The Mac Attack


The holy grail of kid cuisine is macaroni and cheese.

When I wrote my second cookbook, Deep South Staples or How to Survive In A Southern Kitchen Without A Can of Cream of Mushroom Soup, I needed to include a macaroni and cheese recipe to complete the theme for updated home cooking. I had never eaten mac and cheese so I turned over the recipe development of that dish to my chief recipe tester and Purple Parrot Café chef, Linda Nance.

Linda created a great mac and cheese recipe for the book. I named it Linda’s Macaroni and Cheese. When testing the recipe, I ate mac and cheese for the first time. It was good, and I imagine much better than the boxed varieties on local grocery store shelves. Unfortunately, there was a problem.

Deep South Staples, before it was purchased by Hyperion, was a self-published book. All of the work on the book, the recipe testing, the photographic research, the layout and design, the recipe data entry, and proofreading was done in house. That’s where today’s story begins.

There was a slight miscue between the person who helped me do the recipe data entry and the four people (one of which was me) who proofread the manuscript, slight in scope, but monumental in the life of the finished book. In Linda’s Macaroni and Cheese recipe there was a typographical error.

The recipe calls for one 12-ounce can of evaporated milk. The data entry person accidentally entered “1 12-ounce can Condensed Milk.” Yes, that milk. The canned milk normally known as sweetened condensed milk.

Folks, I don’t need to tell you the difference between evaporated milk and sweetened condensed milk, but trust me when I tell you that if you ever prepare macaroni and cheese using sweetened condensed milk instead of evaporated milk, you will end up with one of the worst tasting dishes you have ever eaten.

Trust me, too, when I tell you that if someone spends a lot of time measuring, preparing, and cooking mac and cheese with sweetened milk they will not be happy. Actually they will be mad enough to call the cookbook’s author on the telephone and write him nasty emails calling him all sorts of names and wishing harm on the author, his forbearers, and all of his heirs.

This would not have been a problem had I published the recipe in the newspaper and was able to print a correction in a subsequent column. Unfortunately, there were 10,000 copies of the book printed, and within a matter of weeks, all of them were in people’s homes, or more specifically, in their kitchens. Nothing feels as “permanent” as having one’s words in a published book.

A correction was made in subsequent editions, and the problem soon went away, or so I thought.

Last spring, my wife and I hosted a dinner for one of our church groups. The adults were bringing their young children to our home, and while the grown ups were meeting over dinner in one room, the children would be having dinner and playing in another room.

Don’t get ahead of me, here.

I asked the chefs in my restaurant to prepare a few recipes for both groups. Unfortunately, the mac and cheese from Deep South Staples was one of them. Even more unfortunate, the copy of the book being used in the restaurant was an uncorrected first edition.

To compound matters, the adults had spent a lot of time giving their kids the hard-sell and getting them excited about “eating at a real chef’s house,” expectations were high, the outcome was terrifying.

In the course of my 28-year restaurant career, I have never had food thrown at me, especially one of my recipes, but if it ever were to happen that would have been the night. Halfway through dinner I walked through the breakfast room to check on the kids, they were in full culinary revolt. They looked at me with hate, disdain, and disappointment all at once.

Do you remember the food fight scene in the movie Animal House? We were that close. Only after bribing them with extra ice cream did they settle down.

Lessons learned: Never trust a typist, always load up on ice cream when children are coming over, and never— I repeat never— mess with a kid’s favorite food.



Linda’s Macaroni and Cheese

1 tsp Bacon grease (or canola oil)
1 cup Onion, minced
2 cups Half and half
1-12 oz can Evaporated milk
1 /3 cup Butter
1 /2 cup Flour
2 tsp Salt
1 tsp White pepper
12 oz Velveeta cut into large chunks
8 oz Sharp cheddar cheese, shredded
1 1 /2 tsp Worcestershire sauce
1 pound Elbow macaroni

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

Heat the bacon grease in a two-quart saucepot over low heat. Cook onion five to six minutes then add half and half and evaporated milk into saucepot. Bring to a simmer. In a separate skillet, melt butter and stir in flour to make a roux. Cook until the roux becomes light blond and add to milk mixture. Cook for six to seven minutes on low, stirring constantly. Remove from heat and fold in Velveeta, cheddar cheese, pepper and salt. Stir until cheeses are melted.

