Weekly Dish

Well, if the answer is yes, then you have preparations to make, don’t you? While I can’t help with what you should wear, if you happen to have minimal time to whip up something festive to set on the food table, I can share this recipe.

The story of this dip is fairly representative of the way things happen in my kitchen, especially when the food is actually for an event (and not just for us to eat).

First, I spend entirely too much time deciding what to bring. Next, I spend the day of the party doing everything except preparing the dish I’m supposed to bring. Or even deciding what to bring. Then, at the last minute, I run into the kitchen, have an idea, send David dashing to the store, and he comes back with a collection of ingredients that I use to improvise a recipe I should probably be following exactly (since I’ve never made it before and I’m serving it to lots of people).

In this particular case, the idea came from The Barefoot Contessa. I originally planned to make Ina’s sundried tomato dip to take to our department holiday party on Friday. (In this case, “originally planned” means “decided on an hour before the party would start”). I sent David to the store, but I forgot to ask him to bring home cream cheese, and well, the dip is entirely based on cream cheese. And the recipe called for mayonnaise, the sight of which I cannot tolerate these days (so there is none in my fridge). So, I dug through what I did have, and the resulting sour cream, feta cheese, and sundried tomato dip was much better than I can imagine a cream cheese and mayonnaise version tasting.

One key to the flavor of the dip is salt, and how much you use will depend on a few things: first, how salty the feta is; second, what you’re planning to serve with the dip; and third, you’re preference for saltiness. David bought no-salt Zapp’s potato chips, and we had French feta cheese, which tends to be less salty than the American stuff (at least in my grocer’s cheese case) so I added a good bit of sea salt to the dip. With saltier chips and a stronger feta, the dip could have been way too salty. The cayenne pepper also gives it a nice kick, but again, you don’t want the spiciness to be overpowering. My best suggestion is to start with a palmful of salt and a pinch of pepper and then taste the final product with a chip or vegetable you’ll be using for serving; season until it tastes like you might stand there and eat the whole bowl before you leave for the party. (Then, stop, put it in a serving container and wrap tightly with plastic wrap! Hurry, you still have to get dressed!)

This recipe made enough to take in my chip and dip plate to the department party on Friday and to take over to my neighbor this afternoon for her holiday party tonight. Not bad for 10 minutes worth of preparation.

Sundried Tomato and Feta Dip

1 5-ounce jar of sundried tomatoes, packed in oil, drained
2-3 ounces feta cheese
1 cup sour cream
3 green onions, white and green parts, sliced
Sea salt, to taste
A pinch or two of cayenne pepper

In the bowl of a food processor, pulse the tomatoes a few times until coarsely chopped. Add the cheese, sour cream, green onions, salt and pepper. Pulse a few more times until thoroughly combined. Garnish with a sprinkle of green onions. Have a great time at the party!

I’ve been writing lately about yummy things that I like to make and give away recently largely because I love the spirit of giving the holiday season inspires. In the midst of your baking and shopping for those you know and love, I’d like to encourage you to also think about giving to those whom you don’t know, to those who are in need.

Menu for Hope is a fundraising campaign started by Chez Pim and supported by foodbloggers worldwide. This year, proceeds will benefit the United Nations World Food Programme, an organization that works to distribute food to needy populations across the globe.

So, how can you participate? Well, first check the amazing list of food-related prizes over at Chez Pim. Decide what you’d like to bid on, and follow these easy instructions:
1. Go to the donation page at First Giving.

2. Make a donation. Each $10 will give you one raffle ticket towards a prize. Please specify which prize or prizes you’d like in the *Personal Message* section when confirming your donation.

3. If your company matches charity donations, please remember to check the box and fill in the information so A Menu for Hope can claim the corporate match.

4. Please also check the box to allow us to see your e-mail address so we can contact you in case you win.Your e-mail address will not be shared.

5. Check back at Chez Pim on January 15 to see who the winners are.

In other foodblogging news, nominations for this year’s Food Blog Awards are open over at the Well Fed Network. After you’ve made your donation to Menu for Hope, head over to Well Fed to nominate your favorite blogs in a variety of categories!

