MAIN DISHES

Comfort in Dining

The vacation destinations that affluent blacks began to establish during the 1890s, in tiny enclaves on the fringes of picturesque resort areas for white people, were idyllic settings. They affirmed my ancestors’ ambitions for getaway communities of their own, much like the hospitality offered by black women during the Colored Conventions Movement or the “vacation without aggravation” aid offered to Jim Crow–era tourists by The Negro Motorist Green-Book, a guide to safe places to eat and sleep—or get gas, car repairs, or a haircut—published by Victor H. Green from 1936 to 1967.

It’s not a stretch to say that these communities and service providers helped their children believe they could achieve anything.

By the 1920s, Highland Beach, Maryland; Bruce’s Beach in Manhattan Beach, California; and Oak Bluffs on Martha’s Vineyard had earned reputations for nurturing black excellence that galvanized well-heeled blacks all around the country. Near my hometown, a group of prominent black Angelenos picnicked, swam, and rode horses free from the restrictive covenants and oppressive laws that characterized urban living in the rolling hills west of the Santa Clarita Valley—a Promised Land.

Well-to-do professionals and celebrities, including Sidney P. Dones, Norman O. Houston, Joe and Charlotta Bass, and James Earl Jones, drove nearly forty miles north of Los Angeles to Eureka/Val Verde (Spanish for green valley). They invested in half-acre lots and built vacation homes where they celebrated special occasions, threw holiday parties, and splashed in the crystal blue waters of a magnificent swimming pool. Eventually, a clubhouse, tennis courts, baseball fields, a golf course, restaurants, and inns turned Val Verde into a retreat community, nicknamed the “Black Palm Springs.”

“Oh, that swimming pool,” my uncle Melvin chortled exuberantly when I asked him about Val Verde. “That pool was the gathering place. You had to have a car, or you went with the church. We went horseback riding and brought our own food. Your aunt was even crowned Miss Val Verde.”

With Val Verde, investors realized a hospitality tradition begun by gracious hosts and hostesses of color who operated boardinghouses, inns, hotels, and resorts frequented by hungry, weary travelers in the pre-Civil War era. Modeled on the refined lodging services that black innkeepers offered to white people, such as Wormley’s Hotel in the District of Columbia, African American inns offered clean sheets and a good hot meal to enslaved workers traveling with planters and free people of color attending social justice meetings.

In antebellum Detroit, Benjamin “Pap” Singleton’s boardinghouse welcomed fugitive slaves; the Dumas Hotel in Cincinnati was a place where African American servants socialized with other black people while traveling with their owners. Gracy Jones advertised board and lodging in New York for all “genteel persons of color.” A month later, her competitor Eliza Johnson stepped up her game, advertising that she not only provided lodging and boarding but also oysters and “a quantity of the best Refreshments.”

Fine foods served on white linen with polished silver helped business grow.

An 1848 advertisement revealed the kind of food service George Downing offered in Rhode Island at his Sea Girt Hotel: “a suite of Game and Oyster Supper Rooms on Cottage Street, where he will have on hand New York Oysters, Woodcock, Soft Crabs, Lobster Salid [sic], Green Turtle soup, Ice Cream, Confectionary, &c.” Malinda Russell kept a boardinghouse where she pleased visitors with delectable breads, cakes, pies, and pastries in Tennessee. Later she opened her own bakery and published recipes from her enterprises—the first cookbook published by a black woman. And successful businesswomen Mary Ellen Pleasant of San Francisco, Rebecca Howard in Olympia, Washington, and Lucretia “Aunt Lou” Marchbanks in the Black Hills of South Dakota earned formidable reputations out West, providing excellent service, good food, and fine hospitality in boardinghouses, hotels, and dining halls that they purchased themselves.

But it was the health resort-getaway that Annie Box and Curly Neal operated in Oracle, Arizona, that got me thinking about the ambitious aspirations behind the founding of Val Verde and all that black lodging had accomplished. “The most luxurious hotel in the west”—that’s how observers described the Mountain View Hotel, a 160-acre ranch, health sanatorium, and recreational playground where fine music, entertainment, rodeos, and exquisite dining for the very wealthy were the “epitome of Western opulence.”

I never visited Val Verde. By the time my vacation memories started forming, segregation was in its waning years, and black families had stopped driving long distances to create social, cultural, and recreational activities for themselves. Instead, my parents and their friends formed a boat club, named themselves the Sea Searchers, and intentionally launched their speed boats in Southern California’s friendlier lakes and beaches—many of them located in that same region of Eureka. I learned to water ski just west of Val Verde on Lake Cachuma; we fished for bluegill and large-mouth bass at nearby Castaic Lake.

We ate simply but well. As if to sustain the ancestors’ hospitable spirit, families often fried the day’s catch in a communal pot near the campfire. Mom channeled Western cooks on the ranch and on wagon trains, simmering a big pot of chili, beef stew, or beans during the day. The men carried on cowboy barbecue traditions with slow-smoked ribs and sausage, or grilled steaks marinated in cracked black pepper, soy sauce, and Worcestershire sauce.

Today, I savor my connection to generations who extended food and fellowship in public spaces, as well as the homemakers and hosts listed in The Negro Motorist Green-Book. They provided safe places to eat and sleep during segregation, healed bodies and spirits with comforting and lavish meals, treated weary travelers like distinguished guests, and made it all seem commonplace, as it should be.

Beef Stew with a French Attitude

Braising tough meat harkens back to a time when cooks of every station made ends meet by tenderizing lesser cuts with long simmering. Remember the oxtails, short ribs, and pot roasts that bubbled for hours in velvety gravy before being served by Grandmother with mashed potatoes, noodles, or rice?

In elite circles, African American caterers and cooks to the wealthy, Jesse Lewis among them, became “adept at making other cuisines besides southern food, and most often it was French food, the ‘official cuisine’ of high society in America,” Adrian Miller wrote in The President’s Kitchen Cabinet. First as a teenager waiting tables in a boardinghouse, then as a cook on a Mobile–New Orleans tug, Lewis refined his dexterity with regional dishes in the resort town of Bay St. Louis, Mississippi. Whether it was the “ragout of oxtail supreme” Lewis spiced with cloves and allspice in his 1954 recipe collection, Jesse’s Book of Creole and Deep South Recipes, or any one of the dishes created for American presidents, black professionals have intoxicated politicians, socialites, their wealthy friends, and guests with Frenchified cooking that is still evident in African American cookbooks to this day.

Recipe titles hinted at French techniques. Roti de boeuf, beef with lardons, or beef à la mode levitated ordinary beef stew on status-seeking menus, but know that while the results in these recipes impress, the method for making them isn’t too far from the all-too-familiar beef stew. You’ll want to pass around plenty of crusty bread or hot buttered Rice Muffins (this page) to soak up the exquisite pan juices—whatever you decide to call the dishes.

BEEF WITH ONIONS AND WINE

SERVES 6

This is a version of the French stew beef bourguignon. If the thought of making what legendary singer Mahalia Jackson called “oven beef Burgundy” seems fussy, though, think of it as she did—just as beef pot roast with a bunch of onions, dressed up with red wine.

In the classic French preparation, layered flavors from sautéed meat, vegetables, and long-simmered pearl onions give the dish a robust character. Edna Lewis grated onions and added an additional onion stuck with cloves to the braising liquid for a refined sweetness and depth. Mahalia Jackson stirred everything together for an effortless dish. Mine is a mash-up of those (with a bit of Julia Child’s version mixed in) that tastes even better the next day.

1 pound pearl onions

½ pound sliced bacon

2½ pounds beef stew meat or chuck, cut into 1½-inch pieces

2 teaspoons salt, plus more to taste

1½ teaspoons black pepper

½ teaspoon dried thyme

2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

2 cups sliced onions

2 large carrots, cut into ½-inch-thick slices

4 garlic cloves, minced

1 pound mushrooms, cut into ¼-inch-thick slices

4 cups red wine

1 tablespoon tomato paste

1 bay leaf

Minced parsley, for garnish

Freshly cooked mashed potatoes, noodles, or rice, for serving

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F.

2. Place the pearl onions in a bowl. Pour in enough water to cover the onions and set aside to soak for 10 to 15 minutes to loosen the skins. Use your fingers to rub the skins loose and peel the onions. Use a sharp knife to make a small X on the stem end.

3. In a large Dutch oven, cook the bacon in batches over medium heat until crisp, about 7 minutes per batch. Remove the bacon, leaving the drippings in the pan, and crumble the bacon when cool enough to handle.

4. Pat the meat dry with paper towels. In a shallow dish or paper bag, combine salt, pepper, thyme, and flour. Place the beef in the dish and dust or shake the meat with the seasoned flour to entirely coat.

5. In the Dutch oven, heat the bacon fat over medium-high heat. Add the meat to the pan in batches, being careful not to crowd the pan, and sear until deeply browned, then turn and sear on all sides. This can take some time. Use a slotted spoon to remove the seared meat to a platter and set the meat aside.

6. Add the sliced onions and carrots to the pan and cook, stirring, over medium-high heat until tender-crisp. As you stir, scrape the bottom of the pan to pick up any browned bits and dissolve them into the vegetables. Add the garlic and cook 30 seconds. Remove the vegetables to the platter with the meat. Add the mushrooms to the pan and sauté until tender. Return the meat, vegetables, and any juices that collect on the plate to the pot. Stir in the wine, tomato paste, and bay leaf.

