Fourth of July

I don’t know why people seem surprised by this one; it makes perfect sense to me! Lobster and potatoes have each been the starring ingredient in their own salads for ages—in this recipe, they share double billing, resulting in a dish that is infinitely better than either of the individual salads that inspired it. Besides the lobster, thin-skinned and buttery fingerling potatoes give the potato salad a major upgrade. The mayonnaise-based dressing features a blend of pungent horseradish, Dijon mustard, and bright lemon juice. I love anise-flavored tarragon with lobster; its delicate leaves are folded in along with lemony parsley right before serving.

This dish is a celebration of the Pacific Northwest’s Native American heritage. Native Americans were the first to cook salmon in this way, slowly roasting the dense flesh on cedar planks arranged around an open fire. (You can get the planks at a hardware store.) A light smoky essence permeates the fish as it cooks, boosting the flavor quotient of rich salmon. In addition to the salmon that run though its waters, the Pacific Northwest is known for its lush and balanced Pinot Noir wine. A reduction of the wine is the basis of a darkly fruity, savory sauce that finishes the dish.

Cooking over cedar planks creates amazing flavor, infusing every bite with smoky complexity. And so I decided it was time for salmon to share the cedar love and give burgers some of that star treatment. It works. Since this is, after all, a method born in the Pacific Northwest, it only seems right to outfit the burger with toppings inspired by the region. A barbecue sauce made with Pinot Noir—the grape that put Oregon’s wine on the map—and an earthy sauté of wild mushrooms flavorfully fit the bill.

This recipes involving as few dishes as possible. (I like to cook, not do dishes.) It’s also a bit larger than many of my vegetable dishes—it makes for delicious leftovers. Succotash has many versions, but all contain corn and beans. If butter beans are not available, I often substitute shelled edamame or black-eyed peas. Small farm stands, local and state farmer’s markets, and even the Whole Foods in my area usually carry shelled peas and butter beans in the summer. They are both doubly precious—extremely delicious and fairly expensive, the result of the luxury of not having to shell your own.

In the heat of the summer, there’s nothing better for keeping the heat out of the kitchen than firing up the grill. Dede would make his barbecued chicken on the Fourth of July, using a potent vinegar bath on grilled chicken that produced a pungent, meaty odor, sending out billowing clouds of steam and smoke as the chicken cooked on the grill. My sister and I fought to help pack the ice and rock salt in the ice cream machine for homemade peach ice cream. I wasn’t nearly as fond at the time of being given the chore of grating the cheese for the pimento cheese. For many years, my grandparents did not have air-conditioning. Meme would stay up late the night before or wake up very early in the morning and work in the cool, quiet hours of the hot July heat to prepare her portion of the feast. The humming of the fan was often her only company before the house started stirring and the cousins started piling out of bunks and cots.

Russet (also called Idaho) potatoes are not usually recommended for potato salad. They can become waterlogged when boiled and fall apart easily. Their high-starch, low-moisture content makes them inclined to absorb too much dressing. But that is the beauty of this dish. This is the archetypical summer potato salad that has been served on paper plates across the country for generations. When Mama prepares this salad, she lets the potatoes cool just enough, but not completely. The cubes break down slightly and the salad is a blend of larger pieces of potato with a little bit of creamy mash. This is one of my sister’s favorite dishes, a comforting classic that echoes with childhood memories whenever Mama makes it, so she always makes a big batch. The recipe halves beautifully.

Caramelized winter fruits atop these beans make for a wonderful variation of this traditional New England side dish.

The limes we grew in Texas are almost a hybrid lemon-lime and we used them to make “ades.” It wasn’t until I was much older that I realized other people usually used lemons, not limes. This is the recipe I grew up with, and it works just as perfectly with the limes you can buy at the store as it did with the limes we grew.

Monica makes the best, most intense fruit pies I have ever eaten, so good that her friends beg for birthday pie instead of cake. She keeps the kids happy while the pie cools with “whim wham”: While the pie is baking, take the rolled-out dough scraps, sprinkle them with cinnamon-sugar or fold a little jam inside, and bake until browned.

