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Egg foo young

In my (unpublished) book, weekends are occasions for egg dishes–quiches, omelets, Benedicts and their ilk–which in general are light, versatile, and easily prepared. This old fusion dish fits the bill.

For each serving, beat two large eggs, pour into a pool of hot oil and–working quickly with a fork–add ingredients, and pull the eggs apart as they cook. I like shrimp and bean sprouts, but others like ham, chicken, cabbage, and mushrooms. Scallions seem requisite, and garlic chives are a nice touch.

When eggs are firm, flip, and brown. Serve with a light beef gravy.

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‘Faulkner: The Past Is Never Dead”: A Review

With this first feature-length documentary on William Faulkner, Michael Modak-Truran sets a very high bar indeed. This triumphant film is a rich, detailed portrait framed by a penetrating, entertaining narrative, a work that radiates talent and professionalism.

“Faulkner: The Past Is Never Dead” is a many-paned portal for the discovery of Faulkner the man, his life and times, and his art. Modak-Truran calls his method a “hybrid documentary approach,” employing traditional interviews, archival media, animated sequences, and re-enacted scenes; the resulting quasi-stream-of-consciousness mélange seems intensely reflective of Faulkner’s own technique.

A select group of scholars examine themes such as race and feminism, consider Faulkner’s novels both in relationship to each other and their sequence in Faulkner’s career, and offer insights into how his characters and narratives relate to the man and his milieu. Archival photos, video, and documents provide buoyancy.

What Modak-Truran calls the “narrative arc” of the film is a series of beautifully re-enacted scenes derived from various sources, and this too reflects Faulkner’s own approach to narratives in works such as As I Lay Dying, The Sound and the Fury, and Absalom, Absalom!

“Faulkner: The Past Is Never Dead” establishes Modak-Truran as a director with a sure sense for the medium and a firm grasp on his material. The film also confirms Faulkner’s relevance and offers assurance that the power of his prose and insights into the human condition will indeed endure.

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Sleepy Corner

Sam, the Garbager, had carpet,
And some scraps of office jot,
Optomacy stooped to throw him,
As he passed from lot to lot,

And with these he decked his cabin
In a rather modern style;
But himself remained old-fashioned
Like–simple and true the while.

And the milk of human kindness
Seemed to bubble from his heart,
As he rolled about the city
In his two-wheeled garbage cart.

S.A. Beadle,
Lyrics of the Under-World (1912),
photo by R. H. Beadle

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Egg in a Basket

Use sturdy bread and a sharp cutter. Lightly brown bread on both sides in a hot oiled pan, add a pat of butter in the center, and crack an egg into it. If you’re feeding several people, you can cook these on a sheet pan in a hot oven. Keep the seasonings simple: salt and black pepper. Toast the hole, top with jam, and serve as a side.

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Candied Sweet Potatoes

This recipe comes from April McGreger, a fellow native of Calhoun County, Mississippi, and author of Sweet Potatoes, the tenth volume in University of North Carolina’s wonderful “Savor the South” series. April is a splendid cook, but I find her technique a little fussy. I simply assemble the ingredients in a skillet, put a loose lid on it, and bake at 350 until potatoes are tender and syrup reduced.

The genius of southern food is less in its individual dishes than in the overall composition of the meal. Syrupy sweet potatoes balance earthy field peas and sharp turnip greens shot through with hot pepper vinegar. Crispy cornbread swoops in to sop it all up. Here is a particularly nuanced version of ubiquitous candied sweet potatoes that makes use of that coffee can of bacon grease my grandparents and parents kept above the stove.

MAKES 6 SERVINGS

4 medium sweet potatoes (about 2 pounds), peeled and sliced 1/2 inch thick
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 tablespoon bacon drippings
1 cup sugar
3/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1/3 cup water
1 tablespoon lemon juice

Layer the sweet potatoes in a large cast-iron skillet. Dot with the butter and bacon drippings, and sprinkle with the sugar and salt. Pour the water and lemon juice over the sweet potatoes and cover the skillet with a tight-fitting lid or foil. Simmer for 15 minutes. Remove the cover and simmer until the sweet potatoes are very tender and the sauce is thick, 30-35 minutes more. Baste the sweet potatoes with the syrup from time to time, being careful not to break them up.

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Gâteau des Rois Provençal

Sure, go ahead and buy one of those puffed-up cardboard glue-filled dyed-and-painted THINGS sold as king cakes. Hell, you’re just going to get drunk and (try to) get laid, and who eats the damn thing anyway, right?

But if you are properly inspired by the carnaval spirit of Shrovetide, then you would find fuller satisfaction in serving a work of your own hands, a creation invested with your love and care, the mirror in a minor way of the sacrifice around which the season is arraigned.