While you are preparing the sauce bring six quarts of water to a boil. Add one tablespoon salt and cook macaroni to just tender. Drain and fold macaroni into cheese mixture. Place in a two-quart baking dish and bake for 25 minutes. Yield: 5-8 portions

Stable Staples


Every home has a stable staple.

A stable staple is an item that is almost, if not always, in an individual’s home kitchen. It varies from home to home and is usually located in an heirloom cookie jar, or a favored Pyrex dish, tucked away on a special shelf in the pantry, or highlighted front and center in the refrigerator.

It is the singular food item that is ever-present in that home. It’s usually kept in the same place and it is the one item that is served when someone visits the home and the item that will be there when you visit some else’s home.

Your best friends always know where the stable staple is kept and they feel free to help themselves when they visit.

Sometimes the stable staple is a snack, every now and then a cake or pie, it can be store-bought or homemade. In a few families the item changes with the holidays, in others the stable staple is ever-changing regardless of the season or occasion.

As a kid I committed to memory all of my friends stable staples. When playing outside in the Mississippi summer heat it was important to know which friends house to visit to eat a certain snack.

One friend always had chips and picante sauce; another had off-brand generic cookies that he would personally dole out— one to each friend— while his mouth was crammed full with a dozen of the cookies. In between those two lived a friend whose parents owned several grocery stores. They didn’t have a lone stable staple, but a treasure trove of snacks, drinks, and frozen treats that we raided on a daily basis. Their pantry was kid-snack heaven.

My mom always had oatmeal cookies and Hawaiian Punch in her house. They were her stable staples.

Today, my wife’s stable staple is a pan of warm, freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. My kids love them and their friends annihilate them as soon as they are removed from the oven.

My paternal grandmother almost always had a pound cake under a glass dome. Occasionally she would have an Angel Food Cake, but most times it was a pound cake. Kids don’t get too excited about pound cake. I like it. It’s good. It’s better than tea cakes or scones. But it’s not an iced cake, pie, or cobbler. It’s more of a little-old-lady tea-party stable staple than a snack or treat.

My paternal grandmother excelled when it came to entertaining and serving a large formal lunch or dinner, but when it came to goodies in the pantry, we were left with pound cake topped with strawberries and Cool Whip.

My maternal grandmother always had a Tupperware container of Fudge Cake squares. She was known for two recipes: Pancakes and Fudge Cake. I have written at great length about her pancakes and have actually formed a food products company in which her pancake recipe is sold in mix form all across the country. Her stable staple, though, was Fudge Cake.

My grandmother’s Fudge Cake was neither fudge nor cake, though it was more closely related to cake than fudge. The recipe was one that probably came from her childhood home of Nashville and followed her to Danville, Ky., Macon and Atlanta, Ga., the Upper East Side of Manhattan, and finally, my hometown of Hattiesburg, Miss.

Fudge Cake squares are more like brownies than cake, but fudgier than a normal brownie. I loved the recipe as a kid and I love eating fudge cake squares, today. Homemade fudge cake might be the coup de grace of stable staples.

Nowadays my stable staple is oatmeal. Not oatmeal cookies— oatmeal— the breakfast gruel that is eaten with a spoon. It’s the item that is always in my pantry, not fudge cake, or pound cake, or even Angel Food Cake— oatmeal. Sometimes middle age and responsibility stinks.



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.

Tailgating During Fall in Mississippi


It’s mid September in Mississippi. Is it fall yet?

Yesterday I was watching the Weather Channel and the announcer talked about “fall” weather in the Northeast. Fall in September? You’ve got to be kidding. Not down here.

We know the word “fall,” but we never experience the actual season until mid to late October, and then only in short spurts of crisp weather. Our brief hints of Fall are akin to evening weather in Southern California on a year-round basis.

In the Northeast and Midwest football fans are tailgating on Saturday afternoons with highs in the mid to upper 60s. In Mississippi we’re tailgating in the 90s. The temperature dictates the food.

Tailgating in the South is much different than tailgating in the Northeast. In the Northeast and Midwest the weather forecasts often include the word “crisp.” Down here we trade “crisp” for “muggy.” We do, however, get small hints of “crisp” beginning in October.

The first hint of cool in the Southern autumn is always deceptive. I fall (pun intended) for it every time. On that first cool morning I’ll walk outside, the air is cool— not crisp— cool. The pine straw is starting to turn brown, the Indian Summer images from the national magazines are floating around in the back of my head, and I say to myself, “Ahhhh, fall has arrived to Mississippi.” Inevitably, the next day will be 82 degrees and humid.