For this month’s Paper Chef competition, the required ingredients include:

1. Vermouth
2. Cranberries
3. Sparkling drink
4. Something wild

with a celebration theme. Cranberries and a sparkling drink are easy enough, especially this time of year, and although I’ve never actually had vermouth, I understand that the sweet red version is akin to sherry or port, both of which know their way around my kitchen quite well.

The something wild part, however, I was not so sure about.

Wild berries? Not this time of year. Wild animals? My pregnancy-induced aversion to meat says no. Wild…and crazy?

Hmmm. Well, I am not wild and crazy. In fact, anyone who knows me will tell you that I am quite the opposite: pajamas and a movie suit me much better than any night out on the town (especially these days). But, I do know some wild and crazy people. In fact, one of the people who has been in my life the longest who fits that description is also one of the women who taught me a good deal about the pleasures of food and cooking: my Aunt Emily.

Aunt Em is the youngest of five children, the oldest of whom is my father. Many stories circulate about which of them — the oldest and only boy or the youngest girl — got into more trouble as a kid. Apparently, by the time Aunt Em came around, my grandparents were so tired, she did exactly as she pleased. Or so the stories go.

By the time I knew her, she was the cool aunt who invited me up to her farmhouse in the summer, let me eat absolutely whatever I pleased, did flips off of the diving board when we went to the pool, and could waterski as well as any of the teenagers at the lake. Especially compared to my sweet, mild-mannered mother, Aunt Em was the picture of let-your-hair-down wild and crazy fun.

And, man, could she cook.

And so, although I know an actual person cannot be an ingredient, the spirit of Aunt Em is certainly what inspired this creation. One of my favorite desserts that she makes is something she calls Savannah Cake, made by mixing sherry custard and torn-up angel food cake and refrigerating it in a mold. The finished cake is iced with whipped cream and served with raspberry sauce. It is beautiful — the bright red of the berries and the white of the cake — but it is also delicious.

So, for my Aunt Em-inspired Paper Chef entry, I recreated her Savannah Cake, with a few alterations. For starters, I made a champagne cake, a bit denser than angel food, but airy enough to hold the custard well. The champagne flavor of the cake also provided a nice counterpoint to the vermouth in the custard, my second adjustment. And finally, I made a cranberry sauce with lime, instead of the raspberry sauce, usually made with lemon. Truly, a celebratory dessert, it would make a delightfully different birthday cake, or a fitting end to a fancy, celebratory dinner.

I love the custardy texture of this cake, and the flavors of the vermouth and champagne do play nicely together in your mouth. But, for me, the cranberry sauce makes it — the lovely, tart berry puree coats each sweet creamy bite with the perfect tang of contrast. Next time I make it, I won’t sweeten the cream for the icing — it doesn’t need it, and I think the cream could stand alone.

This cake also requires a celebratory spirit in the kitchen — it’s quite a process to make all of the individual parts before assembly, and then you have to wait until the next day to try it! But, when you do, the anticipation will make the celebration that much sweeter. Or, shall we say, wilder?

Wild Aunt Em’s Savannah Cake with Cranberry Sauce

For the cake:
2 3/4 cup cake flour
2 t. baking powder
1 t. salt
10 1/2 T. butter
1 1/2 cups sugar, divided
3/4 cup champagne
6 egg whites (set aside the yolks for the custard)

Sift the flour, baking powder, and salt together in a bowl. Set aside.

Cream the butter and 1 cup of the sugar. Add the champagne and flour mixture alternately to the creamed butter and sugar, mixing well after each addition (or just leave the motor running on your mixer like I do). Pour this batter (it will be very thick) into a large bowl and set aside.

Wash the mixer, and beat the egg whites with the remaining 1/2 cup of sugar until soft peaks form. Stir a couple of spoonfuls of the egg whites into the batter to lighten; then, fold the whites and batter together. Pour into a greased cake pan and bake for about 40 minutes, or until the edges are light brown and a knife inserted into the center comes out clean. Put the cake on a rack to cool.

