Kitchen Inventions

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I’ve given Paula Deen the tiiiiiiniest bit of a hard time in the past for her frequent use of packaged ingredients.  Relying on canned soup and boxed rice, I think, is usually an exercise in assembling rather than cooking.  However, there are plenty of recipes in The Lady and Sons Savannah Country Cookbook that call for fresh produce and a minimum of what Michael Pollan would call “food products” (which are opposed, he argues, to “real” food).  To give Paula a fair shake, I decided to prepare her recipe for a Pattypan Summer Squash Casserole.

Pattypan squash look like pretty white saucers with ruffled edges.  Though they’re a little harder to peel than their yellow cousins, the crooknecks, they have a similarly delicate texture.  I like to scoop out their inner seeds and pulp as I would when prepping a winter squash variety.

pattypansquash

Simmered and added to onions, garlic, parsley, and egg, the squash looked healthy and appetizing.  But I hesitated for a moment when Paula directed me to add sliced sandwich bread that had been soaked in ice water, then wrung dry.  Mushy in the saute pan, the mixture looked so awful that I didn’t take a single picture.  It was an ugly color between grey and tan, and I was beginning to lose faith in The Lady.

Fortunately for me and Paula, a funny thing happened when I emptied the mixture into a baking dish.  Topped with salt and sauteed bread crumbs  – Paula called for crushed Ritz crackers, but I had to gussy things up just a little bit! – the casserole didn’t look so bad.

readytobake

When the casserole emerged from the oven, it was golden brown and buttery.  With some trepidation, I tried a warm bite.  Of course, it was wonderful!  I’m not sure how it happened, but somehow my stove top ugly duckling became a tasty swan after half an hour in the oven.

squashcasserole

I suppose my surprise serves me right for doubting Paula Deen though, doesn’t it?  The woman is a force of nature, and I’m newly convinced of her talent.  This doesn’t mean I’ll pop open a can of cream of celery soup any time soon, but I will be returning to the her cookbook whenever I’m craving some buttery goodness.

When Bryce’s cousin Aaron came to visit us on his birthday, we wanted to cook a festive dinner to help him celebrate.  He’s a big fan of meat fired on the grill, so we decided to make Porterhouse steaks and skewered local shrimp out on the patio.  Served with cucumber-vidalia salad, brown-buttered corn with basil, and roasted market potatoes, the combination was exactly right for a birthday feast.  Rather than detail the preparation of so much food, I thought I’d share just a few pictures and observations from the fun night.

cucumberscucumbersalad

Because it keeps well for several hours, I mixed the cucumber-vidalia salad early in the afternoon.  Following Susan Spicer’s recommendation, I sprinkled the cucumbers with salt and allowed them to drain for a few minutes before mixing them with thinly sliced sweet onions, sour cream, dill, and champagne vinegar.  The salt draws excess water from the vegetables, keeping them from becoming soggy in the refrigerator.

I also cut the potatoes early, which you can do as long as you keep them soaked in water after you’ve sliced them.  This way, they don’t dry out and look chalky.  Some of the potatoes, which I got from Rita’s Roots, were so small that I opted to leave them whole; if the whole batch is relatively uniform, they cook more evenly.

potatoes

Once Aaron and his wife Katie arrived, Bryce heated our tiny patio grill and fixed everyone welcome margaritas (more on those, later!).  I kept busy inside by patting crushed peppercorns and kosher salt onto the steaks, and threading the shrimp – marinated in oil, garlic, and salt – onto soaked bamboo skewers.

steaks

I’d deveined and cut straight lines down the back of each shrimp earlier in the day, but I did leave the shells just hanging on for grilling.  While it makes them a bit messier to eat, the shells insulate the delicate meat from the grill’s fire.

shrimp

The best thing about the shrimp was the sauce I slid them into as soon as they’d finished cooking on the grill.  Inspired by New Orleans-style barbecue, it was rich with butter, chili pepper, black pepper, Worcestershire, and lemon juice.  You can find the recipe for it here.

shrimpsauce

Because of the prep work we’d done in the afternoon, dinner actually came together pretty quickly.  So quickly, in fact, that I just snapped this offhand shot of my plate before carrying it to the table.

plate

I don’t think it does our big meal justice, but hopefully you get the idea.

