Vegan

There’s an ancient pear tree at the edge of Mama’s driveway. The pears have thick green skin, are very aromatic, and have an intense pear flavor. Most certainly a now-nameless heirloom variety, they appear to be similar to an Anjou or a Bartlett. Remember the canned pears often served with cottage cheese in the school cafeteria? Those are Bartlett pears. Anjou pears are distinctive in that they remain green even when fully ripe. Meme and Dede preserved the pears from the yard in quart containers packed in heavy syrup. Meme served them chilled for dessert and topped with grated Cheddar cheese for “salad.” One of our favorite treats was the deep-fried, half-moon-shaped pies she made with pureed pears and biscuit dough.

Dede loved pickled peaches and all manner of preserves. Every year, there was a garden of fruits and vegetables. In the summer, my family would put up quart upon quart of green beans, peaches, and canned tomatoes, and in the fall, golden pears in syrup and muscadine preserves. He’d seal the lids tightly with his strong hands and place them in rows on shelves in the basement. The name of this recipe reminds me of the tongue twister, “Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.” Dede would often recite similar silly phrases, play word games, and come up with whimsical names for foods: “cat head” was a large biscuit. “Wasp’s nest” was loaf bread. “Floppy motus” was gravy. And Jell-O was appropriately called “nervous pudding.”

When I see Jonagold apples at the market, I buy them, always thinking of my sister, Jona. My parents got a little creative with her name. It’s feminine for John, my father’s name. A blend between Jonathan and Golden Delicious, Jonagold apples are great for apple butter and applesauce. They have a tendency to soften in the refrigerator, so they are best used shortly after harvest.

Muscadines are wild American grapes native to the Southeast. Scuppernongs are a variety of muscadines. Both grapes have a tough, thick skin that ranges in color from deep purple to greenish bronze. There are scuppernong and Muscadine arbors more than fifty years old at my family’s home. The thick branches are gnarled and twisted, forming a large canopy instead of growing in a row like traditional grapes. Dede made muscadine wine and stored it in the basement. It was unfiltered and quite sweet. We recently found a bottle, at least twelve years old, that had aged and mellowed to a honey liqueur. The wine-making ended when Dede passed away, but Meme and Mama have always made jelly from the copious amounts of fruit. I think I was in first grade when I had my first taste of store-bought jelly. It was the ubiquitous Concord grape jelly of childhood, and I remember not liking it. I had never had jelly before that wasn’t homemade. My friend’s mother very likely thought I was either a complete brat or a complete hick. As children, my sister and I would stand for hours at the arbor, using both hands and mechanically eating the fruit like locusts. We’d squeeze the fruit into our mouths and spit out the seeds and bitter skins. Once, I reached into the arbor to pick a greenish globe and just as my fingers started to close on the fruit, it moved. My scuppernong was the head of a green snake. Scared out of my wits, I ran screaming into the house. Meme’s constant reminder about staying out of the bushes because of snakes had finally come true.

There’s an incredible cookware store in Paris called Dehillerin. When I lived in France as a poor student, I would scrimp and save so I could buy one copper pot a year. Even though times eventually became richer, I still stick to my rule of one pot a year. One summer at La Varenne, after many marathon sessions making preserves, I decided my one purchase would be a copper confiture pot. This special French pot is designed specifically for making jams and jellies. It is large and wide at the rim, providing a large surface area, which allows a mixture to evaporate and thicken quickly during cooking. Trouble was, I was purchasing this mammoth pot on my way home to the U.S. after many months in France; I had no room for it in my luggage. I’m not certain whether they would now consider it a possible weapon, but that summer I flew home with my shiny new confiture pot saddled snugly in my lap.

Blueberries bring to mind fingers stained purple-blue, fruity pies and cobblers, and warm, fresh-from-the-oven muffins. When buying blueberries, look for plump, firm, fresh berries that are a light, powdery, blue-gray. If refrigerated, fresh blueberries will keep for up to three weeks. When blueberries are in season, freeze them in a single layer on a rimmed baking sheet. Once they are frozen solid, transfer to a freezer-safe container. This is a basic formula for making jam. I’ve added a small amount of candied ginger at the end. The underlying ginger flavor is subtle, but it really complements the blueberry.

Many of the store-bought Creole seasonings are mostly salt, sometimes with added chemical preservatives and anticaking agents. This simple seasoning blend is a mixture of salt, pepper, and dried herbs and spices. How’s this for anticaking: shake the jar.

Almost every diner and “meat and three” establishment across the South has a jar of hot pepper vinegar on each and every table. A dash or so of this potent liquid on greens is a revelation. The longer the mixture sits, the more potent it becomes. It also makes a great gift. I prepare several batches with peppers from my garden and present them as hostess and Christmas gifts. Nothing says love like a little heat.

Dede always preferred to plant his corn patch in the fruitful black soil at the river’s edge. He taught me that when corn is ripe and ready to be picked, the silk at the top of the ear should be dark brown, almost black. It is not unusual to see people peeling back the husks in search of ears with perfect rows of kernels. Just take a peek to make sure the ear is full and free of worms, but keep the husk on to keep the corn moist and sweet. Do not bother with this recipe unless it is summer and you can make it with fresh corn and the best tomatoes, preferably heirloom. You will only be disappointed. Heirloom tomatoes, varieties passed down through generations by farmers and gardeners the world over, come in all shapes, sizes, colors, and tastes. If you cannot find heirlooms, this garnish would also be delicious with any ripe tomato from your garden or market.