For the custard:
1 envelope unflavored gelatin, softened in 1/2 cup cold water
6 egg yolks
1 cup sugar
3/4 cup sweet vermouth (or sherry)
1/4 cup water

Beat the egg yolks until light yellow. Add the sugar and continue to beat. Stir in the vermouth and water; add the gelatin. Cook this mixture in the top of a double-boiler over simmering water (the highest temperature you can manage without the water boiling), and stir, until slightly thickened, somewhere around 15-20 minutes. The custard will coat the back of a spoon, but it won’t get terribly thick until it’s chilled. Set aside to cool.
To assemble the cake:
1 pint of whipping cream
1 cup sugar

Whip the cream and sugar together, and divide in half. Stir half of the whipped cream into the cooled custard; cover and refrigerate the rest. Mix the cream and custard well. Tear the cake into pieces and fold the cake into the custard-cream mixture. Pour this into a greased bundt pan and refrigerate overnight. The next day, ice with the remaining whipped cream and pour the cranberry sauce on top so it runs down the sides. Serve slices with more sauce.

Cranberry Sauce

12 ounces of cranberries
1 cup water
Zest and juice of 1 lime
1 cup sugar

Cook the ingredients over medium until the water boils. Then, cook for another 10 minutes, just until the cranberries burst. Force this mixture through a strainer.

One of the most satisfying holiday seasons I’ve had — at least in terms of making things — was the first Christmas after I’d started graduate school. I am a task-oriented person: I get great pleasure out of checking things off of a list, of seeing them finished. Unfortunately, graduate school is a place where many things stay on the to-do list for months and months. Books I want to read linger under the weight of things that have to be read for class, ideas I have for creative writing get lost in the flurry of academic research papers, and even the simple task of figuring out what I want to write about takes a very, very long time.

After a semester of this delayed gratification, I was more than thrilled to get into the kitchen, start a complicated project in the morning, and have it finished by the afternoon. As a matter of fact, if it weren’t for my cooking breaks, I am quite sure I would never, ever have completed a master’s thesis. The ho-hum activity of making dinner took on a new meaning: I would look at a pretty, delicious plate of food as I placed it on the table, and think, “See, I can accomplish something.”

Which is what eventually led me to writing this blog: the delight I gleaned from completed cooking projects I very much wanted from my writing. Now, when I read a finished post that I’ve had at least some time to compose thoughtfully, I feel like I can finish a piece of writing. And that feels good. It even motivates me to get back to work on the 25-page paper waiting on my desktop.

That first Christmas when I learned this about myself, my favorite project to complete were these truffles.

Now, I should warn you: these little gems do not come together in a couple of hours; making truffles is a process. It’s a process I love, especially during the holidays, at the end of a long semester, because you work on them for a bit and then you have an hour break to wrap presents, start another kitchen project, or sit down with a cup of tea and the paper you’ve been working on for weeks before you go on to the next step. And, the finished products are so pretty that by the time I’ve finished a whole batch, I really feel like I’ve accomplished something.

A little box of these makes a great hostess gift if you’re going to a party, or a lovely holiday happy to leave on a co-worker’s desk. I like to wrap them up in parchment paper and place them in a Chinese take-out box: a ribbon and a card, and they’re all set. You don’t want to leave them out if it’s warm, but in colder weather, I’ve found I can leave them in their packaging in my dark, cold laundry room until I’m ready to give them away.

Talk about a sense of accomplishment. When I’m rushing out the door to a holiday function, and I remember that I can open up my laundry room, pull out a gift that I made, and take it with me, I start to feel downright efficient. Unless, of course, I happen to glimpse the piles of laundry at my feet or the mess in the kitchen.

But, hey, a girl can only do so much, and I’ll take my victories when I can get them. Don’t forget to put away at least a few truffles for yourself: a bite of one of these chocolate treats and a hot cup of coffee is sweet victory indeed.

I should have posted these recipes a few weeks ago, when The Passionate Cook hosted a whole event dedicated to truffles, but that was the week of Thanksgiving, and I had too much else going on (but if you want to see a whole host of other truffle recipes, you can check out the round-up here).

This recipe gives endless possibilities: you can flavor the chocolate however you’d like and then proceed with appropriate coatings and decorations. The two versions pictured here, one almond and the other dark chocolate raspberry, get their subtle flavors from almond extract and raspberry liqueur respectively. I also usually make a plain dark chocolate one and coat it with white chocolate, and this year, I’m planning some peppermint ones, flavored with peppermint extract and rolled in crushed peppermint candy.