7. Bring to a simmer, cover the pot tightly, and transfer to the oven. Bake for 2 hours. Stir the pearl onions and bacon into the pan and add salt to taste, remembering that it will concentrate somewhat as it continues to cook. Bake until the meat is very tender, about 1 hour more. If necessary, add a little water or stock if the liquid seems thick.

8. Before serving, remove and discard the bay leaf. Sprinkle the stew with parsley and serve with mashed potatoes, noodles, or rice.

POT ROAST WITH RUM

Recipes and Domestic Service: The Mahammitt School of Cookery, Mrs. T. P. (Sarah Helen) Mahammitt, 1939

3 pounds rump roast

1 small bottle of stuffed olives

1 garlic clove

¼ cup water

¼ pound salt pork

2 tablespoons rum

2 teaspoons salt

⅛ teaspoon cayenne pepper

¼ cup butter

¼ cup shortening

2 cups tomatoes

Lard the roast with salt pork. Wipe roast and cut small slits in roast with sharp knife, alternate with the pork. Stuff olives in the slits. Brown the roast in butter and place in cooker kettle. Cook 1½ hours. During the last hour add the tomatoes and rum and continue to cook one hour. Serve sliced, with gravy made from liquid in the cooker kettle.

COFFEE-SCENTED SHORT RIBS BRAISED IN RED WINE

SERVES 4

This dish is an innovation on classic braised short ribs. I massage the ribs with a seductive mixture of coffee, cocoa, and spices before simmering in red wine and beef stock until the meat practically falls from the bone—a trick I discovered in contemporary writer Nicole Taylor’s The Up South Cookbook. I retained the molasses traditionally called for because I love its somewhat tannic character, and I gave the dish a boost of sweetness with brown sugar. Extra beef stock ensures there is plenty of it to soak into the hot, creamy grits.

1 tablespoon brown sugar

1 tablespoon unsweetened cocoa powder

1 tablespoon ground coffee

½ teaspoon chili powder

½ teaspoon ground allspice

½ teaspoon ground cinnamon

2 teaspoons salt, plus more to taste

1 teaspoon black pepper

4 pounds bone-in short ribs, cut into 2-inch pieces by the butcher

⅓ cup bacon drippings or vegetable oil

1½ cups coarsely chopped onions

1½ tablespoons minced garlic (5 to 6 cloves)

1 cup coarsely chopped carrots

1 cup coarsely chopped celery

2 teaspoons dried thyme

2 teaspoons dried rosemary

3 cups red wine

3 cups Beef Stock (recipe follows)

2 bay leaves

1½ cups molasses

Freshly cooked grits or mashed potatoes

1. In a small bowl, stir together the brown sugar, cocoa powder, ground coffee, chili powder, allspice, cinnamon, salt, and pepper. Pat the short ribs dry with paper towels, and rub and press the seasoning mixture into the meat with your fingers. Let sit for 1 hour, or up to 1 day, covered and refrigerated.

2. In a Dutch oven, heat the bacon fat over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add the ribs, working in batches if necessary to prevent crowding, and sear until well browned, about 5 minutes per side. Transfer the ribs to a plate and set aside.

3. Add the onions, garlic, carrots, and celery to the pot and cook, stirring to loosen any browned bits and dissolve them into the vegetables, until the onions are translucent, about 8 minutes. Add the thyme and rosemary and cook for 30 seconds. Add the wine and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer for 5 minutes. Stir in the beef stock, bay leaves, and 1 cup of molasses. Return the short ribs and any juices that have accumulated on the plate to the pan. Taste and season with more salt if necessary to balance the sweetness, but keep in mind that the sauce will cook and concentrate. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to a gentle simmer, partially cover, and cook for 1 hour.

4. Use a slotted spoon to remove the ribs to a clean plate. Strain the braising juices in a colander and discard the solids. Refrigerate the juices until the fat rises to the top. Skim off and discard the fat. Return the juices to the pan, stir in the remaining ½ cup molasses and more salt, as needed, and return the ribs to the pan. Bring back up to a simmer and cook until the meat is tender, about 30 minutes.

5. Spoon the grits or mashed potatoes onto serving plates. Top with the ribs and spoon the sauce around the edge of the plate, or pass the sauce separately.

BEEF STOCK

MAKES ABOUT 1 QUART

2½ pounds beef soup bones

1 carrot, peeled and cut in half

1 celery stalk, cut in half, with leaves

1 garlic clove, smashed

½ onion, quartered

1 bay leaf

2 thyme sprigs

1 teaspoon black peppercorns

1. Preheat the oven to 425˚F.

2. Place the bones in a roasting pan and roast for 45 minutes, until well browned. Transfer the bones to a large, heavy soup pot. Add the carrot, celery, garlic, onion, bay leaf, thyme, peppercorns, and 4 quarts water. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer, partially covered, for at least 8 hours, adding water as needed to keep the bones submerged.

3. Use a fine-mesh sieve to strain the broth. Discard the solids and refrigerate the stock overnight. The next day, remove and discard the layer of fat that has formed on the top of the stock. Reduce the stock, or add water, if need be, to maintain 1 quart. Pour the stock into jars and refrigerate for up to 1 week, or freeze for up to 6 months.

Lamb

Caroline Randall Williams’s grandmother Joan didn’t hand down china or jewelry when she passed away. But she left her collection of more than one thousand cookbooks, a source of pride and empowerment that was “a central aspect of her identity,” Caroline and her mother, Alice Randall, passionately explained in Soul Food Love: Healthy Recipes Inspired by One Hundred Years of Cooking in a Black Family.

“While remaining rooted to black Southern country cooking, hard-times-in-Harlem cuisine, and the fare of intellectual black expatriates abroad,” the recipes in the cookbook collection reveal one woman’s connection to kitchens around the world. From these, the mother-daughter duo crafted a healthier approach to soul cooking.

Their roast leg of lamb is accented with garlic and fresh herbs—a simplified reworking of an Easter classic that African Americans adapted from barbecued mutton. Reading that recipe, and recalling the diverse, global perspectives in Caroline’s cookbook collection, had me thinking about the appropriateness of lamb on the African American table. Lamb spans so many traditions on the African continent: from a chunky stew imbued with Moroccan spices, or cooked with okra and tomatoes in Egypt, to lamb chops simmered with garlic-pepper-laced tomato gravy in Ghana, to the many lamb curries from South Africa and throughout the Caribbean. American adaptations in this canon are right where they belong.

ROAST LEG OF LAMB WITH ROSEMARY

SERVES 8 TO 10

Edna Lewis’s third cookbook, In Pursuit of Flavor, is not as popular as her other titles, but I love it. She describes her secret for coaxing the natural goodness from the flavorful cut of roasted lamb leg she portrayed as “exotic”: “I rub the outside of the tied-up leg with butter to help it brown, to add flavor, and to keep it from drying out. Deglaze the pan with less than 1 tablespoon of water and scrape up all the browned bits and juices. Turn into a warm bowl and pass with the slices of lamb after it is carved,” with small white roasted potatoes and fresh asparagus. Heavenly.

Oil, for the roasting pan

1 (4- to 5-pound) trimmed boneless leg of lamb, butterflied

4 tablespoons olive oil

¼ cup minced fresh flat-leaf parsley, plus 4 sprigs

2 tablespoons minced fresh rosemary, plus 4 sprigs

6 garlic cloves, minced

1 tablespoon salt, or to taste

1 teaspoon black pepper

20 small red potatoes, peeled and quartered

1. Preheat the oven to 375°F. Lightly grease a large roasting pan with oil.

2. Place the leg of lamb on a board. Open the lamb and place it fat side down. Pat dry with paper towels, if needed. Drizzle the lamb with 2 tablespoons of the olive oil. In a small bowl, combine the minced parsley, minced rosemary, and garlic. Rub over the entire surface of the lamb. Season with 1½ teaspoons of the salt and ½ teaspoon of the pepper. Roll up the lamb into as tight a cylinder as you can, and tie it with kitchen twine at 1-inch intervals so the meat holds its shape. Rub the lamb with the remaining 2 tablespoons oil, and season with the remaining 1½ teaspoons salt and ½ teaspoon pepper.

3. Place the herb sprigs in the bottom of the roasting pan. Arrange the potatoes on top of the herbs. Add the lamb, resting it on the potatoes so they will be flavored with its juices, and roast until a meat thermometer inserted into the center of the meat registers 130°F for medium-rare or 140°F for medium, 1 to 1½ hours.

4. Transfer the roast to a carving board, tent with foil, and let rest for 10 minutes. Strain the pan juices into a cup. Let sit or refrigerate until the fat rises to the top, then skim off fat. Remove and discard the twine, and thinly slice the roast. Surround the lamb with roasted potatoes, drizzle with the juices, and serve.

ROAST SHOULDER OR LEG OF MUTTON STUFFED

Hotel Keepers, Head Waiters, and Housekeepers’ Guide, Tunis G. Campbell, 1848

Stuff a leg of mutton with mutton-suet, salt, pepper, nutmeg, grated bread, and yolks of eggs; then stick it all over with cloves, and roast it; when it is about half done cut off some of the under side of the fleshy end in little bits; put those into a pipkin with a pint of oysters, liquor and all, a little salt and mace, and half a pint of hot water; stew them till half the liquor is wasted, then put in a piece of butter rolled in flour, shake all together, and when the mutton is done enough take it up; pour the sauce over it, and send it to table.

