Cheddar

Of all the hot snacks I put together, it is this unctuous topping of onions, thick toast, and highly seasoned melted cheese that pleases most. The onions need to cook, with the occasional stir as you pass, for a good fifteen minutes or so. They are ready only when they are truly soft and golden—there is no shortcut. The leftover cold beer solves the problem of what to drink with your meal.

There is a point in the year, usually after the Christmas decorations have been put away, when the house gets too cold to sit still in without a wrap around you. I have always kept a cold house; hot rooms make me feel unhealthy. But sometimes the only way of getting warm here is to eat. Carbohydrate-rich meals, such as the tart of leek and cheese and pastry I made on the coldest day of the year, warm you in a way few others are capable of.

Cheese is the savior of chard, as a crisp crust, a seasoning for soup, a luscious sauce, bringing out its qualities while introducing a note of luxury. Often, the bolder the cheese the more interesting the result, so a well-matured British cheese is a wise choice for something like a shallow chard tart. As a sort of double whammy, I add cheese to the pastry as well as the filling.

I enjoy making a bit of a fuss about cheese sauce. The difference between a carelessly put together sauce and one made with care and love is astounding. Taking the trouble to flavor the milk with bay, clove, and onion, allowing the sauce to come together slowly to give its ingredients time to get know one another, and enriching it with a little cream will result in a sauce of twice the standing of one seasoned only with speed and sloppiness. There is much humble satisfaction in a simple dish, carefully made.

You could measure my life in bowls of soup. Each New Year’s Day brings a pot of lentil soup (a good-luck symbol throughout much of Europe); pea and mint soup is to celebrate early summer; cabbage soup for colds and crash diets; parsnip soup for frosty weekends; chicken broth to cleanse my soul. You probably don’t want to know about the parsimonious soup-stew I put together from the weekly fridge cleanup. I do believe in the power of soup to restore our spirits and to strengthen and protect us. Steaming, frugal, yet curiously luxurious, soup replaces many a meal in this house. With a good loaf on the bread board and fresh salad in the bowl, I have no shame in serving soup to visitors (only amusement in watching them looking round in vain for a main course). I first came up with the idea of this soup years ago, and have watched it do the rounds, yet it has never made it into any of my own books until now. It has something of the Welsh rarebit about it.

Since this soup is the liquid version of a baked potato, calories and all, you can use low-fat milk with no detrimental effect on flavor, if it gives you any comfort. But don’t do anything silly, like use low-fat cheese, which melts poorly and tastes worse. It’s important to add the cheese a little at a time, so it incorporates and doesn’t become an oily mess.

One of my favorite possessions is my grandmother’s cast-iron skillet. It’s more precious to me than the antique bone china that I also inherited. To think of all the fried chicken and cornbread it has held is amazing. Several years ago, I returned home to Georgia after living in New York City, and I carried my treasured skillet in a blanket on my lap practically the whole trip. It is almost like my sacred talisman. No one will dare touch it when we are cleaning up from dinner. If I leave the room, I return to a spotless kitchen with a dirty cast-iron skillet on the stovetop. No one wants the responsibility. It sounds severe, but a little fear is fine with me. When properly seasoned over time, cast iron develops a virtually nonstick surface that only improves with use. To clean cast-iron cookware, wash with a nonabrasive sponge and warm soapy water. Rinse it well. To prevent rust, make sure the piece is completely dry before you store it. As insurance, I usually place mine in a warm oven for a little while to fully dry out. Cast iron is great for baking cornbread, pan-frying, and sauteing. It is a little slow to heat up, but once it does, it heats evenly and stays hotter longer. Cast iron is inexpensive and can be found at hardware and cookware stores.

Southerners love a casserole. They are church supper staples, great to take to the new neighbor, and equally welcome to a new mom. Cheddar, sometimes called “rat cheese” in the South, ranges in flavor from mild, nutty, and creamy to extra-sharp, rich, and robust. Gruyère is a low-moisture cow’s milk cheese from eastern France and western Switzerland. It has a sweet, rich, almost nutty flavor and is excellent for a cheese sauce. Cheddar cheese is more Southern, though, if you wanted to stay truer to those roots. Turkey sausage is much lower in fat than sausage made from pork and other kinds of meat. Use country-style or coarse-ground sausage, and if purchased in links, remove it from the casing before cooking.

Summer squash is a tender vegetable that differs from winter squash in that it is harvested before the rind hardens. It grows on bush-type plants, not vines that spread. There are many varieties, including yellow crookneck and straightneck, scallop, pattypan, and zucchini, that all cook in the same amount of time. When preparing summer squash dishes, I like to mix the varieties for an interesting contrast of color. When there is a family gathering or buffet, my mother-in-law, Sara, is always asked to bring her squash casserole.

