Cast Iron Skillet

Not far from Joe’s Mountain Gardens in Celo is Canton, a mill town that is home to Sunburst Trout Farm (see Sources, page 264), where Sally Eason raises delicate pink trout in the pure water that rushes down Cold Mountain. If a campfire is not in your immediate future but you have some sparkling fresh trout, this works well on the stovetop, too. Serve it with wilted ramps (page 27) or other greens.

Memphis in May is a barbecue competition that takes place the third weekend of May at Tom Lee Park on the Mississippi River. It is the largest pork cookoff in the world and is often called “The Super Bowl of Swine.” The Big Bob Gibson Competition Cooking Team has attended this contest since 1997 and to date we have never finished out of the top ten. We’ve won the pork shoulder category six times, won first place in sauce three times, and won the Grand Championship twice. But it is not our success in the competition that stirs the fondest memories of this event; it is the time spent with friends and family while enjoying the relaxing atmosphere. It is a tradition for us to put on a big feed the Friday night before the most serious part of the competition begins. Our menu changes year to year but almost always includes pork tenderloin, bean salad, homemade pies, and this stacked cornbread vegetable salsa salad. I am not sure where this recipe originally came from, but my mother-in-law, Carolyn McLemore, and her friend Joyce Terry always treat us to a big batch at this annual event. It’s good and it goes really well with smoked pork tenderloin.

This is a sandwich that was so good we had to take it off the menu! Conceptually similar to a cheese steak, it was offered as a pressed sandwich, and when too many people ordered it at once, we had a traffic jam on our premises. So while you can no longer find it at ’wichcraft, you can make it for yourself. Flank steak is wonderfully easy to work with because it’s lean—there’s no waste, and it has an excellent texture for braising. There are many schools of thought about the right wine to cook with. Some advocate cooking with the best wine, or at least a wine that you would want to drink; others believe in using the cheapest wine available. We suggest going with the wine that you can afford to use for cooking or the one you have lying around. At home, whenever he has some leftover red wine at the end of a meal, if he doesn’t drink it the next day, Sisha puts it in a container in the freezer. He keeps adding to that container, and when he needs wine for braising, there it is. The blend is never the same twice—and always good.

This sandwich was developed through our Fresh Air Fund Internship Program by three industrious and talented teens. See page 106 for the story behind the sandwich.

Please do not let the bad bologna sandwiches of your youth deter you from trying this sandwich. Good mortadella is silky, flavorful, and because it doesn’t require aging, usually far more affordable than most artisanal sandwich meats. Here, we balance the smooth texture and rich taste of mortadella with the bitterness of grilled radicchio. The Pistachio Vinaigrette (page 181) is a nod to the classic use of pistachios embedded in the meat.

In steak sandwiches, the meat is usually paired with onions, cheese, or similarly rich flavors. We wanted something lighter and brighter, something, say, that a person might opt for at lunchtime without needing to nap afterwards. And so we use fresh ginger (which we julienne like a vegetable rather than shred, mince, grate, or sprinkle as a spice) and cucumber, both very refreshing. While Black Chile Mayonnaise (page 177) does add a touch of richness, this is still a very light red meat sandwich.

We created this for the opening of our Las Vegas store, knowing that it would be the perfect sandwich to have after a night of Vegas-style fun. The richness of both the steak and the eggs is balanced by the acidity and savoriness of the vinaigrette used to season the mushrooms.

This open-faced sandwich is similar in many ways to a Spanish tortilla. It’s best made in really well-seasoned cast-iron skillets that were passed down from your grandmother. And there’s a great side benefit: the dish is perfect for brunch guests, since it looks so good (and thus makes you look so good) when you’re serving it!

Working in a restaurant affords me the opportunity to learn the food cultures of many of my colleagues, who often bring home cooking to share for lunch. When that home cooking is Mexican, the dishes are sometimes flavored with chipotles or another chile, and I’ve come to crave that little kiss of heat, even in dessert. The gentle kick in the chocolate soup is tamed by the soothing chocolate-coconut foam.

Ripe figs are delicious right off the tree, but in this recipe, I’m applying a touch of heat just to make them that much more tender.

This burger was a staple on Mesa Grill’s lunchtime menu for years and it still makes a guest appearance from time to time. Tuna is a perfect choice for an alternative burger as its substantial meatiness really emulates that of beef. It also stands up to aggressive seasonings and is the perfect base for the slightly sweet, slightly tangy, slightly spicy pineapple-mustard glaze. The relish isn’t like anything you’ll get at a hot-dog stand; dill pickles, peppery poblano chiles, and tart lime juice make for a fresh, not sweet, crunchy relish.

The patty melt first appeared on the American diner scene in the 1940s and is still a favorite more than sixty years later. Take a good look at what it is—meat and cheese pressed between slices of buttered bread—and you might wonder: Was the patty melt America’s first panini? As a rule, my perfect burger consists of a thicker patty served on a soft roll, but everyone needs to break the rules, even their own, once in a while. This patty melt, with its sophisticated jam-like onion relish and buttery Gruyère cheese, makes breaking the rules extra delicious.

Louisiana, and in particular the city of New Orleans, is known for its amazing food. One technique that the local chefs there have mastered is blackening, a method by which a piece of chicken, fish, or steak is coated in a peppery crust and quickly cooked over very high heat to—well—blacken the exterior. The Louisiana burger applies this method to a burger. (If you don’t want to take it all the way to black, you can do something called “bronzing,” which follows the same principle as blackening but does so to a lesser degree of darkness.) Blackening is best done in a cast-iron pan. I based the condiment for this burger on the classic New Orleans rémoulade sauce; it incorporates so many of the things that I use on my burgers—such as mustard, hot sauce, mayonnaise, and pickles (sour cornichons, here)—into one delicious spread.