Chocolate Truffles

24 ounces semisweet chocolate (chocolate chips will work)
6 T. whole milk
6 egg yolks, beaten until pale yellow.
3/4 pound butter (3 sticks)

In the top of a double boiler, combine the chocolate and milk. Stir over medium heat until the chocolate is melted and smooth. Remove from heat, and add the egg yolks immediately, slowly streaming them into the melted chocolate, stirring constantly to keep the egg from solidifying immediately (you don’t want yellow flecks in your chocolate). Cut the butter into pieces, and stir it in until the mixture is shiny and smooth. At this point, you can divide the mixture into batches if you want to experiment with flavors, or use the whole batch to make the same kind of truffle.

For a flavored truffle, stir in one of the following*:
2 T. raspberry-flavored liqueur, like Framboise (Hershey also makes raspberry-flavored chocolate chips, which make a pretty good truffle)
1 T. almond extract (you can also add a spoonful of Amaretto if you have it)
1 T. peppermint extract
1 T. finely grated orange zest

*Depending on how many times you divide the chocolate, these quantities may need adjusting. Add and then taste to get the strength of flavor you want. 

Refrigerate the batches of chocolate for about an hour (you want the chocolate to be pliable enough to work with, but not so soft that it melts all over your hands). Form the chilled chocolate into small balls and place on wax paper-lined trays or cookie sheets. Now, if you aren’t going to coat the truffles in chocolate or white chocolate coating, you can roll them in crushed nuts, candies, or cocoa powder and be done. If you want the smooth, hard outer coating, you’ll need to refrigerate the formed balls for another half-hour or so.

To coat: melt candy coating in a glass bowl (I do it in the microwave). Dip each ball into the coating quickly with a spoon and place on wax paper to cool and harden. For drizzles, melt a different color coating and drizzle away (I used red food coloring and white chocolate coating to get the pink decoration above).

This recipe makes between 2 and 3 dozen truffles, depending on how big you make them.

. . .that’s exactly what John Folse, famous chef around these parts, said on his radio show this morning. I laughed as I thought about my own kitchen — his description certainly fit. From Thanksgiving to Christmas, I go into baking overdrive. For one thing, our old house is drafty, and keeping the oven on helps me stay warm. More importantly, though, the constant scent of something sweet permeates the house, reminding me and everyone else who enters that this is a season to celebrate.

The holidays were so much fun at my house growing up — my dad would take all of us out to cut an enormous tree, Mom would pull down the decorations, and I would revel in the sheer energy of always having something to celebrate.

As David and I have started our own holiday traditions, making treats to take to parties, to snack on, or to give away later, has become one of the constants. This handy little shortbread recipe has been used over and over during past months of December. I don’t know why I don’t make it during other times of the year, but I started taking it to holiday gatherings some years ago, and for whatever reason, it feels like a holiday recipe.

For one thing, it’s incredibly sweet and rich — not the kind of everyday dessert I usually make. For another, it cuts nicely into cute little squares, and makes an elegant package wrapped in parchment paper and tied with a ribbon. People seem to love it, and one recipe goes a pretty long way (unless you leave it sitting out on your counter for passersby to nibble on.)

This month will be full of recipes like this one. As I prepare for the holidays, dinner is usually the last thing on my mind: the 350-degree oven is usually on and baking something sweet.

I LOVE December. It’s a good thing that I’m such a holiday fanatic because I really don’t care that much for cold weather. The holidays keep my spirits up, even if I am grumbling just a bit about my ever-icy hands and nose. I know, I know, I would never survive in a less temperate climate. Or perhaps I would just bake more.

Caramel Nut Shortbread

For the crust:
2 sticks butter
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 t. salt
1 t. almond extract
1 egg
2 3/4 cup flour
Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Line a 15×10 jelly roll pan with parchment paper. In a food processor or mixer, combine the butter, sugar, salt, almond extract, egg and flour. Process until the dough starts to come together. Press into the jelly roll pan, halfway up the sides. Cover the dough and refrigerate for an hour. Prick it with a fork and bake for 10 minutes.