Many Northern macaroni-and-cheese recipes use a béchamel sauce to coat tender elbow noodles, but the only time most Southerners put flour in a skillet is to make gravy—certainly not for a white sauce for macaroni. Our recipes are often simple combinations of pasta, eggs, butter, milk, and cheese. My Aunt Lee often prepares this dish. When I asked her about her recipe, she replied, “I just mix it all up in the dish until it looks right.” I had to coax a little more instruction out of her to share it with you here.

This simple casserole is a familiar dish in the South. It is an absolute standard at potlucks, brunches, weddings, and funerals. Casseroles are the salve that heals a Southerner’s wounded soul. I always call this dish “funeral grits” because it’s the perfect dish to take to the bereaved after the funeral. It can be treated as a side dish, held for hours in a low oven with few ill effects, and the leftovers reheat wonderfully. Funeral food in the South is a category all to itself. The food should be comforting, not too fancy, and even in this day and age, is best if homemade (not a platter of sliced deli meats from the grocery store). When my godfather, Uncle Raymond, died many years ago, I remember the women swarming in the kitchen, each and every one of them taking on a specific chore. Even though I was a professional cook by this time, I was designated for phone duty. I didn’t mind; I may have been a professional cook, but I was still the youngest and lowest on the totem pole. This dish serves six to eight people, more than most of the recipes in this book. Lord knows, a dish serving less people won’t go far at a Southern funeral. Use this recipe as a guide and make it your own. Add more jalapeño to give it some real heat, or switch up the cheeses and try adding freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano, Gruyère, or white Cheddar.

An Italian frittata is an open-faced omelet similar to a Spanish tortilla. A French omelet is cooked very quickly over high heat, and additions like herbs, cheese, or vegetables are enclosed in the center of a two- or three-part fold. Frittatas and tortillas are cooked more slowly. The additional ingredients are whisked into the eggs and cooked at the same time. This delicious and easy dish makes a satisfying, simple supper with a side salad. Or take the Spanish approach, and cut the frittata into bite-size cubes and serve it skewered as a simple hors d’oeuvre. Ham and eggs are, of course, a marriage made in heaven. Used cured ham in this recipe, or if using country ham, halve the amount, so it will not be too salty.

The “pâté of the South,” pimento cheese is the epitome of a summer picnic delight. Everyone has a slightly different recipe, but the primary ingredients remain the same. Don’t be tempted to buy grated cheese, because the end result won’t be creamy enough. Try this stuffed in tomatoes, slathered on a celery stick, or (one of my favorites) straight from the bowl on a spoon.

When I was growing up, our nibbles were most often the cheese straws made by my grandfather, whom I called Dede. Dede was a tall, strapping man who knew the secret of a long, happy marriage to his iron-willed wife. As he put it, his blue eyes twinkling, he always got in the last word: “Yes, beloved.” Dede would layer his cheese straws in a tin lined with sheets of butter-stained waxed paper smelling of sharp cheese and peppery cayenne. Everyone loves these cheese straws—I once caught a party guest stuffing his pockets with them. A cookie press is needed to make these savory crackers. I prefer the version that resembles a caulking gun, although a turn-crank one will do. Some hard-core cheese straw makers invest in the electric version!

Mama found the original of this recipe on the back of a box of Bisquick, a premixed baking product containing flour, shortening, salt, and leavening. According to General Mills, the recipe continues to be one of their most popular. Mama added pecans to the sausage balls, which she served during the holidays and at cocktail parties. I made a few additional changes and developed this “from scratch” version. This recipe works best if you grate the cheese yourself rather than buying it already grated, which is coated to keep the pieces from sticking together. You can add additional cayenne if you like, or use extra hot sausage.

The sugar in corn begins to turn to starch as soon as it is picked. So, to get the maximum flavor for your corn pudding, use very fresh corn, preferably picked the same day, or a high-quality frozen product. Serve alongside any kind of grilled meat, especially lamb, or with a simple salad for lunch.

Tillamook cheddar cheese is made by a farmer-owned cooperative in Tillamook County, Oregon, that was founded in 1909 by dairy farmers to establish quality control over their product. Today the Tillamook co-op ownership is 150 families strong. And the Portland-based Oregon Brewers Guild, which boasts that Oregon is home to more microbreweries per person than just about anyplace on earth, currently has forty-one small, independent brewing members scattered throughout the state. I can think of fewer toothsome marriages than that of a good, sharp cheddar and a full-flavored beer.

Shrimp is something that I don’t often serve at parties simply because it costs too much. But, this recipe uses the tiny little shrimp that are usually pretty cheap. Use frozen shrimp: the canned ones taste too fishy, or if you don’t like shrimp, you can leave them out.

These mini tostadas are ideal because you get all the flavors in one bite. You can use any kind of chips, but the scoops that are shaped like little bowls hold everything together well.

I know you’re thinking, “Yeah, it’s low-cal because I only get one measly enchilada.” Not true. Okay, partially true, you only get one enchilada per serving, but they’re really big. By making larger enchiladas, you can pack them with all the good stuff and still save a couple hundred calories from skipping the extra tortillas.