Southern

A few hours in a Dutch oven reduce pork shanks, which come from the lower part of the pig’s leg, to a silky and robustly flavored delicacy. Serve on top of Creamy Cheese Grits (page 208).

This is serious, slow-cooked Southern barbecue—the kind on which pit-masters stake their reputation—in miniature. The pork shoulder, the cut used here, is the entire front leg and shoulder from a hog, meaning it’s a fairly large piece of meat. It’s often broken up into two cuts: the upper half of the shoulder, also called the Boston butt or pork butt, and the lower, arm-half portion, which is also (rather sweetly) called the picnic ham or shoulder. For this preparation, though, ask your butcher or farmer for the whole shoulder with the bone in and skin on. It is the best you can make at home short of going whole hog (literally), digging your own pit, and basting the thing with a rag mop. To make it, you will need access to aged hickory wood, a wood-fired grill with a hood, and, if your grill is small, a secondary grill for heating coals—or read up on digging that pit. Preparing the pig is an all-day party in itself, so set aside plenty of time for cooking and tending the fire, not to mention a cooler full of beer or (my dad’s choice) a bottle of Jack Daniel’s for the pit-master.

This dish—an adaptation of an Anne Willan recipe I used to make at the Soho Charcuterie—is what my dad most often requested when I came home to visit. Rillettes are a classic French preparation similar to pâté that are made by slow-cooking fatty meat until it falls apart, packing the meat in the rendered fat, and allowing it to congeal. The resulting rough spread pairs elegantly with Rosemary Cheese Crackers (page 8) or Cornbread Toasts (page 18), grainy mustard, and pickles. The most important thing to keep in mind is that rillettes need to cook very slowly at a low, steady temperature, so make sure the cooking liquid doesn’t boil once you put the dish in the oven.

Memphis is known for its dry-rubbed barbecued ribs, which are all about intense spices and the unadorned texture of low-and-slow-cooked meat. The two-step cooking process I use here—the meat is first slow-cooked in the oven, then finished over a hot grill—ensures succulent, crispy-edged, tender ribs every time, rendering sauce fully optional. Even so, sauce person that I am, I usually can’t help myself from cooking the meat in beer and basting it with vinegar-based barbecue sauce for a little added flavor and tang. You can try making these ribs with and without the sauce and decide for yourself. Either way, you’ll need to let the ribs marinate for at least two or three hours before cooking.

The assertive flavors of coffee, molasses, and balsamic vinegar meld and mellow in this sophisticated dish that is just the thing for winter entertaining. It is best served with simple sides, such as Mess o’ Greens (page 245) and Sweet Potato Spoon Bread (page 214), that enhance rather than distract from the sweet, rich molasses flavor of the pork.

I often serve this dish when I have guests because it makes for such easy entertaining—something you’d never know from the complex combination of flavors that emerges as the red wine and orange-spiked pepper jelly melt into a sweet and spicy glaze over the heat of the grill. Don’t forget to budget at least two hours of marinating time before firing up the grill.

Guinea hens are birds, related to pheasants, and are an excellent and highly flavorful alternative to chicken. Because they’re smaller—usually two or three pounds—even whole birds cook quickly and yield just the right amount of meat for one meal. If you can’t find guinea hen, a small chicken will do the trick nicely.

For an easy weeknight indulgence that is as crispy, crunchy, and succulent as fried chicken, make these skillet-sautéed pork chops. The key here is to pound the pork chops until they are very thin—sort of like German schnitzel—or buy them thinly sliced. (They can usually be found in the prepackaged section of your grocery’s meat department; in the South, they are labeled “breakfast chops.”)

