South

This simple soup pairs the clean flavor of fresh yellow squash with buttermilk, sunflower, and cucumber. It’s not uncommon to find the three plants growing side by side in a summer garden, so putting them together makes for a natural fit. The tart buttermilk curds and the sunflower oil give the soup a hint of richness, and, because you’ll have leftovers, the toasted sunflower seeds double as a crunchy garnish and an addictive snack. Make this during the balmy summer months.

Note: You’ll need to start this recipe a day ahead of time to allow the buttermilk curds to drain overnight.

For the buttermilk curds: Line a strainer with a double layer of cheesecloth and place it over a bowl. Heat the buttermilk in a small nonreactive saucepan over medium heat, stirring frequently, until the temperature reaches 170°F (use an instant-read thermometer to check). Stir in the lemon juice, salt, and white pepper and keep the mixture at 170°F for 2 minutes; curds should form. Pour the mixture into the strainer, place the bowl and strainer in the refrigerator, and refrigerate overnight.

The next day, transfer the buttermilk curds to a container, cover, and refrigerate until ready to use. (Tightly covered, the curds will keep for up to 3 days in the refrigerator.)

Measure out ¼ cup of the whey that drained into the bowl for the squash soup and refrigerate. Reserve the rest of the whey for another use, if desired. (Tightly covered, the whey can be kept for up to 3 days in the refrigerator or up to 3 months in the freezer. It can be used in baking or a buttermilk dressing, or to season a potato puree.)

For the soup: Combine the squash, cucumber, onion, vegetable stock, and the reserved ¼ cup whey in a blender and blend on high until completely smooth, about 2 minutes. With the motor running on low speed, slowly drizzle in the sunflower oil and blend until emulsified. Blend in the salt, black pepper, and lemon juice. Strain the soup through a fine-mesh sieve into a container, cover, and refrigerate until chilled. (Tightly covered, the soup will keep for up to 2 days in the refrigerator.)

For the sunflower seeds: Preheat the oven to 325°F. Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.

Spread the seeds out in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet and toast them in the oven for 25 to 30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until golden brown and crisp.

Transfer the seeds to a small bowl, drizzle in the sunflower oil, and toss. Add the Espelette pepper and salt and toss again. Return the seeds to the baking sheet, spread them out in an even layer, and cool to room temperature, then transfer to an airtight container and set aside at room temperature until ready to serve. (You need only about ¼ cup of the seeds to garnish the soup; the rest are great for snacking. Tightly covered, the seeds will keep for up to 1 month at room temperature.)

To serve: Divide the soup among four bowls. Spoon some of the buttermilk curds into the center of each bowl and sprinkle with about 1 tablespoon of the sunflower seeds. Drizzle each portion with sunflower oil and garnish each with a baby cucumber, if desired.

¼ cup shelled green peanuts (about 4 ounces in the shell; see Resources), finely chopped

2 tablespoons peanut oil, preferably Oliver Farm Green Peanut Oil (see Resources

I’d never heard of groundnut soup before I moved to Richmond in my early twenties to work at Lemaire in the Jefferson Hotel. But the soup is very, very popular in that town, so I quickly learned how to make it from chef Walter Bundy. When I started collecting classic old Southern cookbooks, I saw the recipe in nearly all of them. Not surprisingly, none of those recipes includes boiled peanut miso, but I think it’s worth making. The miso adds a unique umami boost and texture to the soup, but in a pinch, you can substitute creamy peanut butter; just be sure to season the soup with a little extra salt.

Note: Green peanuts are available from summer into fall throughout the South and are sold in many grocery stores—or see Resources.

Heat the butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat until foamy. Add the onion and celery and cook, stirring often, until translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook, stirring frequently, for 2 minutes. Reduce the heat to medium-low, stir in the flour, and cook, stirring constantly, for 2 minutes to make a light roux.

Slowly add the chicken stock, stirring constantly to prevent lumps. Add the bay leaf, increase the heat to medium, and simmer, stirring frequently, until the soup begins to thicken, about 5 minutes. Reduce the heat to low and simmer for 15 minutes more to develop the flavors. Remove from the stove and cool slightly; remove and discard the bay leaf.

