When one thinks Southern cooking, kimchi doesn’t necessarily come to mind. Chef Hugh Acheson, creator of the legendary Five & Ten restaurant in Athens, Georgia, and the proprietor of the new Empire State South in Atlanta, wants to change that.
“This is the burgeoning South,” says Acheson, from a table in the dining room. “This is the South of Buford Highway [a main artery of Atlanta known for its multiethnic community]; this is the South as a mosaic. There are so many different cultures here, and I want to use that to reinterpret the things that are the staples all around us.”
Reinterpret Acheson does, with flair. In his kitchen, which is large and full of excited energy, Acheson uses a hodgepodge of techniques and ingredients that blend seamlessly together in his elegantly composed dishes.
For example, that kimchi gets folded into rice grits, an ingredient that Acheson’s executive chef Ryan Smith explains to me as he begins prepping his mise en place. “Back during slavery times,” says Smith, “the slaves would have to sift the rice. The owners got the good rice, and whatever fell through went to the slaves. And it’s from that broken rice that we get rice grits.”
Acheson, who’s clearly taken with Southern food culture and lore (he’s devoted his career to it), is not, by blood, a Southerner. “I grew up in Ottawa, Canada,” he tells me, explaining that he moved to Georgia after marrying his wife, who was from Athens. “But being an outsider lets me approach this food from a whole new angle.”
If Acheson had only set out to dutifully re-create Southern staples, he might have quickly become discouraged or, worse, diinterested. “I’m learning every day,” he says. “But we do it our way. If not, we get bored.”
That notion—avoiding boredom—is one that few of us consider in the kitchen. But cooking should divert you, it should engage you, and, at its best, it should enrich you.
For example, Acheson uses classic French techniques to take his food to a higher level. When he and I sear scallops in a hot pan with oil, Acheson begins preparations for a classic beurre blanc sauce. In a small pot, he reduces white wine vinegar and white wine with a shallot, garlic, bay leaf, and thyme. He strains that into another pot set over a low flame and then he hands me a small whisk.
I get to work as he adds small cubes of very cold butter. As the sauce begins to emulsify, Acheson watches, careful not to add too much butter at once or the sauce might break. Even though you would find this technique in stuffy old French cooking textbooks, this activity is anything but boring. It is, in fact, fun.
At the end we have two composed restaurant dishes—scallops with parsnip puree and beurre blanc, and pork belly with kimchi rice grits—and one home-cooking dish, chicken braised with vinegar. These aren’t reverent re-creations of Southern staples; these dishes are something new, something exciting.
As an outsider who takes liberties with Southern food, Acheson proves that if you’re not bored with what you’re doing you will make food that’s anything but boring.
“Never get locked into a recipe. The halibut sucks, but there’s a stunning grouper. So make grouper instead.”
Serves 2
This is an intensely flavorful chicken dinner, easy enough for a weeknight, and the result of several factors that all work together. Factor #1: You use chicken thighs, which, when braised, become wonderfully tender. Factor #2: You brown them slowly, so the fat renders out completely. Factor #3: You braise them in a combination of chicken stock and cider vinegar, which packs a huge punch. Don’t skip the fennel or the radish: they absorb all that liquid and extend the deliciousness by many extra bites. Also, make sure to brown the chicken well at the beginning; it will pay off in the end.
4 large chicken thighs, skin on, bone in
Kosher salt
2 tablespoons canola oil
1 tablespoon unsalted butter, cut into cubes, plus 1 tablespoon for later
¼ cup minced shallots (from two large shallots)
1 cup cider vinegar (such as Bragg’s; which you can buy directly on their Web site, www.bragg.com)
1 bay leaf
1 to 2 cups homemade chicken stock
½ medium fennel, quartered, cored, and sliced thin horizontally
1 radish, sliced very thinly
Good olive oil
¼ cup chopped parsley
Preheat the oven to 325°F. Season the chicken well with salt.