One of the things I love most about Southern food is how it is constantly evolving, and these days that change has a lot to do with the culinary traditions of recent immigrants from Mexico, Cuba, and Central and South America. I first learned how to make mole from my friend Saul, after I tried his rendition at one of my favorite Durham restaurants, Nana’s, and persuaded him to teach me how to make it myself. The South’s favorite game bird is smothered in this rich, spicy Mexican sauce infused with dark chocolate and spices, thickened with ground seeds and nuts, and spiked with numerous chiles, exemplifying the old-yet-new trend. The result is incredibly complex and distinctive. You will have extra mole, so give it a try on other dishes, like eggs, grilled chicken, or steak.

This crispy fried quail is for anyone whose favorite part of fried chicken is the crust. Because quail are so small, you get a satisfyingly high crust-to-meat ratio—but the meat itself is flavorful enough to stand up to all that crust. I drape my version in a veil of creamy, herb-flecked pan gravy.

I think people often pressure themselves to put on a big, fancy spread for the holidays—but I’m all for keeping things simple, which is no problem if you start with this sticky, tangy barbecued turkey. Turning the holidays into a cookout sets such a casual, welcoming tone that you can’t help but take it easy and have a good time. I made this turkey the year Martha Stewart joined us for Thanksgiving, and it was such a big hit that we’ve taken to making it all year round. Be sure to plan ahead to allow for at least six hours of marinating time.

Every Thanksgiving, my friend Carl, who is also a pastor, makes his deep-fried turkey for some of the women in his church. Using a turkey fryer frees up the oven to make lots of sides, stuffing, and pies. Carl seasons his turkey with plenty of cayenne pepper, so much that it made me nervous the first time I saw him make it. But I shouldn’t have worried—it came out perfectly browned and crisp, with just a hint of heat. Be sure to follow the manufacturer’s instructions for your fryer and get a turkey that will fit easily in the fryer, no more than fourteen pounds. It is safest to cook this outside.

The wonderful contrast between buttery, almost confited duck legs and crispy, skillet-fried breast is worth the little bit of extra effort this dish requires. Add a bottle of Syrah or Pinot Noir and a few easy sides, like a simple green salad and Buttermilk Mashed Creamers (page 238), and you’ve got the makings of an elegant dinner party.

This is not your typical pea-and-carrot-laden pot pie. Inspired by fall flavors, this sophisticated version is loaded with butternut squash, oyster and chanterelle mushrooms, and fresh sage—all tucked under a layer of golden, flaky puff pastry.

I grew up on this velvety stew of shredded chicken and puffy dumplings. Not only is it comforting and delicious, but, because it stretches a little meat a long way using just a few ingredients, it is yet another example of Southern culinary resourcefulness.

This exotically spiced curry of chicken, tomatoes, peppers, dried fruit, and nuts is proof of Southern food’s cosmopolitan roots. Served with steamed rice, slivered almonds, and fresh parsley, it is wonderfully bone-warming and fragrant.

The inspiration for this dish came from Paula Wolfert’s excellent version of “chicken under a brick,” and from my brand-new, heavy-bottomed cast-iron skillet. Chicken under a brick—what Wolfert calls Italian fried chicken—is a traditional Tuscan preparation in which chicken is weighted with a clay slab over dry heat. The weight of the slab drives the juices and rendered fat back into the chicken as it cooks, resulting in succulent meat with crackly, golden-brown skin. Well, I soon put two and two together, and chicken under a skillet was born. Just think of it as Southern fried chicken’s long-lost Italian cousin. Note that you’ll want to let the meat marinate for several hours prior to cooking to get the big flavors that make this simple dish shine.

The two-step cooking process here yields perfectly moist and flavorful results: First, you put a nice sear on the chicken in a skillet. Next, you finish it off in the oven, slow-cooking it in a wonderful pot likker of seasonal vegetables and country ham. That’s it. Once you get the hang of this basic method, you can use it to make endless variations.

This dish contains all the flavor and crunch you expect from fried chicken, but with all the health benefits of using boneless, skinless chicken breast. Plus, you get bonus points for scattering the cutlets over a tender arugula salad bursting with fresh herbs and drizzled with tarragon-infused Buttermilk Green Goddess Dressing.