Working in batches if necessary, transfer the soup to a blender, add the miso, and blend on high until completely smooth, about 2 minutes. Blend in the Frangelico, salt, and white pepper. Strain the soup through a fine-mesh sieve into a clean saucepan. (The soup can be made ahead. Tightly covered once cooled, it will keep for up to 3 days in the refrigerator.)

Gently reheat the soup over medium heat if necessary, stirring often. Divide the soup among four warm bowls. Sprinkle with the green peanuts and drizzle with the peanut oil. Garnish each bowl with about 1 tablespoon of the chervil leaves and serve.

In the mountains where I grew up, the old-timers called morels “dry-land fish” and usually ate them fried in a beer batter. But fresh morels are a luxury, and I like to let them shine in the most luxurious cream of mushroom soup you can imagine.

Fill a large deep bowl or container with 2½ gallons warm water, add ½ cup of the salt, and stir until it has dissolved. Add the morels and let them soak for 1 hour.

Using a wire rack, push the morels down a little in the brine and, with your other hand, skim any leaves and debris from the top with a fine-mesh sieve. Remove the rack and gently lift out the morels, trying not to disturb the debris that has settled at the bottom of the bowl. Repeat the soaking procedure twice, using ½ cup salt each time, then lay the morels out on the rack and let them air-dry at room temperature until completely dry, 30 minutes to 1 hour.

Heat the butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat until foamy. Add the onion and morels and cook, stirring often, until the onion is translucent and the morels are softened, about 10 minutes. Add the garlic and cook, stirring frequently, for 2 minutes. Reduce the heat to medium-low, stir in the flour, and cook, stirring constantly, for 2 minutes to make a light roux.

Slowly add the mushroom stock, stirring constantly to prevent lumps, then bring to a simmer and cook, stirring frequently, until the soup begins to thicken, about 5 minutes. Add the cream, reduce the heat to low, and simmer the soup for 15 minutes to develop the flavors. Remove from the stove and cool slightly.

Working in batches if necessary, transfer the soup to a blender and blend on high until completely smooth, about 3 minutes. Blend in the remaining ½ teaspoon salt and the white pepper. (The soup can be made ahead. Tightly covered, it will keep for up to 3 days in the refrigerator.)

Reheat the soup gently over medium-low heat, if necessary. Divide among four warm bowls and serve.

4 tablespoons grated Crab Roe Bottarga (casing removed, grated with a Microplane)

She-crab soup has several origin stories, but there seems to be a consensus that it came to the Lowcountry via Scottish immigrants, who brought with them a recipe for partan bree, or crab soup. The dish as we would recognize it now was probably served for the first time in the early 1900s. One bit of lore has it that Charleston’s then mayor, Robert Goodwyn Rhett, instructed his butler, William Deas, to spruce up traditional crab soup to impress President Taft during his visit to the city. Deas added the bright orange roe of Charleston’s blue crabs, and a classic was born. When the soup is prepared well, you realize that it is famous for a reason. Make it during crab season when you can get beautiful live fresh blue crabs. I cure the crab roe much like bottarga and finish the soup with a generous grating of it right before it hits the table.

Note: Ask your fishmonger for male crabs. They generally have a higher ratio of meat to shell. If you don’t want to cook fresh crabs or can’t get them, you can substitute a container of fresh blue crab meat.

To humanely kill the crabs, chill them in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours to gradually reduce their body temperature; this will slow their metabolism and make them easier and safer to handle. Then, one at a time, remove the crabs from the refrigerator, place on a cutting board, and insert the sharp point of a sturdy knife through the shell directly behind the eyes.

Combine the crabs, milk, and cream in a medium pot and bring to a simmer over medium heat, stirring occasionally to prevent scorching. Reduce the heat to low and simmer, uncovered, for 30 minutes to cook the crabs through and develop the flavor. Remove the crabs with tongs, quickly rinse them under cool running water, place on a rimmed baking sheet, and cool to room temperature.

