Category: Southern Cooking

Cornbread, Black-Eyed Peas, and A Very Good Chocolate Cake: Miss Lewis Is With Us Today

Perhaps you’ve had a wonderful 2017; then again, you might be of the opinion that the year has been a bad one. I, as often as I can, try to remind myself that good and bad are intermingled, twined, eternally debating and by turns battling it out for dominance, good on top for a while, then losing to bad, which takes its place at the top for a time. Then there are those days and nights during which good and bad share the roost. Those might seem strange periods, but the wise among us know it’s aways that way.

I imagine 2018 will bring more of the same, as human years always have. Our minds either figure out how to assimilate and understand the dualities of good and bad, and stay above lazy despair or vapid elation, or fight against the bad, a struggle that — and these latter types of minds, in my opinion, never realize that their crusade for “their” good results in the killing of the self — is futile and cripples the struggler, often mortally.

Wake up and smell the coffee in 2018.

The first day of a year, as arbitrary as that day might in actuality be, is a good time to decide which mind you want to have. It’s January 1, 2018, and I’m thinking of Edna Lewis, who had a great mind and soul. I’m thinking of her because Angela made A Very Good Chocolate Cake yesterday, and today I’m making cornbread. The recipes for both come from Lewis, a woman with whom I wish I had been able to share a table at least once, a beautiful woman with soul and spirit and grace and talent who conquered New York City with her food and hospitality. She also: made a dress for Marilyn Monroe; worked with Dorcas Avedon (Richard’s wife) as a dress copier; and, perhaps most famously, presided over the kitchen at Café Nicholson, where she served Truman Capote, Marlon Brando, Tennessee Williams, William Faulkner, Diana Vreeland, and Marlene Dietrich, to name but a few of the many who found nourishment for their bodies and souls at her table. If you know Miss Lewis, celebrate her memory by creating something from one of her cookbooks. If you do know not know of her, now’s the time.

Angela (and Edna Lewis) did this.

I’ve made A Very Good Chocolate Cake many times, and have enjoyed hearing from others who made it at my urging, or after reading this. I’ll go ahead and persuade you to make it, because it is nothing but good.

The Peacemaker

New Orleans was treating me well. I had arrived the night before, driving up from South Florida, and my first stop, directly off of the interstate, was Pêche, a new destination – it opened about three months ago – in the Link Restaurant Group, the people behind Herbsaint and several other places. If you are in New Orleans and want some great seafood, take a drive to Magazine Street and sit for a while in Pêche.

Looking for Walker Percy: The courtyard of Creole Gardens, a bed and breakfast in New Orleans.

Looking for Walker Percy: The courtyard of Creole Gardens, a bed and breakfast in New Orleans.

After oysters, smoked tuna dip, raw tuna with fennel, corn and tomato water, and excellent grouper collars, I drove the short distance to my inn, the Creole Gardens, and settled in for the evening, thinking of tomorrow’s meals. A comfortably shabby courtyard, complete with banana trees hanging with bunches of the fruit and a gurgling fountain, and a small but serviceable room, greeted me.

Up early the next morning, breakfast at the inn – grits, two eggs over easy and bacon. My mind wasn’t really on that food, though, because I was thinking about how long it would be before I could have lunch. You see, my plan was all about the po’ boy; specifically, one with the name “Peacemaker” made at Mahony’s, a restaurant I knew of and one of the meals recommended to me by John T. Edge when I asked him “If you could eat three meals in New Orleans now, where would you go?” (Pêche and Brigtsen’s were the other two.) I had read about the Peacemaker a few years ago, and that, along with John’s input, resulted in Mahony’s getting my business in a po’ boy-rich city.

You must go here when in New Orleans.

This sign guides you to one fine  po’ boy.