As much as I loved this meal, the dessert we made was really the star of the night’s show!  Because it was such a production, though, it gets its very own post.  Stay tuned for peachy goodness!

If you’ve been reading my website, you probably know that many of the dishes I prepare are not “quick and easy.”  It’s not that they’re so difficult to cook; it’s just that very few include pre-packaged ingredients of the Paula Deen* variety (canned soups, frozen pie crusts, etc.).  Sometimes they take chopping, others they take tying, and they always take time.

Today, though, I’m breaking the mold!  One of my favorite summer sides, roasted okra, can be made in under 10 minutes without any sodium-riffic shortcuts.  Here’s how:

Gather fresh okra**, some olive oil, salt and pepper, and your favorite dried herbs. Preheat the oven to a scorching 500 degrees (!). If you have large okra, cut off and discard the stem ends. In a bowl large enough to hold the okra, stir together the olive oil, salt and pepper, and whichever herbs you’re using. Toss the okra into the bowl and stir to coat it with the oil and seasoning. Transfer the okra to a shallow baking pan and roast until soft and blackened in a few spots, tossing occasionally.  Serve hot.

okraokra1okra2

I like using a small amount of cajun spice mixture to flavor the okra, but oregano or chevril also work well.  I wouldn’t use more delicate fresh herbs, though, because of the intense oven heat.  Oddly enough, the finished product – slightly salty, oily, and not too soft – reminds me of seasoned french fries.  Who would have thought?

*No offense, Paula!  I like her, and only know what’s in her recipes because I own her Lady and Sons cookbook (thanks Mom!).

** We got our beautiful okra from Rita’s Roots, a great stand at the Charleston Farmers’ Market.

…who needs a catchy title?

Frank Stitt week is nearing its end, but I still have a few posts up my sleeve before I stop paying homage to one of my favorite chefs.  Today’s is about another good ol’ Southern favorite, the humorously named “Hoppin’ John.”  Essentially a well-seasoned and garnished dish of rice and peas, it’s a tasty example of eating that’s both economical and flavorful.

Though Hoppin’ John is traditionally made with black-eyed peas, I couldn’t resist replacing them with more of the butter beans that, one ziploc bag at a time, are quickly taking over my refrigerator.  After simmering the beans with herbs, vegetables, and a dainty smoked ham hock, I used their pot liquor to cook long grain rice.

While the rice cooked, I chopped some beautiful tomatoes and scallions from the farmers’ market.  I know they’re mostly garnish – but for me, these colorful additions really make the dish.  Scattered atop the rice and butter beans, along with a few pieces of basil, they brighten an otherwise simple preparation.

Scallions+tomatoes

Some people like to serve the rice with more broth ladled into the bowl, but I left my first serving dry save several dashes of hot sauce.  Either way, Hoppin’ John makes for a fresh and filling summer lunch.

Hoppin' John

As much as I love the cornbread that I posted about here, it doesn’t make a terribly satisfying meal on its own.  It was a filling side for the field pea and okra soup, but we completely devoured that before we could polish off the skillet.  We also paired it with big plates of Hoppin’ John – more on that, later! –  but because that dish already contains rice, we only ate little bites of the bread with it.  How could I best enjoy the leftovers?

I settled, as I so often do, on adding an egg.  I love fried eggs on warm lentil salads, on burgers, and even with pasta, so topping the cornbread with one seemed like a no-fail plan.  Sandwiched, along with a slice of sharp cheddar, between warm layers of savory cornbread, the egg made for a slightly unconventional breakfast and a near-perfect solution.  Perfection, in case you’re wondering, would have entailed a thin slice or two of country ham!  Next time….

eggsandwich