Heat an ovenproof pan or a Dutch oven on high heat, then add the canola oil. Add the chicken skin side down—it should sizzle right away—then lower the heat to between medium and medium low. You want the fat to render slowly; otherwise you’ll leave pockets of fat behind. Monitor the heat so there’s a steady sizzle, but not an aggressive one.
Add the butter and, without moving the chicken around, use a spoon to baste the chicken as it browns. When the skin is a deep golden brown, 3 to 4 minutes, flip the chicken over. If the skin is properly cooked, it should detach easily. Brown on the other side, 2 minutes, and then remove the chicken to a plate.
Add the shallots and cook until softened. Then add the cider vinegar and the bay leaf, raising the heat and reducing the mixture slightly. The vinegar will get sweeter as it reduces: taste it to see how much chicken stock you want to add so the liquid doesn’t lose its edge. Add at least 1 cup of the chicken stock and then return the chicken to the pan, skin side up. The chicken should be halfway covered (you may need to add more stock).
Cover the pan and bake for 40 minutes. Add the fennel and the final tablespoon of butter. Stir, cover, and return to the oven for another 10 minutes.
When the chicken and fennel are fork-tender, use a slotted spoon to remove the chicken to a plate.
Place the pan with the liquid and the fennel on a burner and turn up the heat to high. Reduce the liquid to intensify it and when it’s flavorful, after 3 to 4 minutes (make sure to taste it for salt), remove the bay leaf and add the radish. Return the chicken to the pan, lower the heat, and let everything warm through for another 2 to 3 minutes.
When it’s time to serve, place the chicken on warm plates with the radish and fennel and drizzle with good olive oil, then sprinkle with parsley. This dish goes well with crusty bread, lightly browned under a broiler and drizzled with olive oil.
Serves 4
This is a fancy restaurant dish, something that an upscale place might charge you thirty dollars to eat. But let me tell you a secret: when you break it down into components, this is pretty easy to cook at home. If you make the parsnip puree ahead and make the beurre blanc ahead, too, all you have to do is quickly sauté some mustard greens and sear the scallops. Look for scallops labeled as “dry” scallops (the other kind, which are treated with sodium tripolyphosphate and are usually sitting in liquid, won’t brown up as well).
FOR THE PARSNIP PUREE
4 medium parsnips, peeled, cored*, and roughly chopped
⅔ cup milk
½ cup heavy cream
Salt
FOR THE BEURRE BLANC
¼ cup white wine vinegar
¼ cup dry white wine
1 shallot, peeled
2 cloves garlic, peeled
1 bay leaf
A few sprigs of thyme
4 tablespoons (½ stick) very cold unsalted butter, cubed
1 tablespoon chopped parsley
FOR THE MUSTARD GREENS
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 shallot, chopped
1 cup mustard greens, cleaned and chopped
A pinch of salt
FOR THE SCALLOPS
12 scallops
Salt
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons canola oil
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
To make the parsnip puree, place the parsnips in a pot and cover completely with the milk and cream. Add a pinch of salt and bring the mixture to a boil over medium-high heat, reduce to a simmer, and cook until the parsnips are just tender, about 15 minutes. You’ll know they’re cooked when you can smash one with a wooden spoon.
Strain the parsnips, reserving some liquid, and puree them in a blender. If it’s too chunky and won’t blend up, add a little of the liquid. If, on the other hand, it looks too thin, don’t worry: the mixture will thicken when you heat it up later. Taste and adjust for salt.
To make the beurre blanc, in a small pot, bring the white wine vinegar, wine, shallot, garlic, bay leaf, and thyme to a boil over high heat. Let it reduce from ½ cup of liquid to ¼ cup, 5 to 10 minutes.
Strain the liquid into another small pot and then, on low heat, begin whisking in the butter 1 cube at a time. It’s important you do this gradually so you achieve emulsification. Watch the sauce as you do this: it should look creamy and homogeneous, though still rather liquid. Add the parsley and taste to adjust. Set aside.