For the topping:
2 sticks butter
1/4 cup sugar
1 cup brown sugar
1/3 cup honey (or a combination of honey and maple syrup or cane syrup)
1/4 cup heavy cream
3-4 cups of nuts (I used half sliced almonds, half pecans this time, but whatever you have on hand will work)
Good salt, like fleur de sel (regular sea salt works too)
In a saucepan, combine the butter, sugar, brown sugar, and honey over medium to medium-low heat. Simmer (but don’t boil) until the sugar dissolves. Once you can’t detect any granules with your spoon, bring the mixture to a boil. Boil for 3 minutes without stirring, remove from the heat, and stir in the cream. Pour the mixture onto the baked crust, and sprinkle the nuts evenly on top. Bake for 10-12 minutes more. The mixture should be bubbly. Dot with a few grains of sea salt (I place them on one at a time. You don’t want the bars to be salty, just to add a hint of contrast every now and then). When cool, cut into small squares.
–adapted from Intercourses by Martha Hopkins and Randall Lockridge

Even though we traveled to Mississippi to see our families over the weekend, David and I spent this Thanksgiving Day at home. The semester schedule is hard on Thanksgiving holidays — we both had class on Wednesday and decided that getting up early to travel on Thursday was too stressful. Besides, David’s brother, Jon, and his wife, Hannah, are spending some time with us in between moves, and Hannah and I have always talked about how fun it would be to cook our own holiday meal.

And that is exactly what we did. We took our time, assembling and prepping on Wednesday so we wouldn’t have too much to do on Thursday, and made everything from scratch. I am notorious for overdoing everything, and when we sat down to make out the menu, I could tell that narrowing down a Thanksgiving spread to a simple dinner for 4 would be no easy feat.

But, in the name of a relaxing, stress-free holiday, I practiced all of the self-restraint I could muster and decided on a simple menu. The mother of a student I tutor brought me a quart of Spinach Madeline, so that was a for-sure side dish. David wanted to be in charge of the bird, so we sent him and Jon on a quest for an organic free-range turkey and let them take over that part of dinner. The other things we decided on were my grandmother’s cornbread dressing, which she taught me to make last Christmas; the World’s Best Green Bean Casserole (sans cream of mushroom soup, thank you, Alanna); cranberry sauce; and my great-grandmother’s sweet potato pie.

On Wednesday, we made cornbread, baked and mashed the sweet potatoes, made the cranberry sauce, and assembled the green beans minus the topping. It was a luxurious day of cooking — no rushing, no panicking, no worrying. And when Thursday came, all that was left was the bird and the dressing.

Oh, and the most ceremonious part for me: the setting of the table.

I come from a long line of women who have adorned their tables with beautiful things: fine china, cut-glass stemware, and sterling silver appear on my mother’s and grandmother’s dining room tables at every special occasion (and on many ordinary days too). These things are not necessary to enjoy a special meal, to be sure, but I love that I have them.

One of the benefits of getting married in the small southern town you grew up in (and marrying a boy from a nearby small town) is that people still feel like it’s important to arm the bride and groom with every dining accoutrement they could possibly need for their whole lives. And there’s something very sweet about that for me — that when my grown children come to dinner at my house with their families, we’ll feast on the dishes I was given on my wedding day, years and years before anyone could know what my life would turn out like.

We don’t pull out the china and crystal very often, but when we do, I feel like I’m pulling out all of the people who saw me through to this point in my life, all the people who came and celebrated with us when we married, all the people who wanted us to have pretty things and share them with our family.

My favorite of these possessions is a silver chest that belonged to my mother, filled with the pieces my grandmother has been giving me for what seems like my whole life. On my sixteenth birthday, when I opened up my gift from her to find a spoon, a knife, and two forks, I’ll admit that I didn’t quite know what to think. But, now, after many more of those birthdays, and other people adding to the collection along the way, it fills me with joy to pull out those lovely pieces and use them to share food with people I love.

On this Thanksgiving Day, of course I was thankful for the three people who immediately surrounded our small, simple Thanksgiving meal. But I love that I felt the presence of so many others who have contributed to kind of cook, hostess, and person I am. If only my table were bigger.

Dressing (not stuffing) is a staple at my family’s holiday events. My grandmother makes it every year, and every year, the aunts sit around and talk about how somebody needs to learn how to make it like she does (much like all of the other family recipes, there are no official written instructions).

