Buttermilk

You can use any kind of beer in this recipe, as both light and dark brews add subtle flavors that will complement the cheese.

After struan, wild rice and onion bread was the most popular bread at Brother Juniper’s Bakery, and a version of this recipe appears in my first book, Brother Juniper’s Bread Book. The recipe calls for wild rice, but it can also be made with brown rice or a combination of wild and brown rice, or any other cooked grain. At Brother Juniper’s, during the holiday season we even added parsley, sage, rosemary, thyme, garlic powder, and black pepper, which made for a wonderful bread for stuffing turkey. Note that it only takes about 1/4 cup of uncooked wild rice to make 1 cup (6 oz, by weight) of cooked wild rice; still, if you’re going to cook wild rice especially for this recipe, you might as well make a bigger batch and freeze 1-cup packets for future use—or have it with dinner! This new version uses the overnight fermentation method. The yeast is added directly to the bowl, not rehydrated with the warm water and buttermilk. You can use either dried or fresh onions, and you can form the loaves into any size or shape. Dried onions are about one-tenth the weight of fresh onions and will absorb water from the dough, while fresh onions will leach moisture back into the dough. If you use dried onions, don’t rehydrate them before adding them to the dough, but do be aware that you may have to add an extra 2 to 4 tablespoons (1 to 2 oz) of water while mixing.

Every book I write has yet another variation of this soft, enriched multigrain loaf, my all-time favorite bread. The name comes from western Scotland, probably the town called Struanmoor, on the Isle of Skye, and also from a Gaelic clan name that means “a convergence of streams.” It was originally conceived of as a once-a-year harvest bread, incorporating whatever grains and seeds were available from the previous day’s harvest. Because the notion of a harvest bread offers a great deal of formula flexibility, I’m always looking for ways to push the struan envelope in search of better or easier versions. This recipe is very similar to the version I originally made at my bakery, Brother Juniper’s, and it was by far the most popular bread we made. This time around, I’ve taken advantage of the overnight, cold fermentation method to come up with a recipe that’s more flexible, particularly in regard to time options. This is the ultimate toasting bread. There’s something about the combination of ingredients that creates the perfect balance of flavor and texture when toasted and spread with butter, jam, or both. It also works beautifully as a sandwich bread with fillings like tuna salad, chicken salad, or egg salad. You can reduce the amount of sugar or honey if you prefer, but I like the sweetness of this bread and think the combination of brown sugar and honey enhances the toasting qualities. Still, sweetness is a very personal matter, so follow your heart and your palate.

I’m not fond of a garlic press—cleaning out all the holes is a chore. I prefer chopping garlic, but finely chopping or mashing large quantities to a paste (see page 72) can be tiresome. Recently I picked up my Microplane, a rasp-type grater, and grated the garlic directly over my saucepan. A couple of swipes back and forth and the garlic had disappeared into the pan below.

Roquefort is a blue-veined, smooth, and creamy French sheep’s milk cheese with a strong smell and very pronounced flavor. It is one of the oldest known cheeses, having been produced in the south of France for almost two thousand years. Only cheeses made according to specific standards of production and matured in caves near the village of Roquefort, France, may be called Roquefort. Similar blue cheeses to try in this dressing include American Maytag Blue, a regional cheese from South Carolina known as Clemson Blue, English Stilton, and Italian Gorgonzola. Try this on green salad, with chicken wings, or with raw or blanched vegetables as a great crudité dip.

Red velvet cake has inspired as many theories about its provenance as there are recipes in a Junior League cookbook. The question cannot be definitively answered. We do at least know why the cake is red: most red velvet cakes use acidic ingredients—buttermilk and vinegar—and cocoa, which contains a reddish pigment called anthocyanin. The acidic buttermilk reacts with the cocoa and actually makes this red pigment appear even redder. Somewhere along the line, someone decided the cake needed a little more rouge and added red food coloring. Some chefs try to gussy it up using beet juice or deconstruct it into something it’s not. My friend Angie Mosier, who is an incredible baker in her own right, once very aptly described red velvet cake as “the Dolly Parton of cakes—she’s a little bit tacky, but you love her.”