I made this soup for Mama when I was in junior high. She had been going through a tough time and one day when she came home for lunch I had prepared a chilled cantaloupe soup out of Southern Living magazine. Even though I had always enjoyed cooking, I think that this slightly unusual soup caught her off guard. I wanted to make her feel better, and as it often does, homemade food made with love can make a dark day seem brighter.

Cornmeal gives this bread a subtle crispy crunch. For the best results, use the best-quality extra-virgin olive oil possible. If you really want to “gild the lily,” top the warm bread with a few curls of freshly shaved Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese.

Kale, collards, turnip greens, and mustard greens are dark leafy winter greens that are nutritional powerhouses and familiar friends on the Southern table. Look for brightly colored greens free of brown spots, yellowing edges, or limp leaves. Try flavorful seasonings such as smoked turkey or ham hock for the meat eaters and smoked salt or chipotle chiles for the vegetarians. I once demonstrated this recipe on a local morning TV show. Aunt Louise was watching and told Mama later, “She took those greens out of that pan just like they were done!” You won’t believe how fast they cook, either. The best way to clean greens is to fill a clean sink with cold water, add the greens, and swish them around. The dirt will fall to the bottom of the sink. Lift the greens out, drain the sink, and repeat until the water is clear and the greens are free of dirt and grit.

You simply won’t believe your mouth when you taste these greens. They smell like bacon, and taste a lot like bacon, but there is no bacon. The flavor comes from smoked salt. In its pure state, salt is a simple chemical compound, sodium chloride. There are many types of salt from all over the world that contain different elements and minerals. But things get really “fired up” when salt is smoked. The best ones are slowly smoked over a natural fire, often made of used oak barrels recycled from making wine. The smoke permeates the salt crystals, infusing them with a rich, distinct smoked taste, and transforms their color from a light toasty brown to deep amber. This ingredient adds a unique flavor to a wide range of dishes, including beef, pork, duck, chicken, and fish. I use it most often in Southern-style vegetables, to replicate that smoky taste evocative of hog jowl or bacon without the fat, and it is great for vegetarians. Other favorites that I prepare with smoked salt are black-eyed peas and butter beans. If you can’t find smoked salt (available online and at specialty markets), you have permission to use bacon.

This recipe uses slow-cooking technique to intensify the tomatoes’ flavor. It is a wonderful technique to remember in the heat of the summer during tomato season. This is an excellent alternative to the fresh tomato salad for Corn Soup with Tomato Garnish (page 230), but take a cue from fine French kitchens and fold the confit into scrambled eggs, toss it with salad greens or pasta, or place some on top of crisp grilled bread with chopped fresh herbs for a tasty hors d’oeuvre.

My grandparents had a garden each summer and fall. To keep the soil rich and fertile, Dede would alternate between the fields in front of the house and behind it and the property down at the river. He planted by the moon and used time-honored wisdom as his guide. Meme would drive the tractor and Dede would follow behind with the plow. Dede loved green beans and would plant rows and rows. When he passed away, Mama tucked a handful in his suit pocket as he lay in his coffin so he wouldn’t miss them. These green beans are fresh and flavorful—a favorite Southern vegetable made with a classic French technique. This dish is excellent served hot, at room temperature, or chilled. If making it ahead, do not add the vinegar until the last moment or it will cause the beans to look mottled and green like hunter’s camouflage.

Shirley Corriher is a world-renowned food scientist who happens to live in Atlanta, Georgia. Everyone from the elves at the cookie company to the late Julia Child has called her to ask, “why?” Her detailed explanations help cooks understand why certain things happen in the kitchen, which liberates the cook from the recipe (to a certain extent). Shirley shows in this recipe how green vegetables remain bright green if not overcooked (see page 196). She also demonstrates how lemon zest will give a fresh lemon taste without the acidity of the lemon juice, which will turn cooked green vegetables, as she says, “yucky army drab.”

The aroma of the basil when combined with the green beans is vibrant and intoxicating. This dish is almost like a deconstructed pesto without the cheese, or a Southern version of green beans amandine, a once-elegant side dish, that in the 1970s became a sad image of itself, banished to cafeterias and dining halls.

San Marzano tomatoes are grown in the shadow of Mount Vesuvius, southeast of Naples. The highly fertile volcanic soil of the San Marzano Valley, coupled with lots of sunshine and a benevolent Mediterranean climate, adds up to tomato heaven. The San Marzano tomato is a long, thin, plum-shaped variety known for its low acidity and earthy, intense tomato flavor. Except during summer, when fresh tomatoes are at their best, a good canned variety is a better choice. Canned San Marzano tomatoes are one of the few canned products that chefs otherwise fixated on local, fresh produce will use.

My mother-in-law is a wonderful woman, very sweet, kind, and generous. Her late husband was the cook in the family, and even she admits she is not much of a cook. She experienced a little culinary serendipity when sauteing okra one night. She put a little too much oil in the pan, so she added a bit of cornmeal to soak up the excess oil. It was wonderful, a modified version of fried okra that is not only somewhat healthier than deep-fried okra, but also less labor-intensive. Maybe she is just bluffing about not being a cook, after all.

People love okra, or they hate it. Those who hate it think it is slimy. There are a couple of techniques that prevent okra from becoming too slimy. First and foremost, don’t overcook it. When okra is cooked to just tender, it is fresh and crisp, not “ropy.” The other technique is to cook okra with an acid. This recipe uses both tomato and a bit of red wine.