To make the greens, in a small skillet, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the shallots, cook until soft, and then add the mustard greens with the salt. Cook just until the greens have wilted, 2 to 3 minutes.
To cook the scallops, pat them dry with paper towels and season with salt. In a clean skillet, combine the olive oil and canola oil. Heat until smoking hot. Lower the scallops in, individually, away from you, making sure not to crowd the pan.
Add some of the butter and baste the scallops as they cook. You want to cook them 85 percent of the way on the first side (they’ll turn a deep, dark, beautiful brown), about 2 minutes. When they’re mostly opaque, carefully turn the scallops over, tilting the pan away from you and flipping the scallops with a spoon. Continue to baste the scallops with fat, and when they’re cooked all the way (they’ll be firm and totally opaque), remove to a plate lined with paper towels to remove some of the grease.
To plate, reheat the parsnip puree on very low heat and then spoon a little of it on each plate. Pile on the cooked mustard greens, top with two or three scallops, and spoon on the beurre blanc. Serve right away.
Serves 4
My friend Mark wrote me an e-mail the day after I served him this dish for dinner: “That pork belly haunted my dreams.” For good reason! This is the ultimate way to serve up the ultimate part of the pig; every step of the process is intuitive and simple. You cure the belly with salt and sugar, confit it in olive oil, press it in the refrigerator to distribute the fat more evenly, and then, when you’re ready to eat, you slice it up and sear it. As for the kimchi rice grits, you can certainly try making this with just rice, but there’s something special about ordering a product from a company as well respected as Anson Mills.
Start this dish at least a day before you plan to serve it.
FOR THE RUB
1 teaspoon whole white peppercorns
1 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1 cup kosher salt
½ cup sugar
1 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
FOR THE BELLY
2-pound piece of pork belly*
4 cups olive oil or duck fat, plus more as needed
FOR THE RICE GRITS
2 cups chicken stock or water
1 cup Anson Mills rice grits (see Resources)
A pinch of kosher salt
½ cup chopped kimchi
¼ cup heavy cream
Juice of 1 lime
TO FINISH
¼ cup canola oil
¼ cup olive oil
Pickled black radish(optional)
You’ll need to start this dish at least 24 hours before you plan to serve it. To make the rub, in a spice grinder, grind the white peppercorns and red pepper flakes into a powder. Stir them together with the salt, sugar, and nutmeg. Use this rub to season the pork belly aggressively and allow the pork belly to sit, coated with the rub and covered with plastic wrap, at room temperature for 2 hours.
Preheat the oven to 300°F. Brush the rub off the pork belly and then, in a Dutch oven or a similar pan, submerge the belly in room-temperature olive oil or duck fat. (Pork fat will work really well here too.) If 4 cups doesn’t cover it, you’ll need to add more fat: the belly needs to be completely submerged*.
Roast uncovered for 2½ to 3 hours. You’ll know it’s done when a knife or skewer goes through the meat easily.
While the belly is warm, place it on a tray lined with plastic wrap. Cover it with more plastic wrap and top it with another tray that you line with some heavy cans* to put weight on top of the belly. Refrigerate overnight.
The next day, cook the grits by bringing the 2 cups of chicken stock to a boil over high heat. Slowly stir in the grits and the salt. Lower the heat and cook until the grits are thick and creamy; taste so you know. If the liquid is gone before the grits are cooked, add more stock or water. Continue cooking until the grits taste cooked through, about 20 minutes.
Add the chopped kimchi and cream*.
Remove the pork belly from the tray and cut into individual portions. In a large skillet, heat the canola oil and olive oil until very hot but not smoking.
Add the pork belly to the oil and cook very fast—it will pop and spray*, 30 seconds to a minute per side. You want to just brown it all over without rendering too much fat.
To finish, add lime juice to the grits to taste and adjust the salt. Spoon grits onto plates. Top with the browned pork belly and, if you’re using it, the pickled radish.