Cousin Michele makes this pie for her family each and every holiday. She learned it from Aunt Dolores and has taught her daughter, Nina, and son, Walker, to make it, too. The passing of recipes from one generation to the next is a thread of continuity, of family roots and place. Sweet memories in every bite, it’s a small but amazing bit of history. Let me just say I have never had “French” coconut pie in France. This pie is more along the lines of winning a blue ribbon at a country fair, not Le Cordon Bleu.

One of my favorite possessions is my grandmother’s cast-iron skillet. It’s more precious to me than the antique bone china that I also inherited. To think of all the fried chicken and cornbread it has held is amazing. Several years ago, I returned home to Georgia after living in New York City, and I carried my treasured skillet in a blanket on my lap practically the whole trip. It is almost like my sacred talisman. No one will dare touch it when we are cleaning up from dinner. If I leave the room, I return to a spotless kitchen with a dirty cast-iron skillet on the stovetop. No one wants the responsibility. It sounds severe, but a little fear is fine with me. When properly seasoned over time, cast iron develops a virtually nonstick surface that only improves with use. To clean cast-iron cookware, wash with a nonabrasive sponge and warm soapy water. Rinse it well. To prevent rust, make sure the piece is completely dry before you store it. As insurance, I usually place mine in a warm oven for a little while to fully dry out. Cast iron is great for baking cornbread, pan-frying, and sauteing. It is a little slow to heat up, but once it does, it heats evenly and stays hotter longer. Cast iron is inexpensive and can be found at hardware and cookware stores.

I could make a meal out of just buttered cornbread. Except perhaps for barbecue, cornbread is as close to religion in the South as any particular food gets. At the top of the list of cornbread sins is adding sugar. You will notice a complete lack of sugar in this cornbread recipe. Sugar is more often found in what is referred to derisively as “Yankee cornbread.” Adherents of white versus yellow cornmeal are like Methodists and Baptists: some think you’re going to hell if you follow one path and not the other. I am of the white cornmeal sect. The theory is that white corn was less hybridized and closer to the original grain than yellow. Plain white cornmeal can be surprisingly tricky to find, even in Atlanta; most of what lines the grocery store shelves is a mix or self-rising, which already contains the leavener that makes the cornmeal rise. Although yellow and white cornmeal are interchangeable, plain and self-rising cornmeal are not. Warming the skillet and bacon grease or butter in the oven prepares the skillet for baking and melts the fat. Most often, I use butter. I like to let it get just barely nutty brown on the edges. The brown flecks give the cornbread extra color and flavor.

Angel biscuits are lighter than traditional buttermilk biscuits because they contain yeast as well as the usual baking powder, baking soda, or both. The yeast gives them an extra push as well as another layer of flavor. Traditional biscuits can be intimidating to novice bakers, especially if first efforts yielded rock-hard results, not light and tender biscuits. The trio of leaveners protects even the worst of bakers from abject failure. This dough is also appealing because it can be prepared ahead of time and held in the refrigerator for three to five days (baking powder and baking soda alone would have long lost their “oomph”). This holding power lets you pinch off a bit of dough at a time to make a few fresh biscuits during the week. It’s also a heck of a lot better than the preservative- and chemical-laden tubes of refrigerated biscuit dough.

Meme most often made rolled biscuits. For large biscuits, she had a special aluminum cutter with a small wooden handle that fit in the palm of her hand. She cut out small biscuits with an empty apple juice can open at both ends. Some purists use lard instead of butter. Although I like biscuits made with lard and understand the tradition and history, Meme and Mama had started using butter by the time I was born. The perfect biscuit should be golden brown and slightly crisp on the outside, with a light, airy interior. For a flaky, tender biscuit, don’t overwork the dough: gently combine the ingredients until just blended. A very hot oven is essential. The steam interacts with the baking powder to create the biscuit’s ideal textures inside and out.