BRAISED LAMB SHANKS WITH PEANUT SAUCE (MAFÉ)

SERVES 4 TO 6

Chef Pierre Thiam’s spectacular cookbook Senegal: Modern Senegalese Recipes from the Source to the Bowl is breathtakingly beautiful, with modern interpretations for old-world standards like this lamb shank mafé. Traditionally a braise given depth with tomato paste and peanut butter, it bears resemblance to the West African Groundnut Stew (this page), but is richer.

For a fresh finish, this recipe concludes with a punch from a condiment that combines Senegalese rof, a parsley stuffing for fish, with Italian gremolata, a topping made traditionally with herbs, lemon zest, and garlic.

Serve this with rice pilaf, cooked couscous, or fonio, a West African “superfood” grain.

2 tablespoons tomato paste

4 cups Beef Stock (this page)

1 cup creamy peanut butter

4 lamb shanks, about 2 pounds total

1½ teaspoons salt

¾ teaspoon black pepper

2 tablespoons vegetable or olive oil

2 cups thinly sliced onions

3 garlic cloves, minced

½ to 1 teaspoon minced Scotch bonnet pepper, to taste

1 teaspoon dried thyme

2 large bay leaves

2 carrots, peeled and cut in quarters

Rof Gremolata (recipe follows), for serving

Hot cooked rice, couscous, or fonio, for serving

1. In a small bowl, combine the tomato paste with ¼ cup of the stock. Stir the peanut butter into the remaining stock. Set both mixtures aside.

2. Place the shanks on a board and pat dry with paper towels. Season with ½ teaspoon salt and ¼ teaspoon black pepper. In a Dutch oven, heat the oil over medium-high heat until shimmering, then add the shanks and cook until evenly browned on all sides, about 15 minutes total. Work in batches if necessary. Do not crowd the pan.

3. Remove the shanks to a platter and set aside. Add the onions to the pan and brown, stirring occasionally, about 10 minutes. Add the garlic, chile pepper, and thyme and cook for 30 seconds. Reduce the heat to low, add the tomato paste mixture to the onions, and cook 7 to 10 minutes, until the broth is completely evaporated.

4. Stir in the peanut butter-stock mixture, bay leaves, and carrots. Season with the remaining 1 teaspoon salt and ½ teaspoon black pepper. Return the lamb and any juices that have collected on the platter to the pan. Bring the pot to a boil, then reduce heat to low and simmer, covered, 1 hour.

5. Uncover, increase the heat to medium, and simmer 30 minutes more to allow the gravy to thicken and the meat to become fork-tender. If necessary, let it cook longer, until the shanks are very tender. Add a little more stock or water if doing so, to prevent the sauce from getting too thick. Taste and adjust seasonings.

6. Garnish with a spoonful of rof gremolata, and serve with rice, couscous, or fonio.

ROF GREMOLATA

MAKES ABOUT 1 CUP

½ cup minced fresh parsley

3 green onions, minced

2 garlic cloves, minced

½ Scotch bonnet pepper, seeded and minced, or to taste

Grated zest of 1 lemon

Salt and pepper

In a small bowl, combine the parsley, onions, garlic, chile pepper, and lemon zest. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Refrigerate up to 1 week, tightly covered.

LAMB CURRY

SERVES 4

South African curries are a blend of Malay and Indian influences. To make a good curry, The Africa News Cookbook insists, the cook must quickly sauté onions in ghee (clarified butter) until golden, then simmer together lamb cubes, a fragrant spice blend, and tomatoes until the flavors are well married. Curry traveled to the Caribbean, where gamey mutton or goat became a Jamaican favorite; in the French islands, lamb is the meat of choice. Stateside, home cooks have stewed lamb chunks with allspice, cloves, and vegetables.

I weaved together aspects of three dishes for this lamb curry to make it my own: toasting the spices and creating a layer of sweetness from green apples. My inspiration for this recipe comes from Alexander Smalls and J. J. Johnson’s Between Harlem and Heaven: Afro-Asian-American Cooking for Big Nights, Weeknights, and Every Day; elements of African technique are courtesy of Marcus Samuelsson’s The Soul of a New Cuisine; and the splash of rum and lime juice added just before serving, to complement the mild spice, was something I discovered in Dunston Harris’s Island Cooking: Recipes from the Caribbean.

2 pounds lamb shoulder or leg, cut into 1-inch cubes

Salt and black pepper

2 tablespoons olive or vegetable oil

2 tablespoons butter

1 cup coarsely chopped onions

2 tablespoons minced green bell pepper

2 tablespoons minced celery

2 teaspoons minced garlic

2 tablespoons curry powder, to taste

1 tablespoon tomato paste

1½ cups diced tomatoes

2 cups Chicken Stock (this page) or water

1 bay leaf

2 medium green apples, peeled and cubed

2 tablespoons rum (optional)

1 tablespoon fresh lime juice (optional)

Freshly cooked rice

1. Place the lamb on a platter and pat dry with paper towels. Season all over with 1½ teaspoons salt and ½ teaspoon pepper. Let stand for 2 hours.

2. In a large Dutch oven or deep skillet, heat the oil over medium-high heat until sizzling. Working in batches to avoid crowding the pan, add the lamb and sear until browned and crusty, turning to cook on all sides, 5 to 8 minutes. Use a slotted spoon to remove the lamb to a plate.

3. Add the butter to the pan and sauté the onions, bell pepper, celery, and garlic until the onion is translucent, about 5 minutes. Sprinkle the curry powder over the vegetables and cook, stirring constantly, until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Return the lamb to the pan with the tomato paste, tomatoes, chicken stock, and bay leaf.

4. Reduce the heat to medium-low, cover, and simmer until the meat is tender and the sauce is thick, about 1½ hours. Add the apples to the pan during the last 30 minutes of cooking time. Remove and discard the bay leaf. Stir in the rum and lime juice, if using, and heat for 1 minute. Serve with rice.

Barbecue and Roast Pork

“The thirty-thousand year old practice of cooking over an open fire continues to be an integral part of Africa’s culinary heritage,” Heidi Haughy Cusick explained in Soul and Spice: African Cooking in the Americas. “In Togo today, street vendors cook michui, spicy skewered fish and meat, over charcoal. In Mali, whole goats are still ceremoniously roasted for weddings and other special occasions. Sidewalk vendors from West Africa to the Caribbean grill plantains to eat as a snack or with spicy grilled meats or stews; and in Bahia they carry small lighted charcoal-filled drums with grates on top for cooking fresh cheese.”

But when we think of American barbecue, images of well-seasoned ribs, brisket, whole hog, and poultry slow-roasted and smoked over hardwood charcoal replace Old World techniques that grilled quickly over an open flame. The practice is attributed to the Taino, an Arawak tribe in the West Indies, who preserved food by smoke-drying it over a pit fire on a wooden grate called a barbacoa. Spanish explorers brought the device and the word to the American Southeast during the early sixteenth century. By 1709, the word “barbecue” was in use in America; it had taken on the implications of a social gathering by 1733; and George Washington mentioned attending a barbecue in his journal in 1769, according to The Encyclopedia of American Food & Drink.

The enslaved barbecued whole suckling pigs, called shoats, during hog killing time. Mutton and rabbits went into the pit to celebrate special occasions. And when the meat on the grill was of poor quality, they fashioned a barbecue sauce from spicy red peppers mixed with vinegar to mask the taste. After the Civil War, barbecuing became an integral part of Juneteenth celebrations.

I love the story of Bluebill Yancey, one of those “pit artists” whose legendary barbecue was a fixture of Mississippi politics during the mid-1930s. Candidates hired him often because his barbecue brought “dead enemies” together to chat “as if food and drink have eradicated all differences,” a WPA interviewer recalled. Yancey was eccentric, too. He cooked according to the stages of the moon, believed that the presence of women stopped the meat from breathing freely, used chicken fat in his mop sauce, and paced “ceaselessly—up one side to turn the meat, down the other to baste it”—all night long. Yancey’s secret sauce of vinegar, bay leaves, lemon, pickling spices, onion, and generous amounts of garlic and paprika is a throwback to the plantation legacy that miraculously transformed simple meats into an American tradition.

This legacy was remembered by pitmaster Wesley Jones. In the Slave Narratives, Jones described a similar barbecue ritual on a South Carolina farm: “Night befo’ dem barbecues. I used to stay up all night a-cooking and basting de meats wid barbecue sass. It made of vinegar, black and red pepper, salt, butter, a little sage, coriander, basil, onion, and garlic. Some folks drop a little sugar in it. On a long pronged stick I wraps a soft rag or cotton fer a swab, and all de night long I swabs dat meat ’till it drip into de fire. Dem drippings change de smoke into seasoned fumes dat smoke de meat. We turn de meat over and swab it dat way all night long ’till it ooze seasoning and bake all through.”

Barbecue—and its cousin, roast pork—is one of those everlasting dishes: a mainstay on our menus, whether it’s a dish of pulled or chopped pork roast, spareribs, or baby backs nursed in a ten-foot pit with wire mesh stretched over smoldering hot coals. From Puerto Rican–seasoned back bones to shoulder roasts rubbed with Creole spices or marinated in Jamaican jerk seasonings and citrus juice, our barbecue is kissed with a touch of the African diaspora.