Finding a recipe for a Provençal Twelfth Night couronne briochée (crown brioche) was surprisingly problematic, and here is where I thank my friends the Bucklers for their cogent translation. The recipe may seem daunting at first, but it’s nothing more than a simple light bread, sweet-“ish” and rich with a dense texture, and as with all basic breads the emphasis is on procedure rather than ingredients.

Let me encourage you to make a test version some time before you plan to serve the cake to ensure a more perfect presentation. Also, instead of a plastic baby or some such nonsense, make the crowning ‘prize’ a piece of dried fruit—I use an apricot—and for goodness sakes just use a simple glaze such as a marmalade or a syrup—fig preserves are wonderful—with candied fruit for a topping instead of glitter and spray paint. Let the good times roll!

2 cups of well-sifted flour
1 packet active dry yeast
1/4 cup sugar
Zest from 1/2 orange
1 egg
2/3 stick softened butter
1/4 cup warm orange flower water (optional) or water

Put the water and orange flower water into a bowl, add the yeast, stir until dissolved and set it to the side to bloom. In another bowl, whisk the egg with a fork. Pour the flour into a mixer bowl, making a well in the middle. Add the sugar, orange zest, the water/yeast mixture as well as the beaten egg into the well. Mix on low, adding the butter in pats and continue to mix for 5 minutes alternating between low and high speed. Scrape the dough—it should be very sticky—into a large oiled bowl, cover with a clean cloth and leave it to rise for 2 hours (no more than 3 or a crust will form).

Line a baking sheet with parchment paper, dust lightly with flour and turn the dough out on this surface. Then sprinkling with more flour as needed to make the dough manageable, re-form the ball on the baking sheet and push your thumbs in the middle of the ball, all the way down to the baking sheet to form a crown. Turn the dough to widen hole, then cover with a cloth and let rise for another hour and a half or thereabouts. At this point, you can also refrigerate the covered dough overnight and bringit to room temperature before baking in the morning. The finished dough only takes 15-20 minutes to bake in a hot (400) oven until golden brown. Glaze, decorate and enjoy!

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Ellen’s Cranberry Brisket

A recipe from my friend Ellen, who helps me keep up with my fines with the Jackson/Hinds Library System (no simple task, that). It’s beautifully succulent, with a sweet/savory tang, rather colorful—as roast meats go—and has a wonderful aroma. Doubtless more elaborate, “foodie-friendly” versions of this recipe exist, but—speaking strictly for myself—I stand with mouth agape in admiration for the sheer 60s-era simplicity of this version.

Ellen uses a 14-oz. can jellied cranberry sauce to a packet of Lipton Onion Soup Mix for each two pounds of untrimmed brisket. That’s it. She places the brisket in a lightly oiled baking pan, spreads the soup mix onto it, tops with slices of cranberry jelly, covers it, and cooks in a 275 oven an hour or so for each pound until meat is tender. Serve with onion rolls and red cabbage slaw.

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Liptauer

This Mittel-european spread is rich, smoky, and piquant. Cream a stick of softened butter with 1 cup of drained cottage cheese. Blend until very smooth. Mix with a half cup sour cream, then add a tablespoon of sweet paprika, a tablespoon of drained, chopped capers, a tablespoon ground caraway seeds, 2 very finely minced green onions, and a teaspoon of dry mustard. Mix very well, mold, and refrigerate. Bring to room temperature before serving with crudites—radishes are traditional—and/or rye toast.

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Sherried Mushrooms

Use button or baby bellas, slice thickly or not, as you like. Heat good sweet butter in a sauté skillet with a hefty smidgeon of thyme. I don’t recommend garlic, but if you feel so compelled, I urge you not to overdo it. When butter is bubbling, add mushrooms, toss, and stir until just cooked through. Add a slosh or so of dry sherry. Reduce, salt to taste, and serve. This is a great side for roast meats.

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Kids in the Kitchen

Teaching kids how to cook is a multi-faceted experience; simply doing something together gives everyone a chance to talk about what’s going on.

Learning how to cook also helps make kids curious about foods in general, bearing potential to expand the palate of a picky child. It’s also a confidence-booster, as anyone who has pulled a beautifully-baked cake out of the oven can attest.  Reading and interpreting a recipe trains reading comprehension and math skills, and it’s also the best introduction to chemistry and botany in the home.

Here’s how to make oven fries. Take a large baking potato and cut it into thick wedges or strips. Brush with oil, sprinkle with salt and pepper, place on an oiled pan, and bake in a very hot oven. Stir once or twice to brown evenly.

There you go. So simple even a kid can do it.