The covers of next month’s national food magazines will have images of fall-themed cornucopias highlighted with gold, brown, and orange leaves, freaky looking squash, cranberries, and 10 varieties pumpkin. All while we’re still picking summer vegetables in our gardens.

Down here the heat affects our menu choices. We’re still eating hot weather food. During Southern tailgates, we look for “cool” and easy foods to match the temperatures that we endure this time of the year.

My favorite tailgating recipe is for Silverqueen Corn and Shrimp Dip. I created the recipe for my book, Southern Seasons. It’s the perfect tailgating food. It’s served cold and tastes great in the Mississippi fall, it can be taken to the ball game in a small ice chest, it’s just spicy enough to make one reach for an additional beverage, and— most importantly— it tastes great.

Fall in the South means tailgating and football. We’d like it if it was a little cooler, but we’d rather take the heat than be forced to eat bland, Northern pumpkin and mutant squash.



Silver Queen Corn and Shrimp Dip

2 quarts water
1 Tbl crab boil
2 Tbl kosher salt
3/4 pound small shrimp, peeled

1/2 cup sour cream
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1/4 cup red onion, minced
1/2 cup green onion, minced
1 Tbl fresh jalepeno, minced
1 Tbl hot sauce
1 Tbl fresh lime juice
1/8 tsp cayenne pepper
1/4 tsp ground cumin
1/3 cup fresh cilantro, chopped
1 1/2 Roasted Silverqueen corn, cut from the cob* (3 ears), or canned corn, drained
1 tsp salt

Bring the water, crab boil and salt to a boil over high heat. Add the shrimp to the boiling water and reduce the heat slightly/ Simmer the shrimp for 6-8 minutes. Remove from the heat and drain the shrimp. Place the cooked shrimp in the refrigerator and cool completely. Roughly chop the cooled shrimp. Combine shrimp and the remaining ingredients in a large mixing bowl and mix well. Refrigerate for 1-2 hours before serving. Serve with your favorite chips for dipping.

Yield:
6-8 servings

*To roast the corn: Preheat oven to 375. Wrap each ear individually in aluminum foil and place them on a baking sheet. Cook for 15 minutes, turn each piece of corn over and bake for 15 more minutes. Remove from the oven and cool for 30 minutes. Remove the foil, husks and silk and using a sharp knife, cut the kernels from the corn, being careful not to cut down too deeply into the cob. Allow corn to cool completely before preparing the dip.

Tailgating During Fall in Mississippi


It’s mid September in Mississippi. Is it fall yet?

Yesterday I was watching the Weather Channel and the announcer talked about “fall” weather in the Northeast. Fall in September? You’ve got to be kidding. Not down here.

We know the word “fall,” but we never experience the actual season until mid to late October, and then only in short spurts of crisp weather. Our brief hints of Fall are akin to evening weather in Southern California on a year-round basis.

In the Northeast and Midwest football fans are tailgating on Saturday afternoons with highs in the mid to upper 60s. In Mississippi we’re tailgating in the 90s. The temperature dictates the food.

Tailgating in the South is much different than tailgating in the Northeast. In the Northeast and Midwest the weather forecasts often include the word “crisp.” Down here we trade “crisp” for “muggy.” We do, however, get small hints of “crisp” beginning in October.

The first hint of cool in the Southern autumn is always deceptive. I fall (pun intended) for it every time. On that first cool morning I’ll walk outside, the air is cool— not crisp— cool. The pine straw is starting to turn brown, the Indian Summer images from the national magazines are floating around in the back of my head, and I say to myself, “Ahhhh, fall has arrived to Mississippi.” Inevitably, the next day will be 82 degrees and humid.

The covers of next month’s national food magazines will have images of fall-themed cornucopias highlighted with gold, brown, and orange leaves, freaky looking squash, cranberries, and 10 varieties pumpkin. All while we’re still picking summer vegetables in our gardens.

Down here the heat affects our menu choices. We’re still eating hot weather food. During Southern tailgates, we look for “cool” and easy foods to match the temperatures that we endure this time of the year.

My favorite tailgating recipe is for Silverqueen Corn and Shrimp Dip. I created the recipe for my book, Southern Seasons. It’s the perfect tailgating food. It’s served cold and tastes great in the Mississippi fall, it can be taken to the ball game in a small ice chest, it’s just spicy enough to make one reach for an additional beverage, and— most importantly— it tastes great.