CARIBBEAN ROAST PORK

SERVES 6 TO 8

The power behind the dish Arturo Schomburg called “West Indies pork” is the spice-blending prowess of cooks in the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, and Jamaica. This roast calls on beloved island flavors like ginger, allspice, and rum and was influenced by recipes from both photographer/cookbook author John Pinderhughes and superstar singer/cookbook author Kelis.

1 (4- to 5-pound) bone-in pork shoulder

4 garlic cloves, thinly sliced, plus 2 teaspoons minced garlic

1 tablespoon salt

1 teaspoon garlic powder

1 teaspoon onion powder

1 teaspoon ground coriander

1 teaspoon paprika

1 teaspoon black pepper

1½ teaspoons ground allspice

1½ teaspoons ground ginger

½ cup packed light brown sugar

¼ cup dark rum

1 teaspoon fresh lime juice

1. Place the pork on a board and pat dry with paper towels, if needed. Place the pork on a rack in a heavy roasting pan. Using the tip of a sharp knife, make 1-inch-deep incisions all over the surface of the roast. Insert the garlic slices into the slits.

2. In a small bowl, combine the salt, garlic powder, onion powder, coriander, paprika, pepper, and 1 teaspoon each of the allspice and ginger. Use your fingers to press the rub into the roast to completely coat it on all sides. Let rest for 30 minutes or refrigerate, covered, up to 24 hours. (If refrigerated, let stand at room temperature 1 hour before roasting.)

3. Preheat the oven to 350°F.

4. Carefully pour about 1 cup water into the bottom of the roasting pan. Set a rack in the roasting pan and the pork on the rack. Cover with foil. Roast for 3 hours, basting every 45 minutes.

5. Meanwhile, in a small bowl, combine the brown sugar, rum, lime juice, minced garlic, and remaining ½ teaspoon each of the allspice and ginger. Uncover the roast. Spread the paste over the meat and return it to the oven. Continue to roast until the outside is nicely browned, about 1½ hours, until the internal temperature reaches 185°F and the paste is sealed onto the roast. Let rest 10 minutes before slicing.

PICKLED ROAST PIG

A Domestic Cook Book, Malinda Russell, 1866

Dress and stuff your pig, put it into a dripping pan and put it baking; take one pint of strong vinegar, Madeira wine, or currant wine, put into a basin with half lb butter; boil together; stir in a little batter made of flour and water; baste the meat with this quite often until done.

BARBECUED PORK SHOULDER

SERVES 8 TO 10

Heidi Haughy Cusick celebrated the tastes and textures of the American South, plus Brazilian, Creole, and Caribbean cuisines, in Soul and Spice: African Cooking in the Americas. She discovered a smoky sandwich meat with a recipe much like this one in Memphis, Tennessee, that recalls the mop sauces pitmasters have used for generations to deeply infuse meat with flavor during the long, slow cooking process. It is boldly spiced, moist, and absolutely delicious with its pairing of dark, sweet, mysterious molasses barbecue sauce.

1 (4- to 5-pound) pork shoulder, bone-in or boneless

1 tablespoon garlic powder

1 tablespoon salt, or to taste

1 teaspoon black pepper

1 teaspoon cayenne pepper

1 teaspoon smoked paprika

¼ cup vegetable oil

Molasses Barbecue Sauce (recipe follows), for serving

1. Place the pork on a board and pat it dry with paper towels. In a large zip-top plastic bag, combine the garlic powder, salt, black pepper, cayenne, smoked paprika, and oil. Add the pork to the bag, close the bag, and turn it over several times to thoroughly coat the pork with the spice paste. Refrigerate for at least 8 hours, or overnight.

2. Prepare a charcoal fire on one side of a barbecue grill or heat one side of a gas grill. When the temperature inside the grill is 250°F, place the pork on the cooler side of the grill, away from the heat. Cover the grill and grill the pork, turning occasionally, until a meat thermometer inserted in the center of the meat reaches 185°F, 3 to 4 hours. Add additional wood or coals as needed to maintain the temperature at 250°F. (Use smoke chips, if desired, according to manufacturer’s directions, if using a gas grill.) Remove the pork to a board and let stand for 10 minutes. Use a sharp knife to slice the pork across the grain and chop. Or, when cool enough to handle, use a fork to pull the pork into shreds. Serve with Molasses Barbecue Sauce.

MOLASSES BARBECUE SAUCE

MAKES ABOUT 2½ CUPS

2 tablespoons butter

1 garlic clove, minced

2 tablespoons minced onion

1⅓ cups ketchup

¼ cup cider vinegar

¼ cup molasses

1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

2 tablespoons brown sugar

2 teaspoons yellow mustard

½ teaspoon smoked paprika

½ teaspoon cayenne pepper

½ teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon black pepper

¼ teaspoon chili powder

In a saucepan, heat the butter until sizzling. Add the garlic and onion and cook over medium-low heat until tender, about 2 minutes. Stir in ½ cup water, the ketchup, vinegar, molasses, Worcestershire sauce, lemon juice, brown sugar, mustard, smoked paprika, cayenne, salt, black pepper, and chili powder. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce the heat to a gentle simmer, cover, and cook for 20 minutes to allow the flavors to mingle.

Ribs

When the intoxicating perfume of hardwood is as thick as coastal fog, you will have arrived at Rodney Scott’s Whole Hog BBQ in Charleston. The James Beard Award–winning pitmaster, originally from Hemingway, South Carolina, started slow-smoking pork when he was just eleven years old, on hog pits his family built themselves behind a convenience store located on an old highway that ran through town. Scott descends from a tradition perfected by black men who have been cooking whole hogs over glowing coals to celebrate hog butcherings, summer holidays, and family reunions since slavery days.

For many, that image is the essence of the barbecue tradition, and these same people may not appreciate the baked ribs with sauce I’m suggesting here as an alternative to pit barbecue—for when the pit is just too far away, or it’s too cold outside, or you just can’t get your hands on a whole pig. For the fully committed, or if you are just plain curious about the long, slow process, the Scott family’s recipe is presented on this page. And for the rest of us, I recommend the two rib recipes that follow; they are divine.

JAMAICAN JERK RIBS WITH PINEAPPLE-MANGO SALSA

SERVES 4

Kelis once sang, “My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard”; now she’s pumping out culinary jams as a classically trained chef, author, and restaurant owner. In one of her many new-fashioned approaches, she massages pork ribs with classic jerk seasonings, then bastes them with a sweet-hot sauce while they bake. Found all along the highway between Montego Bay and Ocho Rios, jerk pork was created by escaped slaves, called maroons, who survived in the Jamaican mountains on a highly spiced delicacy of wild boar slow-cooked over a fire of green allspice branches. The list of savory jerk spices and fragrant herbs is long, traced to the West and Central African custom of smoking and drying highly-seasoned bush (wild game) meats, but that is what makes the dish so appealing.

Serve these ribs as I do, with a cooling side of Pineapple-Mango Salsa, and you’ll be singing, “Damn right, it’s better than yours,” too. The explosive contrast between the tropical fruit and the high spice on the meat is superb.

6 pounds pork spareribs, St. Louis-style, or baby back ribs

Jerk Rub (recipe follows)

¼ cup packed brown sugar

½ cup cider vinegar

½ cup fresh orange juice

2 tablespoons fresh lime juice

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 to 2 minced Scotch bonnet peppers, to taste

1 cup minced onion

½ cup minced green bell pepper

4 garlic cloves, peeled but whole

¼ cup molasses

¼ cup soy sauce

Pineapple-Mango Salsa (recipe follows), for serving

1. Place the ribs on a board and pat dry with paper towels, if needed. Use your fingers to press the jerk rub into the ribs to completely coat. Place the ribs, bone side down, in 2 large roasting pans. Refrigerate for at least 1 hour or overnight.

2. Preheat the oven to 400°F.

3. Cover the pans tightly with foil and roast 1½ hours, switching the pans from the top to the bottom rack halfway through the cooking time.

4. Meanwhile, in a blender or a food processor, combine the brown sugar, vinegar, orange juice, lime juice, olive oil, chile pepper, onion, bell pepper, garlic, molasses, and soy sauce. Process until smooth. Transfer the mixture to a medium saucepan and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce the heat to medium and simmer until the jerk sauce is darkened in color, 10 to 15 minutes.

5. Remove the ribs from the oven. Uncover, and use a basting brush or the back of a spoon to coat the ribs evenly with the jerk sauce. Cook, uncovered, basting with the sauce every 5 minutes, until the ribs are well glazed and sticky, about 15 minutes more. Serve with pineapple-mango salsa and the remaining jerk sauce on the side.

JERK RUB

Try this exceptional seasoning mix on chicken as well as ribs and grill over hardwood coals.

1 tablespoon ground allspice

½ teaspoon ground cinnamon

½ teaspoon ground or freshly grated nutmeg

1 teaspoon ground sage

2 tablespoons garlic powder

4 teaspoons salt, or to taste

1 teaspoon black pepper

1 teaspoon cayenne pepper

1 teaspoon smoked paprika

In a small bowl, combine the allspice, cinnamon, nutmeg, sage, garlic powder, salt, black pepper, cayenne, and paprika.