I made the right decision. Mahony’s is also on Magazine, in a non-descript house with a welcoming front porch that allows for outdoor dining. Wooden flooring, SEC football posters on the walls, condiments stored in six-pack containers. You place your order at the end of the bar, give your name, and wait for the goodness to come out of the kitchen. The Peacemaker is “market price,” owing to the fried oysters that are key to its deliciousness. It comes in large and small, and I ordered a small, knowing dinner was still on the agenda. Pickles and mayo, please, hold the lettuce and tomato. I took a seat, looking forward to the sandwich.

A few minutes later the cook delivered it to me, wrapped in white butcher paper. I opened it and inhaled, then slowly took the first bite. Perfect muffaletta with sesame seeds, slightly warm, the proper level of chewiness. (Mahony’s get its bread from the Leidenheimer Baking Company, which was founded in 1896 by George Leidenheimer, who was from Deidesheim, Germany, a city near where I lived in Germany.) I asked for a side of mayonnaise and settled in for a leisurely meal. The Abita Amber was a good complement.

The Peacemaker, closed view

The Peacemaker, closed view

Not the most visually appealing image, but once this is in your mouth you will be in heaven, guaranteed.

Not the most visually appealing image, but once this is in your mouth you will be in heaven, guaranteed.

What we have: three or four fried oysters, cheddar cheese, and two slices of bacon. And we also have something approaching perfection. Oysters cooked with aplomb, crisp on the outside, warm and soft interiors. The bacon combined with the oysters to create a great taste. Even the small pickles added their element, turning these ingredients into something really special. My only thought other than “This is excellent” was that a better grade of cheese would make this po’ boy even better. The cheese resembled the Boar’s Head variety, and alone had an unremarkable taste. Perhaps a goat cheese, or a sharp cheddar. But, minor quibble aside, I would without hesitation enjoy a regular appointment at Mahony’s.

Oh yes, the name. Peacemaker. You might be wondering about that. I asked a waitress and she told me that she had heard it was because when musicians would stay out late at night playing and doing other things that happen at night they would stop by Mahony’s and take one home as a peace offering to their significant other, thereby keeping the peace, at least as long as that po’ boy lasted.

The food is Hot and Hot in Birmingham

Whenever I am in Birmingham, Alabama, Highlands Bar and Grill is on my agenda. And my most recent visit to “The Magic City” was no exception. In fact, I dined at Highlands twice in May, and, as always, loved it.

Setting the stage (Photo courtesy of Hot and Hot Fish Club)

Setting the stage (Photo courtesy of Hot and Hot Fish Club)

But this time I added another restaurant to the schedule, a place I have had on my list for years but for whatever reason – and the main reason is Highlands Bar and Grill – never entered: Hot and Hot Fish Club. (Chris Hastings, the restaurant’s chef and co-owner, was named best chef in the South in 2012 by the James Beard Foundation, and I’ve long admired his support of Alabama agriculture.)

My decision to visit Hot and Hot was made at the last minute, and it was a Saturday, and I was arriving around 8:30, but I was dining solo and scored a seat at the end of the bar, near the kitchen door. Which was fine with me, because I like to see how people move in a restaurant, how the food flows. The bartender set my place and I looked at the cocktail list and the wine board, settling on a glass of Riesling.

The restaurant was buzzing, full, loud. People were waiting near the front door for a table, and the tables on the patio were full. After a first taste of my wine I walked through the main dining room, where one is treated to a view of an open kitchen. Men and women and a few teen-agers were talking and drinking and eating at their tables, and all of the places at the chef’s counter were occupied. A warm room, inviting.

Ravioli and cheese and chicken ... and corn

Ravioli and cheese and chicken … and corn

Back at the bar, I enjoyed my wine and the bartender handed me the menu. I quickly homed in on the ravioli as my first course. Good choice. The pasta was filled with farmer’s cheese and chicken, and the plate was completed with summer squash (including a blossom), English peas, and spring onions. And, in what would be a welcome and delicious leitmotif that evening, the ravioli was bathed in a sweet corn broth. (Corn is what I am talking about when I write “leitmotif”. Early corn, sweet, amazingly flavorful. It featured in every plate.) This first course was perfect. Vegetables cooked to point, or the point I like: right below crisp, giving a sublime mouthfeel. The ravioli was as thin as paper. The cheese, firm and mild, crossed the membrane in a delicate manner. Ideal opening.