Fall in the South means tailgating and football. We’d like it if it was a little cooler, but we’d rather take the heat than be forced to eat bland, Northern pumpkin and mutant squash.



Silver Queen Corn and Shrimp Dip

2 quarts water
1 Tbl crab boil
2 Tbl kosher salt
3/4 pound small shrimp, peeled

1/2 cup sour cream
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1/4 cup red onion, minced
1/2 cup green onion, minced
1 Tbl fresh jalepeno, minced
1 Tbl hot sauce
1 Tbl fresh lime juice
1/8 tsp cayenne pepper
1/4 tsp ground cumin
1/3 cup fresh cilantro, chopped
1 1/2 Roasted Silverqueen corn, cut from the cob* (3 ears), or canned corn, drained
1 tsp salt

Bring the water, crab boil and salt to a boil over high heat. Add the shrimp to the boiling water and reduce the heat slightly/ Simmer the shrimp for 6-8 minutes. Remove from the heat and drain the shrimp. Place the cooked shrimp in the refrigerator and cool completely. Roughly chop the cooled shrimp. Combine shrimp and the remaining ingredients in a large mixing bowl and mix well. Refrigerate for 1-2 hours before serving. Serve with your favorite chips for dipping.

Yield:
6-8 servings

*To roast the corn: Preheat oven to 375. Wrap each ear individually in aluminum foil and place them on a baking sheet. Cook for 15 minutes, turn each piece of corn over and bake for 15 more minutes. Remove from the oven and cool for 30 minutes. Remove the foil, husks and silk and using a sharp knife, cut the kernels from the corn, being careful not to cut down too deeply into the cob. Allow corn to cool completely before preparing the dip.

The Denomination of Punch

I am a Methodist because my grandfather owned a pair of shoes.

My great-grandmother was a Baptist. My great-grandfather was a Methodist. My grandfather was the oldest of seven boys. His family was poor and could only afford Sunday shoes for the two oldest boys. The five younger boys stayed barefoot in the warmer months.

In Brooksville, Miss., in the early 1900s, the Methodist church was located a mile from their home. The two oldest boys walked to church with their father. The five youngest boys attended the Baptist church— which was located a few houses away and an easy walk on the grass— with their mother.

A tattered pair of Sunday shoes has provided me with a lifetime of covered-dish suppers.

It’s sometimes hard to pick a Methodist out of the crowd. A Muslim might have a prayer rug, a Jewish man might wear a Star of David, and the Catholics have the rosary. We Methodists can’t walk around with a casserole dish hanging from our necks.

My friend, Bill explains the denominations this way: The Baptists pick you up out of the gutter, the Methodists clothe and feed you, the Presbyterians educate you, and the Episcopalians introduce you to all of the right people, which sends you back into the gutter so the Baptists can pick you up again.

I know a better way to define the protestant denominations— through their punch. Not a boxing punch, mind you, but their ladle-it-out-of-your-grandmother’s-cut-glass-bowl, fruit-juice-and-ginger-ale-with-a-floating-ice-ring-in-the-middle church punch.

Three cookbooks ago, I released Deep South Parties. In the chapter that included various celebratory beverages, I published several actual punch recipes from local small town church cookbooks. The procedural instructions for the various church punches were basically the same among the denominations. The yields were similar as each recipe made enough punch for about 30 thirsty church goers. Where the rubber meets the road, or better still, where the ring mold meets the fruit juice, is in the ingredients.

The ingredients of the church-punch recipes I found are a telling factor. When I was a boy, a lady named Mrs. Lampkin was the hostess at my church. Here is the recipe for her punch: one 48-oz can pineapple juice, one three-ounce package instant lime gelatin, two cups sugar, one cup lemon juice, one small bottle of almond extract. Simple, easy, green.

Methodist punch follows the liturgical calendar. During Advent, the liturgical color is purple, so we substitute grape Jell-O. During Christmastide, when the liturgical color is gold, we use pineapple.

Here is the recipe for a punch recipe found in a Baptist cookbook in my hometown: two cups cranberry juice, two cups apple cider, one cup pineapple juice, one cup orange juice, 1/2 cup lemon juice, two cups ginger ale. We know it well, and have drunk it often at Baptist weddings. Some might have even snuck into the back room at Baptist weddings and added something a little stronger.

Speaking of stronger, the Catholic punch recipe I found is made using 1/2 gallon burgundy wine, one pint gin, two quarts of ginger ale, 1/2 cup sugar, and 1/4 cup lemon juice. With my Catholic friends, it’s all about the wine.