PINEAPPLE-MANGO SALSA

MAKES ABOUT 3½ CUPS

2 cups finely diced pineapple

1 cup chopped fresh mango

¼ cup minced red bell pepper

¼ cup minced red onion

1 tablespoon chopped fresh cilantro

½ hot chile pepper, minced, to taste

1 small garlic clove, minced

¼ cup fresh lime juice

¼ cup vegetable oil

¼ teaspoon salt

In a small bowl, combine the pineapple, mango, bell pepper, onion, cilantro, chile pepper, and garlic. Stir in the lime juice, oil, and salt. Let stand at room temperature at least 1 hour to allow the flavors to mingle. May be refrigerated, but bring to room temperature to serve.

The Scott Family’s South Carolina Whole Hog

Smokestack Lightning: Adventures in the Heart of Barbecue Country, Lolis Eric Elie, 1996

1 hog, 80 to 130 pounds, dressed and butterflied

Vinegar and water

Salt, black pepper, and red pepper

Burn oak or another hard wood down to coals. Shovel the coals into the pit in such a way as to form a square roughly the size of the butterflied hog. Put the hog on the grill. Cook it skin side up (basting with a sop sauce of vinegar, water, salt and pepper), adding coals to the pit approximately every 25 to 30 minutes and adding wood to the coal fire as needed. Cook skin side up for approximately 4 to 6 hours. When the skin has begun to curl, it’s time to turn the hog over. Once the hog is on the pit skin side down, spread coals under the entire body, rather than in a square. Pour sauce into the body of the hog as the skin is crisping. Once the skin is crisp, remove the hog from the fire and serve.

OVEN-BAKED RIBS WITH COLA BARBECUE SAUCE

SERVES 8

Activist. Comedian. Drummer. Carpenter. A man of many talents and skills, Bobby Seale cofounded the Black Panther Party, initiating community-based food service programs such as free breakfast for schoolchildren.

He had a love of hickory-smoked meat. His Uncle Tom taught him the nuanced skills of a Texas barbecue pitmaster: how to place the wood in the pit and burn it down and spread the coals, the importance of having a pit fire without any flames, and a secret tenderizing method—meat dunked into a washtub of watery drippings that he calls “base” or “baste-marinade.” The base is also mopped onto the meat throughout the pit-smoking process as it browns.

With a helping hand from Seale and Uncle Tom’s smoky baste-marinade, in this dish I recreated the “fascinating aroma and taste” of the pit, but in the oven.

2 (4-pound) slabs pork spareribs, St. Louis-style

1½ teaspoons salt

1 teaspoon black pepper

1 teaspoon garlic powder

1 teaspoon onion powder

1 teaspoon smoked or sweet paprika

½ teaspoon celery salt

Baste-Marinade (recipe follows)

2 cups Cola Barbecue Sauce (recipe follows)

1. Place the spareribs on a board and pat dry with paper towels. In a small bowl, combine the salt, pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, paprika, and celery salt. Use your fingers to press the seasoning mixture into the ribs to completely coat on all sides. Let stand for 1 hour.

2. Preheat the oven broiler. Line 2 large roasting pans with foil.

3. Place the ribs in the roasting pans and broil one pan at a time, 4 to 6 inches below the heat, until browned, 3 to 5 minutes. Turn the ribs over and sear on the other side. Drain any fat that accumulates in the pan, if needed. Turn off the broiler and set the oven temperature to 375°F. Pour ¾ cup of the baste-marinade over each slab of the ribs and cover carefully but tightly with foil. Bake for 1 hour, switching the pans from the top to the bottom rack and basting with some additional marinade after 30 minutes.

4. Uncover the ribs, brush with the cola barbecue sauce, and bake, basting with the sauce every 5 minutes, until the ribs are well browned and the sauce is sticky, about 30 minutes more. When the ribs are cool enough to handle, use a sharp knife to cut the slabs between the bones. Serve the bones with any remaining barbecue sauce on the side.

BASTE-MARINADE

MAKES ABOUT 2 CUPS

1 lemon

5 sprigs parsley

⅓ cup chopped onion

¼ cup chopped red or green bell pepper

2 tablespoons chopped green onions

⅓ cup chopped celery

1 teaspoon minced Scotch bonnet or other chile pepper, or to taste

1 small garlic clove, minced

⅛ teaspoon black pepper

½ teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon onion salt

¼ teaspoon garlic salt

1 small bay leaf

¼ cup apple juice

3 tablespoons cider vinegar

2 tablespoons liquid hickory smoke

2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce

1. With a sharp knife or vegetable peeler, carefully strip off the yellow zest from the lemon, then juice the lemon and set aside. Trim the stems from the parsley and reserve the leaves for another use.

2. In a large saucepan, combine 2 cups water, the parsley stems, lemon zest, onion, bell pepper, green onions, celery, chile pepper, garlic, black pepper, salt, onion salt, garlic salt, and bay leaf. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to a gentle simmer, and cook for 30 minutes, until broth is well-seasoned and vegetables are very tender. Remove from the heat and let cool.

3. Strain the marinade through a fine-mesh sieve and return to the saucepan. Stir in the reserved lemon juice, the apple juice, vinegar, liquid smoke, and Worcestershire sauce. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat, cover, and simmer over medium-low heat to blend the flavors, 7 to 10 minutes. Remove from the heat. Cool to room temperature. Use immediately or refrigerate, covered, up to a week.

COLA BARBECUE SAUCE

MAKES ABOUT 1½ CUPS

2 tablespoons butter

1¼ cups ketchup

3 tablespoons brown sugar

6 tablespoons cider vinegar

¼ cup Worcestershire sauce

¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper

¼ teaspoon salt

¾ teaspoon paprika

2 teaspoons liquid hickory smoke

1 cup cola

In a small saucepan, combine the butter, ketchup, brown sugar, vinegar, Worcestershire sauce, cayenne, salt, paprika, and liquid smoke. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to simmer. Add the cola, cover, leaving a little vent for steam, and simmer very gently, stirring occasionally, until thick enough to cling to a spoon, about 1 hour.

BAKED HAM GLAZED WITH CHAMPAGNE

SERVES 15

To many descendants of America’s servant class, who at hog killing time helped smoke the very best parts of the pig or prepared those cuts for the planter’s table, a succulent, golden-brown ham is more than sustenance; it is the centerpiece whenever special occasions are celebrated.

We see this over and over throughout the history of black foodways. A succulent ham, studded with cloves and roasted with a brown sugar-mustard glaze, is part of the food tradition at The Big Quarterly, a religious celebration of the Africa Union Church, begun in 1814 in Wilmington, Delaware. Cooking school teacher Sarah Helen Mahammitt taught students to boil ham the old-fashioned way and offered a modern approach—baking ham with wine—in her 1939 cookbook. A decade later, Ebony food editor Freda DeKnight invited readers to bake ham with sherry or port, and to place tiny pieces of garlic in the fat covering the ham for a zesty, pungent taste. Leonard Roberts learned the craft of French cooking from his father, a railway and hotel chef, and wrote of his Frenchified soul cooking in The Negro Chef Cookbook in 1969; he glazed his ham with Champagne to make it elegant, and I adapt his recipe here.

1 (9- to 10-pound) bone-in smoked ham

2½ cups packed brown sugar

2 (750 ml) bottles extra-dry Champagne or other sparkling wine

3 tablespoons honey or maple syrup

2 tablespoons Dijon mustard

1½ teaspoons ground ginger

Pineapple slices, for serving (optional)

1. Preheat the oven to 325°F. Line a roasting pan with foil and place a rack on top of the foil.

2. Place the ham on the rack, fat side up. Using a sharp knife, score the fat across the top in a crisscross pattern, cutting just through the fat to the meat. Spoon 1 cup of the brown sugar over the top of the ham, pressing with your fingers or the back of a spoon. Carefully pour 1 bottle of Champagne over the ham and the brown sugar. Cover the ham with foil and bake for 2 hours.

3. Meanwhile, in a saucepan, combine the remaining bottle of Champagne, 1½ cups brown sugar, the honey, mustard, and ginger. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer, uncovered, until the glaze thickens, about 15 minutes.

4. Remove the ham from the oven and spoon half of the glaze on top. Keep the remaining glaze warm over low heat. Return the ham to the oven and bake, basting with the remaining glaze every 15 minutes, until a meat thermometer inserted in the ham registers 145°F, 1 hour longer or more. Tent with foil and let stand for 15 minutes before serving. Garnish with pineapple slices, if you’d like.

PORK CHOPS WITH RICH CAPER-LEMON SAUCE

SERVES 4

Chef Nathaniel Burton learned about the masters of Creole and French culinary classics—including Escoffier—while clearing tables as a busboy at the Hotel New Orleans. He went on to refine his skills at the Hotel Pontchartrain and Broussard’s before teaching the Culinary Institute of America’s apprentice cooks. He told the fascinating life stories and shared imaginative recipes from some of Louisiana’s best chefs in Creole Feast: Fifteen Master Chefs of New Orleans Reveal Their Secrets.

To update the many homestyle dishes black cooks recorded in their books, I turned to Burton’s collection of recipes. Caper sauce caught my eye. Burton’s is a classic, roux-based gravy with capers and vinegar added for punch. I exchanged his lamb with bone-in pork loin chops because the bits of fat near the bone make the meat flavorful and juicy. I replaced the vinegar with lemon juice and zest, as suggested in B. Smith Cooks Southern-Style, and simmered stock and butter together for a velvety-smooth emulsion. I love this sauce so much that I also serve it on pan-roasted veal chops.