Strain the milk mixture through a fine-mesh sieve into a container and cool to room temperature.

When the crabs are cool, pick the meat (see the box on the following page) and discard the shells. Transfer the crabmeat to a container, cover, and refrigerate until ready to use.

Heat the butter in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat until foamy. Add the onion and cook, stirring often, until translucent, about 4 minutes. Stir in the flour and cook, stirring constantly, for about 1 minute to make a very light roux.

Slowly add the milk mixture, stirring constantly to prevent lumps. Add the Worcestershire sauce, mace, salt, and white pepper, reduce the heat to low, and simmer, partially covered, for 10 minutes to develop the flavors.

Fold in the crab and heat through. Fold in the tarragon, vermouth, and lemon juice.

Divide the soup among four warm bowls and sprinkle each with about 1 tablespoon of the bottarga.

How to Pick a Cooked Blue Crab

Using your hands, break off the two large front claws and set aside. Hold the crab in one hand and carefully pry off the top shell with your other hand. If you have female crabs and find bright orange, sweet roe when you open the shell, remove it and reserve it as an additional garnish for the soup. Give the inside of the crab a quick rinse under cold running water to wash away the internal organs and any fat. Using kitchen shears, cut away the triangular gills from both sides of the crab and discard. Turn the crab over and remove the apron—the tab-like feature—and discard. Cut the crab lengthwise in half. Using the kitchen shears or a large chef’s knife, make a cut between each leg through the body of the crab. Using your fingers, carefully pick the crabmeat from the cartilaginous membranes where the legs meet the body. Using the back of a large chef’s knife or a small wooden mallet, crack open the claw and leg joints to reveal more crabmeat; remove it. Discard all the shells. Pick over the crabmeat for any shell fragments or cartilage. Transfer to a container, cover, and refrigerate. Tightly covered, the crabmeat will keep for up to 3 days in the refrigerator.

1 red spring onion (with a 1-inch bulb), green top removed and reserved for another use

1 white spring onion (with a 1-inch bulb), green top removed and reserved for another use

1½ pounds baby lettuces, such as Black Seeded Simpson, Lolla Rosa, and red oak leaf, washed and dried

“Killed lettuces”—also known as “kilt lettuces”—at its simplest is nothing more than fresh lettuces and hot fat, usually bacon grease (it’s the original hot bacon dressing). You can serve the lettuce simply with some sliced red onion to give it a kick. To take it to another level, as I do here, add seasoned cornbread crumbs, delicate slices of spring onions along with their flowers, and a hot vinaigrette enhanced with sweet sorghum syrup.

Put the bacon in a large cast-iron skillet and cook over medium heat, stirring frequently, until the fat has rendered and the bacon is crisp. Remove the bacon with a slotted spoon and drain it on paper towels. You will need approximately ½ cup of the rendered bacon fat; if there is more, remove it from the skillet, cool to room temperature, cover, and refrigerate. (Tightly covered, the bacon fat will keep for up to 3 weeks in the refrigerator.) Move the skillet to the back of the stove to keep the reserved ½ cup bacon fat warm.

Combine the cornbread crumbs, 1½ teaspoons of the reserved rendered fat, the salt, and the pepper in a large bowl and gently stir to mix well. Transfer the mixture to a rimmed baking sheet, spread it out in a thin, even layer, and bake for 10 to 12 minutes, until the crumbs are dried and crispy. Remove from the oven and cool to room temperature.

Combine the crumbs and half the crispy bacon pieces in a container. Cover and set aside at room temperature. Reserve the remaining bacon for another use, or snack on it.

For the vinaigrette: Whisk the vinegar, sorghum syrup, salt, and pepper into the bacon fat remaining in the skillet.

To complete: Thinly slice the onion bulbs and separate them into individual rings. Divide the lettuces and onions among six salad bowls.

