagne into champagne flutes. Break up the gelatin in the paper cups with a fork, and drop pieces into the champagne.

We Wish You A Figgy Christmas


A group of Christmas carolers stopped by my house last night.

I like the whole caroling thing, but I often worry about the family of unsuspecting foreigners who might have just moved into the neighborhood from a faraway land with divergent customs. I wonder what they must think when they open their front door and two dozen happy people, dressed in wool sweaters in 72-degree weather, begin belting out random songs with no preliminary forewarning.

Last night’s carolers ended their five-song set with the obligatory Christmas carol encore of “Free Bird.” Actually it was “We Wish You A Merry Christmas.” And as I sit here trying to write this column, I find it hard to focus on my topic. I can’t get the words “figgy pudding” out of my head.

I looked up the lyrics this morning:

Oh bring us a figgy pudding;
Oh bring us a figgy pudding;
Oh bring us a figgy pudding and a cup of good cheer.

Last night I thought they were singing, “Oh bring us a figgy pudding and bring it right here.” I was a little offended. It’s not every day that a group of strangers show up at your house during Sunday Night Football demanding fruit dessert.

Though, after looking up the lyrics, I am more troubled. I found out what they were really looking for was “a cup of good cheer,” which led me to believe that this group of carolers were most likely Episcopalian. I didn’t have enough booze in my liquor cabinet for 24 thirsty Episcopalians so— in the end— it’s good that I misheard the lyric. Had my mom been there she would have given them a dollar and told them to make sure and spend it on food.

Nevertheless, a melodious demand for fruit pudding and booze while someone’s watching football is overtly rude.

The problem is that I don’t know anything about figgy pudding. I eat for a living. I’m good at it. Eating is going to put my kids through college, but I don’t believe that I have ever eaten anything that was figgy.

The name itself is silly. “Figgy” is not really a word, is it? “Fig-like” seems better, maybe even “fig-style,” but figgy sounds like a cruel nickname given to an introverted fat kid by the fourth-grade bully.

No one has ever given me a figgy pudding, and I’m not sure I would eat it if they did. My friend Gene Saucier makes the best fig preserves I have ever tasted. He brought me some last week. He didn’t sing a song, or ask for a cup of hootch, he just said, “Here’s some fig preserves,” and I said, “Thank you.”

Correction, it is a word. I just looked it up: figgy [fig-ee]— adjective, containing figs: a figgy cake (origin 1540-1550).

Actually, I think “Figgy” comes from the Latin word “Figgusius,” meaning, “I want some damn pudding, and I want it now, bring it at this instant— with some whiskey— or I will continue to sing on your front porch.”

The most awkward moment in the Christmas carol/home-owner routine is always at the end. Last night— once they finished singing— they just looked at me. I looked back at them and thanked them, they said “Merry Christmas,” I returned the sentiment, they looked back at me, and I said “Merry Christmas” again. They kept looking and I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t sure if they wanted to come in, or if they wanted me to join them at their next stop. I just said, “thank you,” once again and closed the door.

Sitting here, it occurs to me that they might have been serious. Maybe their demand for figgy pudding was genuine and resolute. Maybe they did, in fact, want a 16th Century fig-like dessert.

Note: To those carolers who stopped by my house during the Cowboys-Giants game, please come back. I don’t have any figgy pudding, but I will certainly share a few of my son’s Fig Newtons with all of you (as long as there’s no football game on).



Foie Gras with Toasted Brioche, Fig Relish and reduced Port Wine Glaze

1 lb. Foie Gras cut into 2 ounce slices
1 1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/4 tsp fresh ground black pepper
8 Slice Fresh Brioche, crusts removed and cut in half on a diagonal
1 recipe Fig Relish
1 Recipe Port Wine Glaze

Preheat oven to 450

Arrange the brioche on a baking sheet.

Season the foie gras with the salt and black pepper. Heat a large, non-stick skillet over high heat and arrange the foie gras in the skillet so they do not touch. Cook 45 seconds. Carefully turn each piece over and cook for 1-2 minutes. Turn off the heat.
Place the brioche in the oven to toast.

To serve, place one piece of the brioche toast on each serving plate, top with one piece of the cooked foie gras. Top each piece of foie gras with 2 tsp of the fig relish. Drizzle the plate with the port wine glaze and serve immediately. Yield: 8 servings.


Fig Relish

1 Tbl butter
2 Tbl minced shallots
1 1/2 cups Figs from fig preserves, small dice
2 Tbl brown sugar
2 Tbl sherry vinegar
2 Tbl minced celery
2 Tbl small diced red peppers
1/2 tsp fresh thyme leave, chopped
salt and pepper to taste

Melt the butter over low heat in a small sauce pot. Cook the shallots for 3 minutes. Add in the diced figs and brown sugar. Cook 5-6 minutes, stirring often to prevent sticking and burning. Add in the sherry vinegar, celery and red bell peppers and lower the heat. Cook for 10 minutes, stirring often. Add thyme, salt and black pepper and remove from heat. Best if made a day or two in advance. When ready to use, warm it slowly in a small sauté pan over a low heat. Yield: 1 1/2 cups

Port Wine Glaze

1 cup chicken stock
1 Tbl brown sugar
1 cup port wine
2 tsp balsamic vinegar

Place all ingredients in a small sauce pot. Simmer and reduce until mixture forms a thick syrup. Yield: One quarter cup

Give Me Some Skin Big Ganny


During the first 20 years of my life I never encountered a boneless, skinless chicken breast.

When I was a child, all chicken came under cellophane with bone and skin attached. The drumstick, the breast, the thigh, and even the wing, all had skin and bones. That’s the way God intended chicken to be sold and fried. Read it, it’s in the Bible somewhere. I think in one of those obscure Old Testament chapters like Amos or Obadiah.

True story: The first time I ever saw a boneless skinless chicken offering, I was at a restaurant on a date. The girl I was with asked, "How do they walk around without any bones, and don't they get cold without any skin?" For the record, she wasn't