4 bone-in pork loin chops (about 8 ounces each)

1 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste

¼ teaspoon black pepper, plus more to taste

½ teaspoon dried thyme

2 tablespoons olive oil

4 tablespoons (½ stick) butter, at room temperature

1 teaspoon minced garlic

1 tablespoon minced shallot

1½ teaspoons all-purpose flour

1 cup white wine

1½ cups Chicken Stock (this page)

2 tablespoons capers, drained

1 teaspoon freshly grated lemon zest

2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

¼ teaspoon hot pepper sauce (optional)

2 tablespoons minced fresh parsley

1. Preheat the oven to 400°F.

2. Place the chops on a board and pat dry with paper towels. Season with the salt, pepper, and thyme, rubbing with your fingers to press the seasonings into the meat. In a large ovenproof skillet, heat the oil over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add the chops and cook until well browned, 3 to 4 minutes per side. Transfer the skillet to the oven and roast until a meat thermometer inserted in the chops registers 145°F, 5 to 7 minutes, depending upon the thickness. Remove the chops from the oven, transfer to a plate, and cover to keep warm. Drain off and discard the fat.

3. In the same skillet, heat 2 tablespoons of the butter until sizzling. Add the garlic and shallot and sauté until tender, about 1 minute. Sprinkle in the flour and cook for 2 minutes more. Whisk in the wine and chicken stock and bring to a boil over high heat, scraping up the browned bits in the bottom of the pan. Reduce the heat to medium-high and cook, uncovered, until the liquid is reduced by half, about 5 minutes. Stir in the capers, lemon zest, lemon juice, hot pepper sauce (if using), and parsley and simmer 1 to 2 minutes more. Add the remaining 2 tablespoons butter to the pan ½ tablespoon at a time, shaking the pan between additions until the butter melts and the sauce looks smooth. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Pour the sauce over the pan-roasted chops and serve.

SMOTHERED PORK CHOPS

A Good Heart and a Light Hand: Ruth L. Gaskins’ Collection of Traditional Negro Recipes, Ruth L. Gaskins, 1968

Dip the chops in a mixture of flour, salt and pepper. Have ¼ inch of shortening very hot, but not smoking, in an iron skillet. Fry, uncovered, on both sides until they are brown and crispy. Chops should be fried quickly but thoroughly by keeping the shortening hot and the heat around medium.

Stewed Chicken

Known as classic French fricassee, simmering meat in a rich cream gravy is a centuries-old French blueprint elaborated on by black cooks over time to create delicacies from tough or less desirable meats, fish, or poultry. Malinda Russell simmered catfish; Rufus Estes liked it with rabbit; Mrs. W. T. Hayes enriched squirrels; Jesse Lewis, who catered in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi, during the 1950s, preferred a meaty stewing hen.

From this foundation, stewed chicken, also known as chicken and gravy, is the basis of a wide range of entrées—from one-pot meals like pot pie to composed specialties, such as chicken with rice—and there are just about as many varieties for chicken and dumplings as there are cooks who prepare it. Just don’t be confused by the name. These dishes are based on the same method as the comforting smothered chicken with onion gravy that Grandmother served on Sundays with cornbread dressing or macaroni and cheese.

CHICKEN AND DUMPLINGS

SERVES 4 TO 6

In her soul-era Black American Cook Book, Willa Mitchell recalled catching a wild hen, dressing and boiling it, then making “slick downs,” a type of noodle to help a little bit of chicken go a long way. “This is called chicken and dumplings nowadays,” she explained.

Now that chickens are easy to catch at the nearby supermarket, I brown chicken parts in butter, add a splash of white wine to the gravy for grandeur, and cut the dumplings into squares so each serving is as pretty as it is savory. For extra richness, stir warm cream into the gravy just before serving—a tip I learned from Jennifer Hill Booker’s Field Peas to Foie Gras: Southern Recipes with a French Accent. She also saves time stirring leftover roasted chicken into this dish instead of cooking a whole bird.

1 (3½- to 4-pound) frying chicken, cut into pieces

2 teaspoons salt, plus more to taste

1 teaspoon black pepper

½ teaspoon paprika

⅓ cup all-purpose flour

¼ cup bacon drippings, vegetable or olive oil, or butter

1 cup chopped onions

½ cup (¼-inch) diced celery

½ cup (¼-inch) diced carrots

2 garlic cloves, minced

½ teaspoon dried thyme

4 to 6 cups Chicken Stock (this page; see Note)

½ cup white wine (optional)

1 small bay leaf

Dumplings or Drop Dumplings (recipes follow)

1 cup heavy whipping cream or half-and-half

1 tablespoon minced fresh parsley

1. Place the chicken parts on a board and pat dry with paper towels. Season the chicken with the salt, pepper, and paprika. In a paper bag or shallow dish, coat the chicken parts with the flour. In a large heavy pot or Dutch oven, heat the bacon fat over medium-high until sizzling, and then reduce the heat to medium. Working in batches, add the chicken a few pieces at a time (do not crowd the pan) and cook until well browned, about 8 minutes per side, depending upon the size of the bird. Transfer the chicken to a plate. Add the onions, celery, carrots, garlic, and thyme to the pot and sauté until tender and fragrant, 6 to 8 minutes. Stir in the chicken stock (see Note) and wine (if using), scraping up any browned bits that are stuck to the bottom of the pan. Add salt to taste. Add the bay leaf and return the chicken to the pot. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to medium, cover, and simmer until the chicken is cooked through, about 40 minutes. Remove and discard the bay leaf.

2. Increase the heat to medium-high and heat until bubbles begin to appear around the sides of the pot. Drop the dumplings into the chicken and gravy. Reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer, covered, without opening the lid so the dumplings steam and become tender, about 15 minutes. They will resemble thick egg noodles.

3. Meanwhile, in a small saucepan, heat the cream. When the dumplings are cooked through, stir the warmed cream into the pot. Sprinkle with parsley before serving.

NOTE: Drop dumplings absorb more liquid than rolled. Start with 4 cups stock, then add ½ cup at a time during cooking, as needed, depending on how thick you want the gravy to be.

DUMPLINGS

MAKES 4 TO 6 SERVINGS

2 cups all-purpose flour

½ teaspoon baking powder

½ teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon dried thyme

2 tablespoons rendered chicken fat or shortening, chilled and cut into pieces

2 large eggs

½ cup whole milk

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt, and thyme. Sprinkle the chicken fat over the flour mixture. Use your fingertips, a pastry blender, or two knives to cut the fat into the dry ingredients. In a small bowl or measuring cup, combine the eggs and milk. Use a fork to stir the egg mixture into the flour mixture, stirring just until a sticky dough forms. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface and knead for 5 minutes, until the dough is smooth and resembles pie dough. Chill the dough for 30 minutes. Lightly flour the work surface again. Roll the chilled dough out to a ¼-inch thickness, then cut into 1½-inch squares.

VARIATION

DROP DUMPLINGS
In the dough for the dumplings, stir together the flour, salt, and thyme and increase the baking powder to 2 teaspoons. Omit the chilled chicken fat. Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients. Stir in the eggs, milk, and 2 tablespoons melted shortening or oil until well mixed. When the chicken and gravy are bubbling in step 2 of the recipe, drop this batter onto the surface by the tablespoon. Proceed with recipe as directed.

HAND ROLLED DUMPLINGS

Black American Cook Book, Volume 2, Willa Mitchell, 1977

To cook the slick downs, take one good dipper of water and a pinch of salt, add one good handful of flour to make your dough soft. Pat out until very thin. Pinch in strips, not so wide. Stretch them before laying them in the liquid broth. Cook until tender. This makes the broth thick as they cook. Add your cut up hen and serve hot.

BISCUIT-TOPPED CHICKEN POT PIE

SERVES 4 TO 6

Before chickens were plentiful, African American cooks stewed small game birds they hunted themselves, such as doves or pigeons, and served the creamy mixture on toast, with a simple biscuit, or with a pastry crust topping. Chicken pie was reserved for and especially beloved on Christmas Day.

In the 1950s, Clementine Hunter, a master of fine and culinary arts, included creamed chicken on toast, which she named salmi a la yucca in a small selection of extraordinary recipes, Melrose Plantation Cookbook, which she penned with Francois Mignon. Hunter layered Creole flavors in a roux-based gravy—smoky ham, aromatic vegetables of the Holy Trinity (onion, green pepper, and celery), consommé, cloves, and a blade of mace. She simmered it for an hour to develop a deep richness, then stirred in cooked chicken and served it with fried bread on the side.

Alternatively, my adaptation follows the time-honored preparation for pot pie, topping the silky chicken gravy with a crust of flaky biscuits. If Hunter’s Creole style intrigues you, swap in chopped green bell peppers for half of the carrots and add a pinch of cloves and mace. Notice that the vegetables are diced, not coarsely chopped; they are prettier that way.

1 stick (4 ounces) butter, plus softened butter for the pan

1 cup diced onion

1 cup (¼-inch) diced carrots

½ cup (¼-inch) diced celery

1 tablespoon minced garlic (about 3 cloves)

½ cup all-purpose flour

2 cups Chicken Stock (this page), warmed

2 cups whole milk, plus 1 tablespoon for the egg wash

1 teaspoon salt, or to taste

½ teaspoon black pepper

2 cups (¼-inch) diced potatoes, cooked

½ cup baby peas (optional)

2 cups diced cooked chicken

Pot Pie Biscuit Dough (recipe follows)

1 egg

1. Preheat the oven to 450°F. Generously butter a shallow 6-cup baking dish.

2. In a heavy saucepan, melt the stick of butter over medium heat until sizzling. Stir in the onion and cook for 2 minutes. Stir in the carrots, celery, and garlic and cook until the onions are translucent and starting to soften, about 2 minutes longer. Whisk in the flour. Cook and stir 3 to 5 minutes to make a blonde roux. Gradually whisk in the chicken stock, a few tablespoons at a time, stirring after each addition, until the mixture is smooth. Whisk in 2 cups of the milk and the salt and pepper. Cook until the mixture comes to a boil, then reduce heat to a simmer, stirring, until the mixture is thickened, 2 to 3 minutes.