Duck, two ways. And, more corn.

Duck, two ways. And, more corn.

Next: Pan-seared Duck Breast and Crispy Confit. (I love duck; in fact, one of my favorite breakfasts in memory is the morning I cooked two breasts for breakfast. Duck, with Champagne. It was a Sunday, and the day began well.)

The duck at Hot and Hot was as it should be: the breast pink, the confit crisp and dense. The plate contained, continuing the theme, corn, Anson Mills grits, Alabama strawberries, pecans and arugula. (I don’t know where Chris Hastings got that corn, because I failed to ask, but I hope many more people have the chance to eat it. It is the best corn I have had in about five years.) Plates such as this one sing, all of the flavors and textures communicating, harmonizing, and for a little while on that stool at the bar I was completely happy.

I often decline to order dessert. I consider wine to be my dessert. Or I have cheese. But this time I was intrigued by something on the menu: Sweet Corn and Lemon Bread Pudding with Benne Seed Brittle, Corn Cream, and Lemon Ice Cream. Put simply, it was the highlight of the evening. And that’s saying a lot.

A bread pudding for the ages.

A bread pudding for the ages.

Think moist and dense bread pudding. And, once again, think corn. Sweet corn. The corn cream I slathered on the bread pudding, and I made sure to slide a few of the kernels on each spoonful of bread pudding, because that corn was amazing. And the bread pudding … I once had a superb bread pudding in Portland that featured pigeon. I remember thinking during that meal that this was “the” bread pudding. But at Hot and Hot Fish Club I had another great one. Warm, not too sweet, slightly crisp exterior. Eating two portions would not have been out of the question. I could have done without the ice cream and the brittle; to my palate they were too sweet. But I think I am being too harsh. I imagine most people would not have a problem with the sweetness.

Jason's Corn 'n Oil

Jason’s Corn ‘n Oil

Speaking of the bar, the man working behind it and bringing me my food and drink that night is an exemplar of his profession. His name is William Hamrick, and he mixes and pours with grace and care. He answered my questions forthrightly, and when I ordered the bread pudding for dessert he made me the best libation I have had in a long while, saying they would pair perfectly. He called it Jason’s Corn n’ Oil, and it was made with John D. Taylor Velvet Falernum. You take 2 ounces of the Falernum, ¾ ounces of Gosling’s Black Seal Rum, and ¾ ounces of fresh lemon juice. Shake. Serve over crushed ice and garnish with a lemon peel. It was delicious. It seemed to me that the dessert and drink were created together one night in a divine session of inspiration. Mr. Hamrick wrote the recipe down for me. You can see it below. And you should make this drink tonight.

One for the books

One for the books, courtesy of William Hamrick

After a bit of conversation with a couple from Atlanta sitting next to me, and a few more words with Mr. Hamrick, I left Hot and Hot Fish Club and headed up the road. I shall return, though, and if a table isn’t available I’ll be more than happy at that bar.

Very Good Chocolate Cake (Thank you, Ms. Lewis)

Whenever I make “the cake” I am invariably met with something along the lines of what Angela uttered on first tasting a piece of it: That’s the best cake I have ever had.

Well, I will say it is among the five best cakes I have ever had, and it very well could, on any given day, indeed be the best.

A cake with a fine and beloved pedigree

A cake with a fine and beloved pedigree

Coffee and chocolate

Coffee and chocolate

I made one last night, my mother assisting (she had never made this one, and wanted to learn the recipe). I call it “the cake” for two reason. One, because it is my favorite cake to make. It is delicious. And because the recipe comes to us from one of my favorite cooks and chefs of all time: Edna Lewis.

