Category: Food and Cooking

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Cat Cora Serves It Up

During a segment of “Iron Chef”, when one critic told Cat Cora that he didn’t care for her dish, she unhesitatingly asked, “Then why did you eat it all?”

Cat doesn’t pull any punches. Why she invoked Barbara Gordon’s 1979 memoir in this 2015 biography is perplexing; Cora has her own story, which she tells simply and honestly, the story of an orphan from Greenville who grew up in a loving, understanding home in Jackson where food took center stage and become a groundbreaking culinary superstar. Such a Horatio Alger-esque narrative often provides occasion for self-indulgent whining, but we make with it because Cat is smart, funny, and resilient. She  rolls with setbacks, admits mistakes, and does what she needs to move on.

The details of her culinary education and career as well as behind-the-scenes at “Iron Chef” provide a lot of interest for foodies as well as fans, who will also enjoy reading her honest–sometimes painfully so–account of her own personal journey. In a work of such candor, I expected details that perhaps only I would miss, like what’s the  dyke bar near the New Capitol. I particularly enjoyed reading about Jackson’s wonderful Greek community.

Mississippians, Cat is our daughter, our sister, let us embrace and celebrate her. But no matter where you’re from, you’ll like this fun, informative read.

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Tamale Pie

Tamale pie is made by all kinds of people for all kinds of occasions. The bones of controversy in this dish (and I assure you that there will always be an absolute skeleton in any given bowl, plate, or skewer of anything) involve the use of cheese in the bread and beans in the chili. Me, I bake plain cornbread batter over a pan of bubbling mild chili with beans, put it in a 425 oven until browned, and call it tamale pie. I also call it wonderful.

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Pepper Lime Pork Chops

Trim fat from bone-in center cut chops, brush with (in this order) lime juice, corn oil, and freshly-ground black pepper. Marinate for about an hour, then broil or grill until well seared. Do not overcook. Serve with black beans and rice.

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Twice-Baked Sweet Potatoes with Feta

Coat potatoes with vegetable oil and placie in a very hot oven for about an hour; bake an extra potato so you’ll have enough to over-stuff. Cool potatoes, slit and scoop out the pulp, mix with butter and brown sugar, honey, or molasses–my favorite–to taste, and about a tablespoon each of feta and chopped nuts per potato depending on the size of the spuds. Stuff skins with mix, top with more feta, and bake until browned. Sprinkle with pecans before serving.

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Poke Salad

In April, 2000, the Allen Canning Company of Siloam Springs, Arkansas processed its last batch of “poke sallet” greens. John Williams, the canning supervisor at Allen, said, “The decision to stop processing poke was because we couldn’t finding people interested in picking poke and bringing it to us.” Poke processing was never a significant item in their mult-imillion-dollar enterprise, but Williams mentioned that one of the best markets for canned poke was southern  California due to the Oakies.

Euell Gibbons lauds poke as “probably the best-known and most widely-used wild vegetable in America.” In Stalking the Wild Asparagus, Gibbons writes that Native Americans and early explorers were unstinting in their praise of this “succulent potherb.”

“They carried seeds when they went back home and poke soon became a popular cultivated garden vegetable in southern Europe and North Africa, a position it still maintains. In America it is still a favorite green vegetable with many country people and the tender young sprouts, gathered from wild plants, often appear in vegetable markets, especially in the South.” In the lean years before World War II, poke salad–like ramps–was one of the first edible wild herbs to appear in the spring, lending welcome addition to a winter’s sustenance diet of dried beans, cornbread, and salt pork .

The only drawback to poke salad is that it’s poisonous. The mature parts of the plant and the roots contain significant amounts of a violent but slow-acting emetic, phytolaccatoxin. Having said that, you’re probably wondering why in the hell anyone would even consider eating it, but prepared properly, poke salad is safe and delicious. Harvest only the youngest, tenderest sprouts of poke, no more than a foot or so. Wash, stem, and trim. Add to a pot of water, bring to a boil, drain, rinse, return to pot with water, and bring to simmer with oil, a slit hot pepper pod, and a big pinch of sugar. Drain and use much as you would spinach. Euell has a poke salad dip in his book. I like it with scrambled eggs and onion, and it’s wonderful in an omelette.

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Reviving Salmagundi

Claiborne and All Who Sailed in him (honestly, I can’t count how often I’ve wanted to kick that pontifical old queen under the table) declared, “There is something about the word ‘salmagundi’ that has an unmistakable appeal for savants with a leaning toward gourmandism.” I have no ambition of being a savant, much less one learning towards gourmandism. Like many others, I simply find salmagundi—like pettifoggery, kittywampus, or hullabaloo—a word I want to pick off the page, cuddle, and tease with a string.

