Peas and Snaps
Jett’s Table
My Aunt Jett learned to cook from her mother, whose people settled a wilderness. Food was their only pleasure not subject to religion. They sustained themselves and their families on corn and pork with whatever else they could grow or kill. They planted and picked, cooked and baked, dried and canned, making the most of what they had season to season, year to year, generation to generation.
Jett always had something fixed for whatever company might drop in: stewed greens, limas, black-eyed peas, or snap beans, new or creamed potatoes, fried chicken, pork chops, or breaded steak. If it were summer, she’d have fresh sliced tomatoes, fried okra, or corn on the cob.She served her meals with sliced onion, cornbread or biscuits, and sawmill gravy with sweetened tea to drink; she seasoned with streak-o’-lean, salt, black pepper,, maybe a little cayenne, and sage.
Jet’s cooking was simple, but not coarse; it had a balance and symmetry all its own, dictated by long-ago voices set in concert with the seasons. Jett thanked God before we ate, and that, too is elemental of our sustenance.
Meatballs in Green Salsa
Mix pork and beef 1:1; ground pork can be hard to find, so I usually substitute a mild pork sausage. If you’re using plain pork, add salt, pepper, smoky paprika, and a hefty dose of granulated garlic. Moisten a cup of breadcrumbs with milk, and mix in a beaten egg; add this slurry to the meat mixture, and work with your fingers until thoroughly blended. Form into snooker balls, and poach in lightly salted water until firm. Place in a hot oven to brown. Remove, coat lightly with salsa, top with queso, and return to oven until cheese is lightly browned. Serve hot with more salsa, good beans, and hot corn tortillas.
Viennas
Vienna sausages—along with (it must be said) potted meat—rank high among the South’s signature noshes, both indispensable companions to the purple worms and Little Rebels in your tackle box.
Historically, a Vienna-style sausage (Wienerwurst) is a frankfurter-style mixture of meats sold in braided links, but in America it transmogrified into a canned sausage cut into two-inch lengths that appeared around 1900. Chicago-based Armour, Swift, and Libby, along with Hormel in Minnesota, soon dominated the market.. The first commercial meat processor in Mississippi, Bryan Packing Company of West Point, unlike northern companies, began canning sausages in oil, and these old-school Bryan “vy-ennas” are legendary.
Vienna consumption has declined since its heyday in the middle of the 20th century. Armour, which introduced the pop-top aluminum can, remains the industry sales leader. Viennas—like Spam—seeped into international cuisines through U.S. military bases. The sausages are used in Filipino pancits, and a popular Cuban dish consisting of Viennas cooked with yellow rice (arroz amarillo con salchichas) likely comes courtesy of Guantanamo Bay.
A Naked Quiche
At the old Bean Blossom in Oxford, we worked with a limited inventory and a short menu, but this was no ball-and-chain for our spontaneity. One morning we decided on quiches for lunch, and with no time to make crusts, we made beautiful naked quiches. These are called frittatas. Most frittatas are just fried potatoes and eggs, the most basic dish imaginable. It’s also heavy; a little goes a long way. I always add a grated hard cheese. This recipe is best made in a 9-in. skillet.
Peel and dice two waxy potatoes; you want about two cups. Parboil, drain, and pan fry in oil with a little minced garlic; you want potato chunks that are cooked through and a bit crusty. Beat six eggs quite well, season with salt, pepper, and herbs if you like, and add half to hot, well-oiled skillet. When eggs begin to bubble, sprinkle in the potatoes and grated hard cheese. Add the rest of the eggs and pop in a hot oven until browned.
Of Fish and Fists
Grabbling is the most unsophisticated form of angling; fly fishing seems downright effete in comparison. Forget fussing with those artsy little hand-tied flies, forget about the L.L. Bean creel, forget about the custom-made rod, just stick your hand down in a hole under the water and drag out a fish. It’s breathtakingly fundamental.
When grabbling, it goes unsaid that you’re fishing for catfish, which tend to hole up in hollow logs or under stumps in the spring. Unlike suicidal salmon that exhaust themselves in long-distance spawning, the sensible Southern catfish conducts a more sedate courtship by making a bed and putting out a red light.
In the old days, grabblers used to sink hollow logs in selected places before the fish begin spawning in April in order to lure the catfish into them, but nowadays most folks use man-made beds. The location of these beds is a guarded secret among serious grabblers who sink them in the fall and come back when the water has warmed up in the spring.
Grabbling might well be the ultimate expression of angler machismo as well. It takes true grit to stick your bare hand in a hole under water. After all, there’s no guarantee that what you’re going to grab is a catfish. We grow some mighty big snapping turtles in Mississippi that can easily nip off a finger or two if tempted to do so, and it takes little to tempt a snapper, especially when he’s holed up in a sunken hollow log or a catfish box with minnows on his mind. We also have a nasty variety of pit viper here called a cottonmouth moccasin. I’ve heard it rumored all my life that grabblers aren’t afraid of cottonmouths because these snakes aren’t supposed to be able to open their mouths under water, but bear in mind their scientific name, piscivorus, means “fish-eating.”
Fortunately for those of us who simply lack the bravado to haul protesting fish out of the water with our bare hands, there are easier ways to get catfish. Mississippi is, after all, the buckle of the Catfish Belt. We can get fresh or “fresh frozen” (love that term) catfish in your local grocery any time.