Heat the vinaigrette over medium heat, whisking, until it begins to bubble. Sprinkle each salad with cornbread crumbs and some onion flowers, if desired. Pour the hot vinaigrette over the salads and serve immediately.

½ ripe 8- to 10-pound watermelon, rind removed, seeded, and cut into ¾-inch dice

2 banana peppers, seeded and sliced into very thin rings, or to taste (see Note)

At one time in the nineteenth century, the Bradford watermelon was among the most coveted varieties in the South, so much so that it even resulted in the killings of some unlucky would-be pillagers. Farmers protected their crops by poisoning unmarked melons in the field or even electrifying their melon patches to give unsuspecting thieves an often deadly jolt. The Bradford watermelon would have been lost to us forever if it weren’t for the passion, foresight, and hard work of just a few people. The current Bradford responsible for continuing the line is Nat, the sixth great-grandson of the melon’s developer, Nathaniel Bradford.

When I get my hands on one of these prize melons for the first time each year, it’s hard not to eat the whole thing as it is, but this salad accentuates the melon’s natural sweetness and refreshing texture—or that of any good ripe watermelon. Dress the salad with molasses made from watermelon and accompany it with field-ripe tomatoes and spicy banana peppers.

Note: Banana peppers vary in heat. Taste a small slice of yours first to see how much you want to add.

For the pecans: Preheat the oven to 325°F. Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.

Spread the pecan pieces out in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet and toast them in the oven for 10 to 15 minutes, until aromatic and slightly crisp. Transfer the pecans to a small bowl, drizzle in the pecan oil, add the salt, and toss to coat. Return the pecans to the baking sheet, spread them out, and cool to room temperature.

Roughly chop the pecans, transfer to an airtight container, and set aside. (Tightly covered, the pecans will keep for up to 1 week at room temperature.)

For the vinaigrette: Combine the molasses, fish sauce, and lime juice in a small bowl. Combine the olive oil and pecan oil in a separate small bowl. Whisking constantly, slowly drizzle the oils into the molasses mixture and whisk until emulsified. (The vinaigrette can be made ahead. Tightly covered, it will keep for up to 2 days in the refrigerator. Whisk before using to re-emulsify.)

For the salad: Combine the tomatoes, watermelon, pepper rings, and pecans in a bowl, add the vinaigrette, season with salt and black pepper, toss to coat, and sprinkle with basil leaves.

¾ teaspoon grated bottarga, preferably Cortez Bottarga mullet bottarga (seeResources; casing removed, grated with a Microplane)

½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, preferably Bourbon Barrel Smoked Black Pepper (see Resources)

10 ounces baby collard greens, cut crosswise into 1-inch-wide strips, washed in several changes of water, and dried

2 tablespoons grated bottarga, preferably Cortez Bottarga mullet bottarga (see Resources; casing removed, grated with a Microplane)

I eat a lot of Caesar salads, and I know I’m not alone in my love of a good Caesar. I’d always wanted to do a Southern riff on one but could never really make it work because there aren’t many options for anchovies produced in the South. Finally I found the solution in Florida-based Cortez Bottarga’s mullet bottarga. I use it in the dressing for this Southern Caesar, which also includes cornbread croutons and benne seeds.

For the pickled onions: Combine the vinegar, water, sugar, and salt in a small nonreactive saucepan and bring to a boil over high heat, stirring to dissolve the sugar and salt. Put the onions in a nonreactive heatproof container and pour the hot pickling liquid over them. Cool to room temperature, cover, and refrigerate for at least 4 hours. (Tightly covered, the onions will keep for up to 1 week in the refrigerator.)

For the dressing: Heat a large skillet over medium heat. Add the benne seeds and cook, stirring constantly, for 2 to 3 minutes, until they start to smell a little nutty. Transfer to a plate and cool to room temperature.

Combine the benne seeds, vinegar, benne oil, garlic, lemon zest, lemon juice, bottarga, mustard powder, preserved lemon peel, agave nectar, and pepper in a blender and blend on high until completely smooth, about 1 minute. Add the mayonnaise, cheese, egg yolk, Worcestershire sauce, garlic powder, onion powder, and olive oil and blend on low until just combined. Transfer to a container, cover, and refrigerate until ready to serve. (Tightly covered, the dressing will keep for up to 2 days in the refrigerator.)