So last Christmas, my sister and I followed Grandmother around the kitchen, snapping photos and scribbling down notes about what she was doing. This year, David’s brother and his wife are sharing Thanksgiving dinner with us, so Hannah and I are attempting to replicate the famous dressing.

I should say a word about southern cornbread dressing: it is not very similar to stuffings of other kinds. It’s more kin to a savory bread pudding, moistened by eggs and stock until it can be pressed into a dish, baked, and cut into squares. The oven browns the top into a lovely crunch, which gives way to a soft cloud of egg-enriched cornbread, flecked with celery, onion, and scallions.

I’m recording Grandmother’s instructions here, as Elizabeth and I observed, but after Hannah and I have attempted to follow them, I promise to update with more specifics. Grandmother’s been doing this so long, she can almost move around the kitchen combining ingredients blindfolded, so quantifying what she was doing was quite a challenge.

Grandmother’s Cornbread Dressing

1 batch cornbread (she makes it with buttermilk, but I don’t have the exact recipe. I’ll post the one Hannah and I use later, but Grandmother says the Jiffy mix works in a pinch)
Half of a bunch of celery
2 yellow onions
Olive oil and butter
Half a bunch of scallions or green onions
6 eggs
1 bag Pepperidge Farm stuffing
A handful of Saltine crackers, crackers
2 1/2 - 3 cups chicken or turkey stock (we roasted a chicken earlier in the week, so we would have homemade)
Salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Heat the oil and butter (enough to properly sweat the vegetables) in a skillet. Dice the celery and yellow onion, and slice the green onion, white and green parts. Saute the celery and onion in the oil and butter over medium-high heat until translucent. Add the green onions and cook for another minute or two.

In a large bowl, crumble up the cornbread. Beat the eggs and mix them in. Dump in the soft veggies, the stuffing mix, and the crushed crackers. Stir with a long-handled wooden spoon until well-combined.

Here comes the tricky part. You have to pour in the stock until the dressing reaches the “right” consistency. This is what it should look like (only half that quantity):

You can pour more stock on top of the dressing as it cooks if it looks like it’s getting to be too dry, but you want to be able to easily mold the mixture into a casserole dish. It should stick together without a problem, but you don’t want it to be soupy.

Press into a casserole, and bake for 45 minutes, or until it browns around the edges.

Recipe courtesy of the cutest, sweetest Grandmother I know (and my cute, sweet sister, Elizabeth, who helped record it):

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

This month’s Paper Chef competition, hosted by fellow southerner Kevin at Seriously Good, happened to fall on July 4th weekend. In honor of that timing, Kevin decided that, in addition to the three randomly chosen ingredients,–corn, pine nuts, and ground coriander–the fourth ingredient should in some way represent Independence Day; regardless of our locale, participants should “create a recipe that celebrates your nation’s emancipation from its previous rulers or form of government or whatever other thing celebrated to honor nationhood.” (Somewhat of a paradoxical idea here in America, but I’ll spare you my treatise on that subject.)

Politics and history aside, the idea of freedom is something I can certainly celebrate. The cliche of course is “free as a bird,” and while flying might represent freedom for some, I have always been a water girl. I can’t remember the time before I couldn’t swim, and there are few instances I can think of when I feel more liberated than when my body is gliding through cold water. Especially in this July heat.

In light of that quirk, I chose fish as my fourth ingredient; yellowfin tuna, to be exact, and I prepared him (or her) for David’s and my celebration of this year’s July 4th.

Fresh tuna is such a great summery food–we like it seared and rare, so it takes almost no time to cook, and the flavor is rich enough to stand alone, but mild enough to combine well with other things. Like, you know, corn, coriander, and pine nuts.

The avocado and corn salsa was alternately tart from the lime juice, spicy from the jalapeno, and buttery-sweet from it’s two main ingredients. To spice it up a little, I flavored pine nuts with one of my favorite seasoning combinations: cumin, chile, and coriander, and topped the salsa with the toasted nuts, which provided a nice crunchy texture.

Tuna and avocado is, to me, a perfect match, and the other flavors enhanced the combination even more. Blue corn tortillas added a patriotic touch–see the star in the picture?–and scooped up what was left of the salsa when the tuna had vanished. All in all, this was a delicious meal that I would definitely make again (and, truth be told, some of my farfetched Paper Chef concoctions do not earn that commendation!)