3. Place the potatoes, peas (if using), and chicken in the baking dish. Pour in the sauce.

4. On a floured board, roll out the biscuit dough to a ¼-inch thickness. Cut with decorative or 2-inch round biscuit cutters. Place the biscuits on top of the filling, leaving ¼ inch between biscuits. (You can also roll the dough into one sheet and fit it over the baking dish; just be sure to cut 2 or 3 slits in the crust to let the steam escape.) In a small bowl, stir together the egg and 1 tablespoon milk. Lightly brush this egg wash all over the crust. Bake until the filling is bubbling and the crust is golden brown, 15 to 20 minutes. Serve immediately.

POT PIE BISCUIT DOUGH

MAKES ENOUGH FOR A DOUBLE-CRUST PIE

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

¼ cup shortening, cut into ½-inch pieces and chilled

⅔ cup cold whole milk

In a large bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, and salt. Sprinkle the shortening over the flour mixture. Using your fingertips, a pastry blender, or two knives, cut in the shortening until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Use a fork to stir in the milk. Turn the dough out onto a floured board. Knead 5 to 10 seconds, just until dough is smooth.

Fried Chicken

In the rural Virginia community of Gordonsville, Bella Winston was one of the “waiter carriers”—vendors who sold homemade dishes near the railroad platform to weary travelers during the post–Civil War years. Their menus were described by Psyche Williams-Forson in Building Houses Out of Chicken Legs: fried chicken, biscuits and breads, hard-boiled eggs, fruit pies, and “their famous hot coffee, which was sold in old-fashioned pots.” These were enterprising, pioneering women, who had families, owned land, and used chicken to break down economic barriers and build lives for themselves, and who would influence future generations.

We have seen many iconic figures thrive in the waiter carriers’ tradition. Possibly the most famous is André Prince Jeffries of Nashville, whose success relies upon a family recipe for chicken, made hot as hell with a hefty dose of ground red pepper. And, if you grew up in Los Angeles in the 1970s, Zelma Stennis’s Golden Bird was the only place to get fried chicken outside of your own kitchen, unless you wanted your bird served alongside Roscoe’s hot and crisp waffles. While testing recipes based on various Creole techniques, I was delighted to recognize the taste of my beloved Golden Bird in those employing a rich egg/cream batter and cracker or bread crumbs for crunch.

Then, of course, there is “regular” fried chicken, the kind I ate at home—basic floured chicken, shallow-fried in fat. Across the country, cooks added a little of their own soul to the old-school method of cooking with lard. Early on, my mom fried her chicken in hot shortening, then switched to vegetable oil for better health, whereas Edna Lewis dropped a quarter-pound of country ham—and butter—into the fat for chicken fried in her Virginia country style. Helen Dickerson, also from Virginia and who cooked at the historic Chalfonte Hotel in Cape May, New Jersey, divulged her special touch in I Just Quit Stirrin’ When the Tastin’s Good: The Chalfonte Hotel Recipe Collection. She added a thick slice of onion to the cooking oil for “soul food with its Sunday clothes on.” Soul era cooks Pearl Bowser and Joan Eckstein fried their “gospel bird” in a mix of salt pork and butter. One of their contemporaries was a cookbook author named Jimmy Lee, who prided himself on his recipe, calling it “Jimmy’s Best Fried Chicken.” And it came with this declaration: “Ever hear that old white-haired chicken-cooking man who brags so much about that ‘secret blend of 11 herbs and spices’ he uses to fry chicken? I don’t care much for making a mystery out of cooking.”

So here, I present the recipes for my finest fried chickens.

HOMESTYLE FRIED CHICKEN

SERVES 6

There was a time when cooks considered a three-step pan-fry in shallow oil the best method for achieving mouthwatering chicken. They started the chicken with a short fry in a cast-iron skillet in hot oil to give the chicken a light browning. Next, the pieces were crowded into the pan, covered (sometimes with a glass lid), and steamed over medium-high heat to create moistness. At the end of cooking time, the cook turned the heat back to high to crisp the skin. It was a good process that author Kathy Starr said was the key to success in the art of “Southern” fried chicken in The Soul of Southern Cooking. Today we count on a deep-fry thermometer to help maintain the temperature for perfectly crisp, juicy chicken.

1 (3- to 4-pound) frying chicken, cut up into 8 or 10 pieces

2 teaspoons to 1 tablespoon salt, or to taste

½ teaspoon black pepper, or to taste

½ teaspoon cayenne pepper

1½ teaspoons paprika

1½ teaspoons garlic powder

¼ teaspoon celery salt (optional)

1 cup all-purpose flour, or as needed

Peanut or vegetable oil, for shallow-frying

1. Place the chicken on a board and pat dry with paper towels, if needed. Place the chicken in a large bowl and sprinkle with the salt, black pepper, cayenne, paprika, garlic powder, and celery salt. Use your hands to rub the seasonings well into the chicken, turning to coat evenly on all sides. Place the flour in a small paper bag. Add the chicken to the bag, a few pieces at a time, shaking to coat well. Use tongs to transfer the chicken pieces from the flour to a wire rack to rest while you flour the remaining pieces.

2. Pour about ¾ inch of oil into a heavy, deep cast-iron skillet and heat to 375°F over medium-high heat. (Use a thermometer, or if a small cube of bread sizzles immediately but does not burn when dropped into the pan, the oil is ready.) Adjust the heat to maintain this temperature. Working in batches of a few pieces at a time (do not crowd the skillet), add the chicken and cook until golden brown, about 12 minutes, turning once. Drain the chicken on paper towels and serve hot.

PRESSURE COOKER FRIED CHICKEN WITH 11 HERBS AND SPICES

Soul Food Cook Book, Jimmy Lee, 1970

1 (3- to 4-pound) frying chicken, cut up

Water

1 egg, beaten

A good pinch each: dried parsley, sage, rosemary, thyme, oregano, paprika, chili powder, celery salt, onion salt, garlic salt and black pepper

2 cups crushed cracker or dry bread crumbs

½ pound butter or bacon drippings

Place chicken in a pressure cooker with sufficient water to cook 20 minutes. Remove chicken pieces, drain, and allow to cool slightly. In a shallow bowl, mix egg and 1 tablespoon water. In a separate shallow bowl, blend together cracker crumbs, herbs and spices. Dip chicken pieces in egg, then roll in seasoned crumbs. In a large skillet, heat butter until sizzling. Fry chicken in hot butter until browned and crisp, turning once. Serve hot.

BUTTERMILK FRIED CHICKEN

SERVES 6

I once wrote that an informal review of the most influential Southern cookbooks in my collection revealed as many ways to fix fried chicken as there are cooks making the iconic dish, with innovations appearing in all time periods.

A lemonade bath before frying moistens the chicken legs served by chef Chris Scott, a finalist on Bravo’s Top Chef. Mojo criollo infuses Cuban chicken with garlic, orange, and lemon juice. Evaporated milk gives Creole chicken a New Orleans flair. I learned from a far-reaching 1987 culinary opus, The Black Gourmet Cookbook: A Unique Collection of Easy-to-Prepare, Appetizing, Black American, Creole, Caribbean, and African Cuisine, that birds soaked overnight in a marinade of soy sauce, lime juice, and rum will transport you to the islands. There are salt water brines, pickle brines, vodka brines—chef Todd Richards’s buttermilk brine leans into the hot chicken style, adding a dose of hot pepper sauce and red pepper flakes to the mix in Soul: A Chef’s Culinary Evolution in 150 Recipes.

While all of these methods can produce wonderful chicken, through it all, marinating in buttermilk remains a classic go-to technique for succulent chicken; the acidic cultured milk tenderizes the meat. For the blazing taste of Prince’s Hot Chicken, add a couple of tablespoons of hot pepper sauce to the buttermilk marinade and increase the cayenne pepper exponentially, depending upon your heat tolerance.

1 tablespoon salt, or to taste

¼ teaspoon celery salt

1 teaspoon black pepper, or to taste

½ teaspoon cayenne pepper

1 teaspoon paprika

½ teaspoon garlic powder

½ teaspoon onion powder

1 (3- to 4- pound) frying chicken, cut up

2 cups buttermilk

1 cup self-rising flour

Peanut or vegetable oil, for shallow-frying

1. In a small bowl, combine the salt, celery salt, black pepper, cayenne, paprika, garlic powder, and onion powder. Pat the chicken dry so the spices will stick, then place the chicken in a long, shallow glass baking dish. Rub half of the seasoning mixture onto the chicken pieces, turning to coat all sides. Carefully pour the buttermilk over the chicken and refrigerate, covered, at least 4 hours and overnight if possible, turning once or twice.