A full slab of beef short ribs usually contains 3 to 4 bones and is typically 8 to 10 inches square. The thickness will vary depending on the butcher but ranges from 2 to 5 inches. There are several ways beef ribs are cut and presented to the consumer besides the full slab. The ribs can be individually cut with a size similar to a pork country-style rib, cross-cut across the bones about 1/2 inch thick, or cut into boneless steaks. Beef ribs are less common to my barbecue region than pork ribs. I always look forward to working with cuts of meat that aren’t on the Big Bob Gibson menu. This recipe is one I created while working for the Kingsford charcoal company in 2007. I love the intense beefy flavor of the seasoned juices that result from this preparation; the juices can be drizzled back over the beef ribs or used to flavor a side dish such as mashed potatoes.

In 2001, I made my first national television appearance on Food Network’s Cooking Live with Sara Moulton. I received the invitation after doing a morning radio show with Sara at the Memphis in May World Championship Barbecue Cooking Contest. Her only stipulation was that my recipes needed to be cooked in an indoor oven. I have always maintained that any recipe written for the kitchen can be duplicated outdoors with more flavor; here my challenge was to prove the opposite holds true as well. I developed a four-stage rib recipe that layers flavors to make up for the extra punch you can only get from cooking with burning coals. It was pretty successful, but changing the recipe back to the outdoor cooker gives these ribs the best of both worlds.

Sometimes it’s good to buck tradition. This recipe breaks away from the creamy cold potato salad and tests the theory that “everything is better on the outdoor grill.” This recipe, which I originally created for SOUTHERN LIVING magazine in 2009, answers the question with a resounding “Absolutely!” Grilled Potato Salad starts with traditional ingredients such as potatoes, onions, mayonnaise, and mustard but takes an unfamiliar twist by utilizing a complex dry rub, which adds a vibrant punch of flavor. This unique recipe will draw raves served hot off the grill but is also good eatin’ out of the fridge the next day.

The whole pork shoulder is exactly that, a hog’s entire front haunch. The average shoulder weighs sixteen to twenty pounds and is the shape of a large shoe box. The shoulder is comprised of two different cuts: the “picnic,” which is the lower portion and includes the leg bone, and the “butt,” which is the top of the shoulder, including the blade bone. In the barbecue world, restaurant cooking is different from competition cooking. A restaurant customer expects to enjoy a full plate of barbecue and to enjoy the last bite as much as the first. Judges at competitions, on the other hand, usually taste only a bite or two for each entry they are served. If your meat doesn’t grab the judges’ taste buds and make them whimper with pleasure, the blue ribbon is history. In fact I once heard a master barbecue judge say, “You can’t win with good eatin’ barbecue.” It is very difficult to walk the fine line between good eatin’ and good scorin’ ’Q, but this recipe does it. It takes the base flavors and cooking techniques that Big Bob Gibson always used in his restaurant and amplifies them for competition. We add a seasoning blend to enhance the flavor of the bark—the outside crust of the meat—and we use injection to increase the moisture in the pork and permeate the meat throughout with flavorings. We use the same vinegar-based sauce that Big Bob created in the early 1920s to finish the shoulder. These modifications resulted in six straight first place finishes at the Memphis in May World Championship Barbecue Cooking Contest in the pork shoulder category, an added victory at the Jack Daniel’s World Championship Invitational Barbecue, and a first place at the largest barbecue contest in the world, the American Royal.

Place the fruit on skewers and let your kids sprinkle on the sugar. When you grill the skewers the sugar caramelizes, giving them a nice crunch; but you’ll know it’s still a very healthy dessert that is mostly fruit. You may use apricots and peaches in place of any of the suggested fruits if you like.

Pat: All it takes is a spoon and a wedge of warm buttered cornbread to turn these sweet Southern baked beans, made with chunks of chopped pork, into a meal. Tangy baked beans are a Memphis trademark—we serve them sweeter than other regions around the country do. At our restaurants and at home, we flavor the beans with molasses, brown sugar, and our famous Neely’s Barbecue Sauce—as well as plenty of chopped pork. The hickory flavor from chunks of smoked pork gives this dish some toothy tang.

Pat: This cool, creamy pie is as refreshing as a glass of lemonade—and it goes down just as easy. We use lemonade concentrate, sweetened condensed milk, and whipped cream to create a fluffy, light-textured filling, then cradle the filling in a graham-cracker crust and freeze the pie before serving. The result is a beat-the-heat, not-too-heavy dessert that can easily follow a big feast—and still disappear (not that anyone in our family is ever too full for dessert!). The lemon-zest garnish is not essential, but it sure is beautiful and fun to make, and it adds another little kiss of lemony love.