Cast Iron Skillet

Crusty fried potatoes are as popular in northeastern Italy as they are in the United States. This Trieste version is as delicious as any I have ever tasted. You will get best results using a nonstick or cast-iron pan, browning and turning the potatoes over and over, so the caramelization is dispersed throughout. Use the timing here as a guideline, but follow your own tastes to create just the degree of crustiness you love.

Corn on a stick? Did somebody say big-kid treat? Don’t forget the mayo: you’ll need to make the chile powder and cayenne stick. No grill? No worries, you can go the old-school route with a hot cast-iron skillet.

GINA Forget calling up the delivery guy: making pizza is easier than you’d think, and this recipe is perfect for movie watching. I love this pizza because it has my favorite ingredients, chicken and spinach, right on top. You can slice large tomatoes if you like, but I prefer sweet and juicy red and yellow grape tomatoes. Not many people think of the yellow tomatoes, but they add extra color and taste great. PAT Most guys prefer any kind of pig on a pizza, including me, but Gina introduced me to this recipe, and that flavor blast of garlic and red pepper won me over. Make one of these and cuddle up on the couch together.

You can’t have collard greens without corn bread, and these bite-sized corncob-shaped sticks are a cute way to serve them. You can also bake the batter in a 9-inch cast-iron skillet—just cook the vegetables in the same skillet you’d like to bake the bread in.

This is a very rustic dish, the meat and potatoes redolent with rosemary and garlic and bathed in butter and pork fat. But as rich as all of that sounds, the best part might be the front legs that end up crispy and delicious; as you gnaw the bones, you’ll be reminded more than a little of fried chicken, and that’s never a bad thing. I portion out the rabbit so that the darker pieces get a little more cooking and the loin receives nothing more than a quick sear. As with Braised Rabbit Paws with Radiatore (page 89), make sure you ask the butcher for the smaller and more tender fryers, not roasters.

The much-maligned mélange gets its name from the undeserved yet pervasive bad reps held by each of the three principal ingredients in this delectable side: turnips, Brussels sprouts, and chestnuts. But I guarantee you’ll find that baby turnips are sweet and juicy and bear no resemblance to the bitter root vegetable you think you know. Gently sautéing wedges of fresh Brussels sprouts renders them crisp-tender and nutty, while browning chestnuts in a cast-iron pan makes removing their skins a snap, giving you unfettered access to the earthiness inside. Pork jowls, as the name implies, are pig cheeks. When cured, jowls become guanciale; braised, they offer amazing versatility and can then be sautéed, grilled, or added to soups. Like pork belly, jowls have tons of flavor and are very rich. I find that braising helps tame them a bit and makes the cut a little less intense. You’ll probably need to special order this cut from your butcher, but it’s worth it. You’ll need to start this recipe one day ahead.

When pineapple caramelizes, whether on the grill or in the oven, its bright, tart flavor mellows to something warm and sweet—a neat trick that has long been the calling card of traditional pineapple upside-down cake. My grandmother’s version, with its canned pineapple rings, was one of my dad’s all-time favorite sweets. It’s one of mine, too, but when I make it, I start with freshly grilled pineapple to double the caramelization effect and add a splash of bourbon to drive the point home.

Salted watermelon, cornbread, and molasses. You don’t have to look far to see how much Southerners like to mix their sweet with their salty. This summery salad, featuring Balsamic-glazed grilled peaches and shaved country ham tossed with fresh herbs and creamy goat cheese, is an elegant tribute to this unendingly popular flavor combination. For real Southern flavor, use sticky-sweet Georgia peaches.

Granny Foster used to make this buttery treat with the sweetest summer corn. I make mine with corn and squash. She would scrape or “milk” the cobs with the back of a knife to get out all the starchy liquid, thus thickening the cooking liquid without diluting the bright corn flavor.

As a kid, one of the things I looked forward to each fall was the arrival of the West Tennessee State Fair, which was held in Madison, my home county. Like all fairs, this one was chock-full of good, greasy things to eat, but I happily skipped past the corn dogs, turkey legs, and pulled pig in favor of the juicy griddle-fried hamburgers that flew like hotcakes from a booth lined with long, low benches. I top my version with tangy, creamy Pimiento Cheese for extra Southern flavor. If you don’t have a griddle, a cast-iron skillet will work just fine.

Forget the grill; Southerners have been pan-searing steak in cast-iron skillets since what seems like the beginning of time. That’s true enough in my family, where “let’s fix a steak” translates directly to “put the skillet on.” According to my brother-in-law, Pat, the best way to eat said pan-seared steak is hot out of the skillet with a fat knob of butter melting away on top. He’s right, of course, and this dish—embellished with a profusion of fresh green herbs—is for him.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Granny Foster made the best fried chicken in the world—salty and golden brown with a crackly crust that gave way to meat as moist and tender as could be. The secret is the overnight brine of water, salt, and spices that drives extra moisture and flavor into the meat, where they are locked in during the cooking process.

Despite its name, this traditional shrimp dish isn’t so much barbecue as a savory, saucy stew. It gets its full-bodied flavor from Worcestershire sauce and dark beer, and a dose of fresh lemon gives it a bright, clean finish.

Every Southern cook has his or her own version of this stratalike breakfast soufflé, but I’m willing to bet that each and every one begins with white sandwich bread. In the past, I’ve tried to fancy it up using challah or brioche or some other bread, but it was never quite as good. I first had this particular variation on a visit to Meridian, Mississippi, catering my cousin’s rehearsal dinner. My crew and I were working so hard we hadn’t even stopped to eat. One of the local ladies, Mott, brought us this soufflé, ready to bake. Hot out of the oven, it was utterly delicious. Note that it should be prepared the night before, allowed to soak overnight, and baked the following morning.

Red-eye gravy—which for most Southerners is the only acceptable sauce for country ham—is a savory and slightly bitter mixture of black coffee and the pan drippings left behind from frying country ham. I’m not sure how the coffee first made its way into the pan, but I like to imagine it was one of those happy accidents born of necessity. It rings true, anyway, because Southerners love gravy so much that they will find a way to eke some out of a greasy pan no matter what. I lighten my version of this quintessentially Southern dish with a bright shock of fresh, green asparagus, which plays perfectly off the saltiness of the red-eye gravy and the richness of the runny egg yolks.

A good hash is like soup: you can toss together all the odds and ends from your fridge and pantry and end up with something rustic and hearty that is much more than the sum of its parts.