To complete: Combine the collards and dressing in a large bowl and toss well. Divide among six individual salad bowls. Divide the pickled onions and cornbread croutons among the salads and top with the bottarga, cheese, and benne seeds.

A. Curemaster • B. Type of cure • C. Wood used for smoking (if smoked) • D. Time aged • E. Biographical info

1. Broadbent’s (broadbenthams.com)

A. Ronny Drennan

B. Salt and sugar

C. Hickory

D. 6 to 9 months

E. Broadbent has been curing hams and smoking bacon and sausage for more than a hundred years. For the last fifty, they’ve operated a mail-order business, shipping their hams across the country. They’ve been winning tasting prizes for about as long as that.

2. Colonel Newsom’s Kentucky Country Ham (newsomscountryham.com)

A. Nancy Newsom

B. Salt and brown sugar

C. Hickory

D. 12-plus months

E. The family behind Colonel Newsom’s has been in the food business for a hundred years and curing hams for about as long. The simply cured hams rely on the changing seasons to give them a depth of flavor that makes them one of my favorites.

3. Dakota Country Hams

A. Dwight Muse

B. Salt, sugar, and black pepper

C. Unsmoked

D. 14 to 36 months, depending on the weather and the ham

E. Dwight Muse’s maternal great-grandmother Dakota Simpson Brock (no relation) is the namesake of this operation, and she passed down the know-how and the cure recipe used for generations in this family. Dwight has been regularly curing and aging the hams and shoulders of pastured hogs for more than twenty-five years. The hams are suspended in pillowcases and hung in the open air of an old warehouse, and Mother Nature decides how long they stay.

4. The Hamery (thehamery.com)

A. Bob Woods

B. Salt and sugar

C. Apple and hickory

D. 9 to 12 months or 18-plus months

E. Bob Woods is the second-generation proprietor of the Hamery. The curing operation was opened by his father, Dr. Sam Woods, almost fifty years ago to provide their small town with a ham to be proud of. The hams are still cured using the recipe passed down from Bob’s grandfather Old Doc.

5. Benton’s Smoky Mountain Country Hams (bentonscountryhams2.com)

A. Delmer Benton

B. Salt, brown sugar, and crushed red pepper flakes

C. Hickory (some hams are unsmoked)

D. 9 to 12 months

E. The old block building that houses Allan Benton’s operation has been the site of smoking and aging country hams and bacon for seventy years. Started after World War II by Albert Hicks, the smokehouse and its current and longtime caretaker, Allan Benton, deserve a lot of recognition for bringing cured and smoked country hams out of the homes of the South and into the wider culinary world.

6. Johnston County Hams (countrycuredhams.com)

A. Rufus Brown

B. Salt and sugar

C. Hickory

D. 3 to 6 months

E. The operation started in 1946 but truly found its footing in 1967 with the addition of curemaster Jesse Brown to the staff. In the more than fifty years since, starting with Jesse and continuing with his son Rufus, Johnston County has produced some of the finest hams in the country.

7. Edwards Virginia Smokehouse (edwardsvaham.com)

A. Sam Wallace Edwards III

B. Salt and black pepper

C. Hickory

D. 13 months

E. The Surryano ham was born from a desire to show the world that domestic traditional country hams can rival the best and most storied European dry-cured hams. A tragic fire in 2016 put a pause in production, but a little over a year later, the fine folks at Edwards were back at it.

8. Olli Salumeria (olli.com)

A. Olli Colmignolihis

B. Sea salt

C. Unsmoked

D. 16 months

E. While not actually a country ham, this is a damn fine ham made in the South. The business started between two friends with three hams from pigs raised by my friend Emile de Felice of Caw Caw Creek Farm. Olli cured the hams in the traditional Italian way and aged them, unsmoked, for over a year. The resulting ham was good enough to start a curing business selling hams, coppas, and salami across the country.