A Grande Dame of American Cooking

A Grande Dame (Estate of Edna Lewis)

Ms. Lewis was born in Virginia and left this life in Georgia, in 2006, at 89, after spending years in New York (where in 1949 she helped found Café Nicholson, which for a time was “the” place to eat, according to frequent diners Truman Capote, Tennessee Williams, Gore Vidal, Marlene Dietrich, and Richard Avedon, among many others, famous and not so famous).

After New York, Ms. Lewis headed back home, to the South, making stops to cook in, to name but two locales, Charleston and Chapel Hill.

She was quoted in a 1989 interview with The New York Times thusly: “As a child in Virginia I thought all food tasted delicious. After growing up, I didn’t think food tasted the same, so it has been my lifelong effort to try and recapture those good flavors of the past.”

She made people very happy (Estate of Edna Lewis)

She made people very happy (Estate of Edna Lewis)

Here is her recipe for a cake with so much more than merely good flavors. It is found in The Gift of Southern Cooking (Knopf, 2003), which Ms. Lewis co-authored with Chef Scott Peacock. You should make this cake, and you should learn as much about Edna Lewis as you can.

Sitting pretty

Sitting pretty

Very Good Chocolate Cake

Ingredients

THE CAKE

2 cups granulated sugar; 
1 1/2 cups cake flour; 
1/2 teaspoon salt
; 3/4 teaspoon baking soda
; 1 cup double-strength brewed coffee
; 4 ounces unsweetened chocolate, finely chopped; 
2 eggs, at room temperature; 
1/2 cup vegetable oil; 
1/2 cup sour cream, at room temperature; 
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

THE FROSTING

1 cup heavy cream
; 8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter cut into 1/2-inch pieces; 
1/3 cup granulated sugar; 
1/4 teaspoon salt; 
1 pound semisweet chocolate, finely chopped; 
1/4 cup hot double-strength brewed coffee; 
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Preparation

Preheat oven to 325 degrees Fahrenheit.

To make the cake: Sift together sugar, flour, salt, and baking soda in a bowl. Pour the hot coffee over the finely chopped chocolate, and allow chocolate to melt completely.

In a separate bowl, whisk together until well blended eggs and vegetable oil, followed by the sour cream, vanilla, and coffee-chocolate mixture. Stir this liquid mixture into the dry ingredients by thirds, stirring well after each addition until completely blended. Divide the batter evenly between two buttered and floured parchment-lined 9-inch cake pans. Drop each cake pan once onto the counter from a height of 3 inches, to remove any large air pockets, which could cause holes or tunnels in the baked cake layers. Bake in the preheated oven for 30-40 minutes, until the cake springs back slightly when gently tapped in the center or a cake tester inserted in the center comes out clean. Remove immediately to cooling racks, and allow to rest for 5 minutes before turning out of the pans.

To make the frosting: Heat the cream, butter, sugar, and salt in a heavy saucepan until the butter is melted. Add the chocolate and cook over very low heat, stirring constantly, just until the chocolate is melted and the mixture is smooth. Remove from heat and blend in coffee and vanilla. Transfer frosting to a bowl to cool, stirring occasionally, until it is of a spreading consistency – about 1 hour, depending on the temperature of the kitchen. (If your kitchen is very warm, move the frosting to a cooler area to cool and thicken, but do not refrigerate or chill over ice water. Chocolate and butter solidify at different temperatures, and harsh chilling could cause the frosting to separate and turn grainy.)

To assemble the cake: When the frosting is of a spreading consistency and the cake layers are completely cooled, put one cake layer on a serving platter, bottom side up, and frost the surface thickly. Top with the other layer, bottom side down, and frost the top and sides. For best results, allow the cake to sit for 2 or more hours before slicing. Store, covered, at room temperature.

NOTE: For the richest, darkest frosting possible, resist the urge to whisk or beat to cool faster. Excessive stirring incorporates air, which will cool and set the frosting more quickly, but will also dilute its dark color and flavor. And because it takes a little while to cool to the proper consistency, have all of the ingredients ready and make the frosting as soon as the cake layers are in the oven to bake.

© 2024 Mise en Place

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