This month’s competition is being judged by Kevin and last month’s winner, Gabriella, of My Life as a Reluctant Housewife. Check Kevin’s site for a round-up and the winners later in the week.

Stars and Stripes Tuna with Avocado-Corn Salsa
1/2 cup pine nuts
1/4 t. ground coriander
1/4 t. ground cumin
1/4 t. chile powder
Pinch of cayenne pepper
Kosher salt (just a sprinkle)
1/4 t. olive oil
1 clove garlic, minced
1/4 t. ground coriander
1/4 cup cilantro, chopped
1/2 small tomato, diced
1/2 cup corn kernels, cooked and stripped from the cob, plus extra for serving
1/2 jalapeno pepper, seeded and minced
1 avocado, diced
Juice of 1 lime
1/4 t. Kosher salt
2 very fresh yellowfin tuna fillets, about 1/2 pound each
1/2 t. olive oil
Blue corn tortilla chips

For the nuts: Heat a heavy skillet over medium heat. Add the nuts and spices (coriander, cumin, chile, and cayenne). Toast in the dry skillet for a couple of minutes, until the nuts and spices are fragrant. Add 1/4 t. olive oil (a tiny, tiny dribble, just to allow the spices to stick to the nuts), and stir to coat the nuts. Cook, stirring for another 3-4 minutes and sprinkle with salt. The nuts should be golden brown. Remove them from the skillet and set aside.

For the salsa: Stir together the garlic, 1/4 t. ground coriander, cilantro, tomato, corn, and jalapeno pepper. Add the avocado and lime juice and toss gently. Sprinkle with salt and set aside.

For the tuna: Heat 1/2 t. of olive oil in the skillet (the same one you cooked the nuts in) over high until smoking. Add the fillets, and sear on both sides, cooking until your desired doneness (we like ours very rare, so no more than a minute per side for us, but you can cook it longer if you like yours more done).

To plate: Slice the tuna into strips. Arrange the tortilla chips in whatever shape you like (a star for Independence Day, perhaps?), and fan the tuna strips out from the chip bed. Top with avocado salsa and spiced pine nuts. Garnish with extra corn, chips, and cilantro. Our traditional mode of holiday festivities around here usually includes the traditional fancy celebration dinner, and a brunch, for which we forgo both breakfast and lunch,. Especially July 4th, when we can almost always be found watching Wimbledon, brunch suits a lazy holiday quite nicely.

Before Hurricane Katrina, the Mississippi Gulf Coast was known for its pallatial beachfront homes. At the end of one particular drive lined with a towering plot of regal old oaks, gracefully wearing their age in their stature and in the silver locks of Spanish moss dripping from their branches, lay a sprawling white bed and breakfast called Green Oaks.

My first job out of college, as the editor of a small, regional magazine, took me to Green Oaks with my friend and co-worker, Lori, many summers ago. For a special issue on the Coast, we stayed for a few days, attending the blessing of the fleet, a tradition that marks the beginning of shrimping season, wandering around the maritime museum, and eating and photographing some fabulous food. The afternoon we first arrived, after we’d made our way up the winding front stairs, the hostess showed us to our room and then on to the front porch, where aging rocking chairs, a lazy yellow cat named Bill Clinton, and a tray of mint juleps and cucumber sandwiches awaited.

Truth be told, I could have spent the next several days in that rocking chair, listening to the ocean and taking in the warm, salty breeze. I recently opened the issue of the magazine that resulted from that trip, and I could almost smell the heavy, sea-tinged air.
Looking through those stories and photographs now was so strange–like reading about somewhere far away–because so much of what we experienced is no longer there.

My favorite meal we ate was the breakfast the hostess of Green Oaks prepared the morning we were leaving: a soupy bed of red pepper cream sauce, a crispy fried green tomato, and a soft, poached egg, topped with a smattering of fresh, lump crabmeat.

For Memorial Day weekend this year, I tried to recreate that memorable Green Oaks breakfast.