9. Kite’s Hams (kiteshams.com)

A. James (Jim) P. Kite

B. Salt and brown sugar

C. Unsmoked

D. 6 to 12 months

E. Jim Kite combined his desire to have an “honest job” and a secret family recipe for country ham passed down from his father to build a curing operation that has been selling country hams for almost sixty years. Kite’s produces about 20,000 hams per year, curing them on wooden racks.

½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, preferably Bourbon Barrel Smoked Black Pepper (see Resources)

Two 2- to 2½-pound melons of your choice, quartered, rind removed, seeded, and cut into 1-by-1½-inch pieces

24 very thin slices country ham (about 12 ounces), preferably Bob Wood’s (see Resources)

Many cuisines are known to pair sweet, juicy melon with the saltiness of a good cured ham. For a Southern version, instead of prosciutto or jamón serrano, I use a beautiful country ham. The grilled honey vinaigrette incorporates the flavor of the hearth while the other ingredients remain fresh and uncooked.

Note: Make this vinaigrette on a day when you’ve already fired up the grill so you can easily (and carefully) get the hot coal you need.

For the vinaigrette: If you don’t have the grill fired up for another recipe (see Note), light the smallest amount of hardwood charcoal you can (see Grilling); you need only one hot coal.

Put the honey in a small nonreactive saucepan with a lid. Using a pair of long-handled tongs, take a red-hot coal from the grill, drop it into the honey, and immediately put the lid on the saucepan. Let the honey cool completely.

Strain the honey through a fine-mesh sieve into a blender. Add the honey vinegar, salt, and pepper and blend to incorporate. With the motor running, slowly drizzle in the peanut oil and blend until emulsified. Transfer to a container, cover, and refrigerate. (Tightly covered, the vinaigrette will keep for up to 1 week in the refrigerator. Whisk before using to re-emulsify if necessary.)

To complete: Combine the melon pieces, lime zest, and about ¼ cup of the vinaigrette in a large bowl and gently toss to combine. Divide the melon among six plates, top each with 4 slices of country ham, and sprinkle with the peanuts. Garnish with the sorrel leaves and sorrel flowers, if desired.

Peaches and cottage cheese was one of my dad’s favorite things to eat, but when I was a little kid, the combination totally grossed me out. Fast-forward a couple of decades, and now I get it. In fact, I crave the thing I used to think was inedible! I also love pairing ripe tomatoes with ripe fruits, especially stone fruits at their summer peak. This salad marries peaches, tomatoes, and cottage cheese with a vinaigrette made from pawpaw vinegar. The vinegar adds a tropical flavor that you might not expect in a simple salad like this. It’s like a modern interpretation of the type of dish you’d find in the classic 1960s Time-Life cookbooks. If you can’t get pawpaw vinegar, use raspberry vinegar instead.

For the vinaigrette: Combine the vinegar, kosher salt, and pepper in a small bowl. Whisking constantly, slowly drizzle in the grapeseed oil and whisk until emulsified. Stir in the shallot, garlic, and basil. Transfer to a container, cover, and refrigerate. (Tightly covered, the vinaigrette will keep for up to 1 week in the refrigerator. Whisk before using to re-emulsify if necessary.)

For the salad: Using a sharp knife, cut away the skin from each piece of peach and discard. Lay the peaches and tomatoes on a platter in a single layer. Drizzle with the pawpaw vinaigrette and season lightly with coarse salt and pepper.

Divide the peaches and tomatoes among four plates. Spoon the cottage cheese in between the peaches and tomatoes and top the salads with the watercress.