Brining, or soaking poultry in salted water before cooking, is the answer to dry, tasteless white meat and rubbery dark meat: brined poultry loses only half as much moisture during cooking as unbrined. In this recipe, I use buttermilk instead of water for the brine. Buttermilk is traditional in some fried chicken recipes and has the added benefit of acting as a tenderizer. If doubling this recipe, do not double the amount of salt, as the chicken will be too salty. Serve this with a dollop of Vidalia Honey Mustard Dressing (page 284) as a sweet complement to its savory flavors.

Steaming bread in the slow cooker is a terrific, hassle-free way to bake bread of all kinds. Traditionally, the batter for this brown bread was poured into coffee cans and placed in deep kettles filled with water, then hung for hours over the fire to steam. Serve it with New England Baked Beans (opposite page) or toasted for breakfast with cream cheese.

This bread pudding is savory, not sweet. A melding of the delicious southwestern flavors of corn, chiles, coriander, cumin, and cheese, it makes a wonderful side dish to a roasted loin of pork or beef.

All of my friends think that you have to have pancake mix to make pancakes. I call this successful marketing by the makers of the mixes. Pancakes are so easy to make and are lighter, fluffier, and more tender when made from scratch. They only take about five minutes extra to make, so forget the mix and see how pancakes are really supposed to taste.

While teaching classes in the American heartland few years back, as I started to measure out some buttermilk, I stopped and gasped, horrified to see tiny yellow flecks floating on top. Being a city slicker, I figured there was something wrong with the buttermilk and thought I’d have to toss it. But on closer inspection, I noticed that those flecks were little bits of real, honest-to-goodness butter, something you don’t see often anymore, since most buttermilk is cultured rather than a by-product of the butter-making process. The crowd got a good laugh at my startled reaction to my first encounter with real, old-fashioned buttermilk. And I promised them that I’d never dismiss the country’s midsection as “flyover states” again, since there’s very good buttermilk down there.

Crème fraîche is the cultured French cousin to American sour cream, although it’s far richer and more unctuous, with a distinct nutty-tangy-sweet flavor. This ice cream is made in a slightly different manner than other recipes, since mixing the crème fraîche with the other ingredients too far in advance can cause the whole batch to turn into a whole lot of crème fraîche, perhaps more than you bargained for.

Making puddings is one of the tasks the slow cooker does especially well. This scrumptious blend of flavors found in Mexican chocolate and desserts is a wonderful ending to a meal, or an afternoon or evening snack itself. I like to eat it hot, warm, or at room temperature, topped with a generous dollop of whipped cream and with cocoa powder or grated chocolate.

Panna cotta quickly became a popular restaurant dessert for many of the same reasons that make it an ideal dessert to serve at home: it can be prepared well in advance and it tastes good. It’s a win-win dessert if there ever was one. I used to refer to this as “ranch panna cotta” because it was inspired by a tangy buttermilk-based drink that I had at a south-of-the-border spa. But because people said that moniker brought to mind ranch salad dressing, I decided to keep the name simple and straightforward—just like the dessert.

This is one big, tall, scrumptious dessert: layers of moist banana cake topped with a mocha ganachelike frosting, and crowned with handfuls of salted candied peanuts. Speaking of tall and scrumptious, I made this cake for a friend who’s a showgirl at the Lido in Paris as a thank you for allowing me a behind-the-scenes visit. She shared it with her colleagues between high kicks on stage and she assured me that even though those women are leggy and lean, their cake-eating capacity knew no limits. The next morning, I read an email, sent at 3 A.M., undoubtedly just after the last curtain call, giving the cake quite a few thumbs up. Or, should I say, a few legs up?