The lovely Green Oaks and its surrounding community may have to be rebuilt from the ground up, but the rich culinary heritage of that coastal region remains. The next time you make crab cakes, I urge you to reserve a couple of tablespoons of the crab meat and try this dish. If you close your eyes really tightly and take a deep breath, you might just be able to smell the salty Gulf air. And if not, I promise you’ll be able to taste it.

Eggs Green Oaks

For the fried green tomatoes:
1 cup flour
1/2 cup corn meal
1 T. Tony Chacheres (or other Cajun seasoning)
1/2 cup milk
2 eggs
Buttermilk, to soak the tomatoes
3 green tomatoes
1 cup canola oil
Slice the tomatoes into thick rounds. Salt and pepper; soak in the buttermilk while you prepare the batter and the oil. Mix the flour, corn meal, and the seasoning on a plate. Whisk together the milk and eggs. Heat the oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. When the oil is hot (and not before! A drop of water should sizzle immediately), dip the tomato slices in the egg-milk mixture and then dredge in the seasoned flour. Fry until golden brown, about 5-7 minutes per side. Drain on paper towels and keep warm.

For the spicy cream sauce:
1/2 cup chopped sweet onion
1 jalapeno pepper, chopped finely
1/4 cup butter
1/4 teaspoon Seasoned Salt
Juice of 1 lemon
2 T. half and half
1/4 cup fresh, lump crab meat
Melt the butter in a small saucepan over medium-low. Add the pepper and onion and cook until soft, about 6-8 minutes. Season with the seasoned salt, and add the lemon juice and cream. Cook until all is combined; cover and keep warm. Add the crab meat and stir gently, just before serving. You want it to just be warm.

For the eggs:
1 egg per person
Olive oil
You can poach the eggs if you prefer; I fried them for my husband, who loves them that way. Heat about a half-inch of olive oil in a skillet. Break the egg into the skillet (you can use a cookie cutter if you want it to be a particular shape, as I did; just make sure you grease the sides of the cookie cutter!). Spoon the hot oil on top of the egg as it fries; cook until the white begins to congeal, or until it reaches your desired doneness. To assemble: Spoon some cream sauce onto each plate, reserving the crab meat. Place two slices of fried green tomato in the center and top with an egg. Spoon the rest of the cream sauce over the egg and the tomatoes and scatter the crab meat over the plate. Garnish with paprika if you prefer. Eat immediately.

This recipe was inspired by Jennifer Diaz, former owner of Green Oaks bed and breakfast.

The first time my husband saw me eat a raw oyster, I wasn’t sure if our relationship would make it. I have treasured these sea-dwelling delicacies for as long as I can remember. But David? Not so keen on the texture. And, he cringed every time I slid one off of a cracker into my mouth. But oysters are supposed to be so romantic, I said, the ultimate love food. How could we be in love and not enjoy oysters together?

Thankfully, David bravely overcame his oyster-phobia and even enjoys them raw (or so he says) these days. But one of his favorite ways that I fix them is this way: baked under a layer of bread crumbs, butter, and blue cheese.

Because I love them so, we often have oysters on various special occasions. It just so happens that I made these about a month ago, in celebration five years of marriage to the man who has learned to endure many quirky things about me, including my passion for these slippery little mollusks. For that alone, I love him so.

This recipe is adapted from Blue Cheese Oysters in (fittingly enough) Martha Hopkins’ and Randall Lockridge’s aphrodesiac cookbook, Intercourses.

Blue Cheese Oyster Gratin

2 dozen oysters (I buy them already shucked, packed in liquid from my fish market)
4 ounces blue cheese, crumbled
1/2 cup bread crumbs
3 T. butter, softened
Sliced bread (I used sourdough)
2 large cloves garlic, halved

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees; spray a square baking dish with cooking spray. In a small bowl, combine the butter, bread crumbs, and blue cheese. Lay the oysters in a single layer in the bottom of the baking dish. Top evenly with the blue cheese mixture. Bake for about 12-15 minutes, until the bread crumbs are browned and the cheese is soft and melted. Toast the bread slices while the oysters are baking. Rub each side with the cut side of a garlic clove; serve the oyster gratin with the toast.

I served a simple salad on the side: raddicchio, baby lettuce, carrot, halved grapes, and blue cheese crumbles, under a sherry mustard vinaigrette (for which I promise to post a recipe soon; I always forget to measure quantities when I make it!)