⅓ cup plus 1 tablespoon soy sauce, preferably Bourbon Barrel Bluegrass Soy Sauce (see Resources)

⅓ cup plus 2 teaspoons Lindera Farms Hickory Vinegar (see Resources) or apple cider vinegar

2 tablespoons green peanut oil, preferably Oliver Farm Green Peanut Oil (see Resources)

Asparagus is one of those ephemeral, fleeting vegetables that can be enjoyed for only a couple of weeks during the short season, but that makes it all the more special. My friend Brian Baxter came up with this dish, and the consistency of the vinaigrette is inspired by the traditional Japanese fermented rice beverage amazake. Although the recipe gives instructions for cooking the rice for the vinaigrette, it’s also a great way to use leftover rice you already have in your fridge.

For the rice: Combine the rice, water, and salt in a small saucepan and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat to low, cover, and simmer until the rice is soft and all the water has been absorbed, about 12 minutes. Transfer to a bowl and cool to room temperature. (The rice can be cooked ahead. Tightly covered, it will keep for up to 3 days in the refrigerator.)

For the vinaigrette: Combine all the ingredients for the vinaigrette and ¼ cup of the cooked rice in a blender and blend on high until smooth and emulsified, about 1 minute. Strain through a fine-mesh sieve into a container, cover, and set aside at room temperature. (You will need only ½ cup of the vinaigrette for this dish. Tightly covered, the remaining vinaigrette will keep for up to 5 days in the refrigerator. Whisk before using to re-emulsify if necessary.)

For the pork cracklin’s: Combine the pork skin and the pork stock in the pressure cooker. Lock on the lid, bring the cooker up to high pressure, and cook the skin for 90 minutes.

Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper. Carefully release the steam from the pressure cooker. Using a slotted spatula, carefully remove the squares of pork skin and lay them in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet, then refrigerate until cool. Strain the stock left in the cooker and freeze for another use.

When they are cool, cut the squares of skin into ¼-inch-wide strips. (The pork skins can be prepared to this point ahead. Tightly covered, they will keep for up to 1 day in the refrigerator. Bring to room temperature before frying.)

To fry the cracklin’s: Fill a deep fryer with canola oil according to the manufacturer’s directions and heat the oil to 350°F. Alternatively, fill a deep heavy pot half full with canola oil and heat the oil over medium heat to 350°F. The oil will splatter, so have a splatter guard or a lid at hand.

Cover a wire rack with paper towels. Place the rice flour in a shallow bowl. Working in batches, dredge the pork skin strips in the rice flour, shake off any excess, and fry until golden brown and crisp, about 1 minute. Transfer them to the rack and season lightly with salt. (The cracklin’s can be fried ahead. Tightly covered, they will keep for up to 1 day at room temperature in a container lined with paper towels.)

For the peanuts: Prepare a hot fire in a charcoal grill (see Grilling), removing the grill rack and distributing the hot coals in an even layer in the bottom of the grill.

Put the peanuts in the grill basket, place directly on the coals, and grill, stirring constantly with long-handled tongs, until the peanuts are a deep brown and are just starting to char, about 1 minute. Transfer the peanuts to a cutting board, sprinkle with the salt, and roughly chop, then transfer to a container, cool, cover, and set aside. Clean the grill basket to use for the asparagus and snap peas.

For the asparagus and snap peas: Place the asparagus in a bowl, add 2 tablespoons of the canola oil, season liberally with salt and white pepper, and toss to coat. Transfer to the grill basket (set the bowl aside), place it directly on the coals, and grill the asparagus, shaking often, until lightly charred and tender, about 3 minutes. Transfer to a cutting board.

Put the snap peas in the bowl you used for the asparagus, add the remaining 2 teaspoons canola oil, season liberally with salt and white pepper, and toss to coat. Transfer to the grill basket, place it directly on the coals, and grill the snap peas, shaking often, until lightly charred and tender, about 1½ minutes. Transfer them to a large bowl.

Cut the asparagus into pieces about 2½ inches long and add to the bowl with the snap peas. Shake or stir the amazake vinaigrette to make sure it is well emulsified, then add ½ cup to the asparagus and snap peas and toss well to combine.

To complete: Add the pickled green tomatoes, peanuts, basil, cilantro, and mint and toss gently. Divide the salad among four plates. Drizzle with the green peanut oil and finish with the pork cracklin’s.