The dish is just as playful, actually not so much a dish as it is a presentation like an antipasto or a smorgasbord, a selection of cold vegetables, pickles, meats, and fruit mounded on a tray. By precedent, you want cold poached chicken atop salad greens ringed with pickles, cooked eggs, raw or blanched vegetables, citrus, nuts, sausages, and cold fish—anchovies are a classic addition, but I like smoked salmon, too. Pretty much anything goes with the notable exception of cheese, which isn’t included in any reliable recipe.

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On Ham Salad

People just don’t make ham salad like they used to. At one time, you’d see it on just about any occasional buffet table, be it wedding, anniversary, or funeral, but nowadays it’s all salsa and hummus. Maybe it’s because of that room-temperature mayonnaise phobia that keeps tuna or chicken salad at bay, or simply a drift away from meats in general. Still and all, ham salad is a beautiful option for holiday left-overs, and it’s a good nosh (sorry) whenever. Three ingredients are essential: a binding agent—it doesn’t have to be mayo; cream cheese or yogurt will do, too—finely chopped lean ham, and a relish. Me, I like a fine consistency with horseradish, mustard and grated onion, but, as Rombauer and Co. say, ham salad, “should be a matter of inspiration”. Here’s an easy one: For a pound of finely-chopped ham, add about a quarter  cup mayo, two tablespoons each of sweet relish and minced onions. Mix well with a tablespoon each of black pepper and dry mustard. Chill for at least an hour.

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A Divine Dressing

Why don’t today’s chefs create dishes in honor of performing artists like those who gave us Melba toast and turkey Tetrazzini? Where’s the Bowie sundae, the Madonna cupcake or the Sia souffle? The need, as I see it, isn’t so much for the dishes, which are admittedly key components, but for the stories they may tell.

In 1923, George Arliss took the stage as the Rajah of Rukh in The Green Goddess. Arliss was at the height of his career. He went on to repeat his performance in the film version of the play and received an Academy Award nomination for the role, ironically losing to himself that same year (1930) when he played British prime minister Benjamin Disraeli in the eponymous film.

While in San Francisco, Arliss stayed at The Palace Hotel, and for a banquet in Arliss’s honor, the executive chef of the hotel, Philippe Roemer, himself a celebrity, created an original salad dressing with an assortment of finely chopped green herbs to suggest the name of the play. The dressing is a signature recipe in the hotel’s Garden Court Restaurant, most often served with the Dungeness Crab Salad.

The classic Green Goddess recipe usually includes anchovies, mayonnaise, vinegar, green onion, garlic, parsley, tarragon and chives in some form or quantity. Some cooks add sour cream or yogurt, and a popular contemporary version includes avocado (wouldn’t it just?).

1 cup parsley leaves
1 cup packed spinach leaves, stemmed
½ cup tarragon vinegar
1/2 cup mayonnaise/sour cream
1 garlic clove, roughly chopped
3 anchovy fillets
¼ cup vegetable oil

Combine to preferred texture in a food processor. Chill well before serving on fresh greens and vegetables.

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Jezebel Sauce

Epynomic recipes tend to have documented pedigrees; we can trace bananas Foster, melba toast, and chicken tetrazzini to a particular person, chef, and ofttimes a restaurant as well, but Jezebel sauce is an orphan. We just don’t know where it came from. Jezebel sauce is most often served with ham or other smoked meats or poured over cream cheese for a cocktail dip with crackers. This Jackson, Mississippi recipe is from the splendid Southern Hospitality Cookbook by Winifred Greene Cheney, who claims, “Some of this sauce would have made Ahab’s wife a better woman.”

Jezebel Sauce

1 (16-ounce) jar of pineapple preserves, 1 (12-ounce) jar apple jelly, 6 ounces prepared mustard (I use a Creole brown), 1 (5-ounce) jar horseradish, salt and freshly ground pepper to taste. You can add Coleman’s Mustard for added kick. Blend all ingredients well with a fork or whip. This sauce keeps weeks refrigerated.

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Muffaletta Relish

Drain and finely chop a cup of giardiniera; combine with a half-cup each of minced/diced pimento-stuffed green and pitted black olives. Add a quarter cup each chopped white onion, minced celery, and chopped parsley/green onions. Mix well. In a separate bowl mix vigorously a half cup of olive oil, with three finely minced  toes of garlic and a half cup of mild vinegar. (Don’t use use apple cider; it totally clashes with the vibe.) Add two tablespoons each of Italian seasoning, minced capers, and a heaping tablespoon of coarsely-ground black pepper. Pour this mix over the olives and giardiniera mix and blend well. Cool and rest for at least an hour. Stir well before use. This will keep for about two weeks in the fridge.