Elitists deride catfish but, to quote Twain, “The catfish is a good enough fish for anybody,” and I fall back on that high word. In the South, catfish, like almost any other sort of meat, is most often fried, and there’s nothing better than a platter of fried catfish and a litter of hush puppies. But however rewarding, frying catfish is just as messy and time-consuming as frying chicken. So what I’m going to give you here is a simple sauce recipe for baked or broiled catfish that takes it to another level. Beurre blanc is a classic emulsion, as are mayonnaise and Hollandaise, but “white butter” is far less tricky and far more stable. It’s a cold emulsion, like mayo, but it doesn’t involve an agglutination of proteins. Buerre blanc is simply butter whipped with wine and herbs.
Catfish with beurre blanc
One 8-oz. fillet of catfish per person. Score the fillets lightly, brush with a bit of (unsalted) butter; bake in a hot oven until done through. Beforehand, reduce 1/2 cup good white wine and two tablespoons lemon juice by about half. Add three tablespoons of very,very finely minced shallots, a dash of white pepper and a pinch of salt. Then gradually whip in 1/4 pound of unsalted butter over very low heat until thoroughly incorporated. Tarragon and dill (though I don’t recommend using them together) are most often used for flavor, and parsley is always appropriate. Slather sauce on fish and serve.
Crawfish Fritters with Red Remoulade
These boulettes are light, and note the corn starch, which makes them crispy. Some people add white rum (in wildly varying amounts) to the batter for crunch, but dear hearts, take it from a (former) 12-stepper, this is a waste of rum. The remoulade comes via Howard Mitcham, who claims he received it in the 1950s from Justin Galatoire, the nephew of Jean Galatoire, and we have no reason whatsoever to doubt that he did.
For the batter:
1 cup self-rising flour
1/4 cup corn starch
1 tablespoon melted butter or oil
1 egg beaten with 1/2 cup water
Salt and pepper
Minced scallions and red bell pepper (optional)
Mix dry ingredients, including scallions and pepper, add the egg/water mixture, and six ounces cooked crawfish tails. Stir with a fork until well blended but not smooth; you want it a little lumpy. Drop by spoonfuls into hot oil. When browned, move onto a cookie sheet with paper towels, and place in a warm (250) oven for at least 15 minutes before serving.
Red Remoulade:
1/2 cup Creole mustard
2 tablespoons vegetable or olive oil
2 tablespoons paprika
2 tablespoons white vinegar
2 tablespoons finely minced scallion or parsley
Hot sauce to taste (optional)
Horseradish (optional)
Black pepper and salt to taste
Mix well and refrigerate before serving.
How to Make a Tomato Sandwich
Here in the Mid-South, we make three popular summer sandwiches with raw vegetables.
One is the cucumber sandwich, served on pretty little trays aside ewers of lemonade, iced tea, or gin and tonics on tables topped with linen adorned with silver, eaten by ladies smelling of lavender sachet and confirmed bachelors in pastel seersucker suits. Diametrically opposite of this delicate denizen of elegant afternoon gatherings is the sweet onion sandwich, gnawed a upon with audible gusto over kitchen sinks and washed down with Miller or PBR by the likes of ATV enthusiasts and sports columnists.
Then we have the tomato sandwich. Egalitarian, comfortable in any company, this summer staple of Dixie is found on the table just about any time of the day. For me, a good home-grown tomato sandwich is how a summer afternoon on the front porch ought to taste. The essential components are bread, sliced tomatoes and mayonnaise. The bread soft wheat or white; for the savor of memory, Wonder Bread. The tomatoes should be the best your particular part of the world has to offer. The mayonnaise (Blue Plate) should be slathered on the tomatoes as well as the bread, ensuring even moistness. Season with salt and plenty of black pepper.
Adding bacon elevates the tomato sandwich from a mere concoction to poetry, but Joan Hess and I both agree that lettuce is totally superfluous and moreover annoying.
Chocolate Pudding
In a quart pot, stir together a half cup granulated sugar, 2 tablespoons cornstarch, and 3 ounces of good cocoa. To this add well whipped 3 egg yolks and a cup each whole milk and cream. Blend very well and bring to heat slowly, whisking continually until mixture begins to thicken. Take care not so scorch. When thick, blend in two pats of butter and a teaspoon of pure vanilla extract. While still warm, work the pudding through a strainer into a bowl. Refrigerate until cold. Whisk before spooning into serving containers.
Fruit Galette
Toss fresh berries, drupes, or pomes (in this case, peaches and cherries) with sugar and macerate overnight.
Mix well one and a quarter cup of plain flour, two tablespoons sugar, and a teaspoon of salt. Cut in a stick of cold butter until mixture is grainy, then add enough cold water and more flour as need to to make a stiff dough. Knead, form into a ball, and refrigerate for no less than an hour. Roll out to a 12” circle. (It doesn’t have to be perfect) and move onto a lightly oiled sheet pan.
Drain fruit and pour into the center of the dough, leaving a 2” edge. Fold the crust over the fruit, brush the edge with a mixture of melted butter mixed with a little dark brown sugar or molasses. Bake at 375 on a middle rack until crust is browned and fruit is bubbling. Cool, slice, and serve with crema.