My uncle is an Episcopal priest in the Northern Neck of Virginia. This is an actual recipe for church punch that I pulled from of one of his church’s cookbooks: one fifth bourbon (100 proof), one fifth brandy, one fifth sherry, one fifth sparkling red wine, juice of 12 lemons, two cups sugar, one fifth soda water, which is proof that one will always need a designated driver when attending a Whiskeypalian wedding.

My grandfather owned a pair of Sunday shoes, and that’s why I’m forever destined to drink green punch.


Purple Parrot Chocolate Martini

1 /2 oz. Absolut
1 /2 oz. Kahlua
1 /4 oz. Godiva Dark Chocolate Liqueur
1 /4 oz. Godiva White Chocolate Liqueur
1 Tbl Half and Half

In a cocktail shaker, add ice. Add liquor and liqueurs in order. Shake with ice and fine strain into a chilled martini glass.

Yield: 1 martini

Hurricane Food


As I sit and write this column, I am watching the television coverage of Hurricane Gustav as it makes landfall a few hundred miles west of my breakfast room.

My family hunkered down several days in advance this time, which beats the last minute scramble we endured before Hurricane Katrina.

This morning I am ice rich. I am surrounded by ice chests, bottled water, and hurricane food.

Ice is the key.

Before Katrina, I encouraged my managers and friends to load up on ice from one of the three, large ice machines located at our restaurant. They seemed skeptical, but filled their ice chests nonetheless. I was remembering the days after Hurricane Camille when, as an eight-year old, I waited in line with my mother at the local ice house every afternoon for two weeks until electricity was restored.

Once my friends and managers loaded up on pre-Katrina ice, I filled a large ice chest with the cubes left at the bottom of the restaurant’s bin. After securing my business, I lifted the ice chest into the back of my truck and headed home to ride out the storm with my family.

Three blocks from the restaurant, as I was pulling through an intersection, I heard a loud crash. I looked into my rear-view mirror and watched, as the last available ice in Hattiesburg, Mississippi spilled all over the hot August asphalt. I had forgotten to close the tailgate on my truck and the ice chest flew out the back as I drove through the intersection.

This morning I am ice rich. I am surrounded by ice chests, bottled water, and hurricane food.

My first memory of Hurricane food was as an eight-year old in the aftermath of Camille. My mother, brother and I cooked over Sterno leftover from my brother's Boy Scout days. Our neighborhood also banded together and gathered at the house of a man who had a natural-gas grill.

In 1969, at the exact time concert goers were listening to Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and The Who make rock-and-roll history at the Woodstock concert in upstate New York, we were eating beanie weenies in the sweltering heat of my back yard. From what I've seen in the Woodstock movie, the conditions were similar.

Kids don't mind adverse conditions. I never remember complaining about the heat in the days after Camille. To me, it was like camping out in the backyard.

As a forty-something I was about as hot as I've ever been in the still, quiet days following Katrina. Several months after Katrina blew through town, my son asked my wife, "Momma, when do we get to sleep in the den and eat ham sandwiches again?

No power, no water, no ice, no trees, and my son remembers ham sandwiches. I remember Sterno. Most attendees at Woodstock probably don’t remember anything.

This morning I am ice rich. I am surrounded by ice chests, bottled water, and hurricane food. It appears that we dodged Mother Nature's 120-mph bullet. Let's all pray that it will be many years before we again have to worry about Sterno, ice, and hurricane food.



Ham, Cheese, and Poppy Seed Freezer Sandwiches

1 stick Butter, melted
3 Tbl Prepared Horseradish
3 Tbl Dijon Mustard
2 Tbl Poppy Seeds
1 lb Ham, thinly sliced
8 slices Swiss cheese
8 Hamburger Buns

Combine butter, horseradish, mustard and poppy seeds. Mix thoroughly. Open hamburger buns and brush both sides of the inside with the poppy seed dressing. Place two ounces of ham and one slice of cheese on bottom part of bun. Repeat with the remainder of the buns. Close the tops of the buns and brush more of the poppy seed dressing on the outside tops and bottoms of buns. Tightly wrap each sandwich in aluminum foil and freeze.

To cook, preheat oven to 400-degrees. Place sandwich, still tightly wrapped in foil, directly on the center rack for approximately 30-45 minutes until center is hot and cheese is melted. Yield: eight sandwiches.