2. In a plastic or lunch-size brown paper bag, combine the flour and the remaining seasoning mixture. Remove the chicken from the buttermilk, shake off each piece to remove any excess, and place 1 piece at a time in the bag. Close the bag and shake well to coat evenly on all sides. Let the coated chicken rest on a wire rack while you repeat until all the chicken has been coated with the seasoned flour. (Discard the buttermilk.)

3. Pour about ¾ inch oil into a heavy, deep cast-iron skillet and heat to 375°F over medium-high heat. (Use a thermometer, or if a small cube of bread sizzles immediately but does not burn when dropped into the pan, the oil is ready.) Adjust the heat to maintain this temperature as needed. Working in batches of a few pieces at a time (do not crowd the skillet), add the chicken and cook until golden brown, about 12 minutes, turning once. Drain the chicken on paper towels and serve hot.

CREOLE FRIED CHICKEN

SERVES 4 TO 6

What is it that gives Creole fried chicken that NOLA swagger? Some would argue that it’s the sliced pickle and a garnish of minced garlic and parsley served with the fried chicken in chef Austin Leslie’s French Quarter restaurant, Chez Helene. But Leslie omitted that popular embellishment in the printed recipe published in the 1978 edition of Creole Feast: Fifteen Master Chefs of New Orleans Reveal Their Secrets and in his own recipe catalogue, Chez Helene: House of Good Food Cookbook.

So I queried other Creole authors to see what they had to say. Leah Chase soaked chicken parts in evaporated milk and added a sprinkle of dried thyme to the marinade. Queen Ida Guillory stirred a bit of baking powder into the flour before dusting the chicken to give it an extra-crispy, light crust. Between Leslie’s cream-based batter and Lena Richard’s 1939 recipe for chicken parts rolled in a mixture of flour batter and cracker meal, Richard’s is the one I like best.

It doesn’t get much better than this.

1 tablespoon salt, or to taste

1 teaspoon black pepper, or to taste

1½ teaspoons paprika

1½ teaspoons garlic powder

1 (3- to 4-pound) frying chicken, cut into pieces

2 large eggs, beaten

½ cup evaporated milk or half-and-half

1 cup all-purpose flour

1 cup finely crushed cracker meal or fine dried bread crumbs

Peanut or vegetable oil, for shallow-frying

1. In a small bowl, combine the salt, pepper, paprika, and garlic powder. Place the chicken on a board and pat dry with paper towels. Place the chicken in a large bowl. Sprinkle with half the seasoning mixture. Use your hands to rub the chicken with the seasonings, turning to coat evenly on all sides.

2. In a small bowl, combine the eggs, evaporated milk, and 1 cup water. Pour the mixture over the chicken and mix well to thoroughly coat. Refrigerate for 1 to 2 hours to allow the flavors to soak into the chicken.

3. In a small paper bag, combine the flour, cracker crumbs, and the remaining seasoning mixture. Add the chicken to the bag, a few pieces at a time. Close the bag and shake to coat the pieces well. Remove the chicken to a wire rack to rest for 20 minutes.

4. Pour about ¾ inch oil into a heavy deep cast-iron skillet and heat to 375°F over medium-high heat. (Use a thermometer, or if a small cube of bread sizzles immediately but does not burn when dropped into the pan, the oil is ready.) Adjust the heat to maintain this temperature as needed. Working in batches of a few pieces at a time (do not crowd the skillet), add the chicken and cook until golden brown, about 12 minutes, turning once. Drain the chicken on paper towels and serve hot.

Roast Turkey

A big turkey has been a special-occasion focal point since bondsmen hunted wild turkeys and other game in the woods and fried them, a practice remembered in What the Slaves Ate: Recollections of African American Foods and Foodways from the Slave Narratives. Cookbook author, novelist, and peach farmer Dori Sanders’s memories of wild turkeys involved marinating the birds in buttermilk and using a sherry stuffing to draw out some of the gamey taste. Domesticated turkey was the purview of professionals. Charleston’s Nat Fuller, the “renowned prince of caterers,” for instance, achieved fame during the early 1860s for stellar meat cookery that included boned turkey, excellence cited again and again in David Shields’s Southern Provisions: The Creation and Revival of a Cuisine.

Purists may find it heretical to celebrate winter holidays without classic roast turkey and giblet gravy as the center of attention, but I am not one of them. I learned from Freda DeKnight, Ebony magazine’s midcentury food editor, that diners can be comforted with traditional dishes and also excited by innovative recipes that surprise tastebuds. She favored roasting turkey in one’s own sweet way—rubbed in a peanut butter paste made with butter and cream; baked in port in a heavy brown paper bag; cut into quarters and basted with milk so that it creates its own rich gravy; or in a Spanish or Creole sauce, redolent with flavorful vegetables and ambrosial spices.

My advice to the purists: Just go with it.

ROAST TURKEY WITH CHILE-PECAN SAUCE

SERVES 10 TO 12

One of the rarest black cookbooks known to librarians, historians, and collectors is also one of the last remaining first editions I wanted to add to my collection when The Jemima Code was published. I finally obtained an autographed copy of the Lone Star Cook Book and Meat Special (From the Slaughter Pen to the Dining Room Table) at auction, and what a treasure it turned out to be! Published in 1929 by Artaway Fillmore, it offered a glimpse into the mindset and recipe files of a chef making a name for himself in the business of hotel hospitality.

Fillmore was chef at the Hilton in Dallas when the Lone Star Cook Book was published, but the recipes and menus were from the Lubbock Hotel, which was advertised as modern and luxurious with one of the finest dining rooms in the region. As testimony to the important legacy he left behind and the talent he took with him, the Lubbock Women’s Club celebrated Fillmore’s accomplishments in 2018.

What draws me to Fillmore’s fine-dining style? Flavors that are culturally and regionally familiar: Creole and Southwestern dishes dominated by tomatoes, green bell peppers, chile peppers, chili powder, and hefty amounts of paprika. His Tamala Loaf was a layered dish of leftover meat mixed with chili powder, browned “cominos [cumin] seed,” and a cornmeal paste that reminds me of the tamale pie my mother made when I was growing up in Southern California. And his Spanish Sauce, a mix of fragrant vegetables, tomatoes, and paprika, sparked the chile-pecan sauce that I serve with this Southwestern-seasoned roast turkey. Start the stock for the sauce first, as soon as you retrieve the giblets and neck.

1 (10- to 12-pound) turkey

1 small apple, cored and quartered

1 small onion, quartered

4 large garlic cloves, smashed

2 celery stalks with leaves

2 carrots, halved lengthwise

¼ cup vegetable oil or melted butter

Chile Rub (recipe follows)

Chile-Pecan Sauce (recipe follows)

Cornbread Dressing (this page), for serving

1. Preheat the oven to 325°F.

2. Remove the giblets and neck from the turkey and begin making the stock for the chile-pecan sauce. Tuck the wings under the bird, then use string to tie the wings and legs close to the body. Place the turkey, breast side up, in a deep, heavy roasting pan. Insert a meat thermometer into the lower part of the thigh, without touching the bone.

3. Fill the turkey neck cavity and body cavity with the apple, onion, garlic, celery, and carrots. Use skewers to close the body cavity. Rub the turkey all over with the oil, then use your hands to rub the turkey with the chile rub. Tent the turkey with foil.

4. Roast the turkey, basting with pan juices every 30 minutes, until the temperature on the thermometer reaches 180°F, 3 to 3½ hours. Remove the foil during the last 30 minutes and do not baste, so the turkey will brown.

5. Reserving the pan drippings for the chile-pecan sauce, transfer the turkey to a platter and remove the skewers and strings. Let stand for 20 minutes. Meanwhile, finish making the chile-pecan sauce. Serve the turkey with the sauce and cornbread dressing.

CHILE-PECAN SAUCE

MAKES ABOUT 2 CUPS

Giblets and neck (reserved from a whole turkey)

1 small onion, quartered, plus 2 tablespoons minced onion

1 celery stalk with leaves, quartered

1 garlic clove, crushed, plus 2 teaspoons minced garlic

½ teaspoon salt, plus more to taste

¼ teaspoon black pepper, plus more to taste

2 tablespoons pan drippings from a roast turkey

1 small Scotch bonnet pepper, minced, or to taste

1 tablespoon chili powder

1 teaspoon ground cumin

½ cup chopped toasted pecans

1. In a large saucepan, combine 3 cups water, the turkey giblets and neck, onion quarters, celery, crushed garlic clove, ½ teaspoon salt, and ¼ teaspoon black pepper. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to low, cover, and simmer while the turkey roasts, adding water as necessary to keep the water level. Remove the stock from the heat when the turkey is done. Strain the stock through a colander and reserve. Discard the solids.

2. Pour off and discard all but 2 tablespoons of the pan drippings from the turkey roasting pan. Place the pan over medium-high heat. Add the minced onion, minced garlic, and chile pepper and sauté until softened, about 1 minute. Sprinkle in the chili powder and cumin and sauté for 2 minutes. Gradually whisk the reserved stock into the pan in a slow, steady stream, scraping up browned bits at the bottom of the pan. Cook until the sauce is reduced by one-third, about 20 minutes. Stir in the pecans and season to taste with salt and black pepper.

CHILE RUB

MAKES ABOUT ½ CUP

Try this rub on flank steak or pork ribs to give them a Southwestern kick.

2 tablespoons paprika

1 tablespoon chili powder

1 tablespoon ground cumin

1 tablespoon brown sugar

1 tablespoon salt

1 tablespoon black pepper

1½ teaspoons chipotle chile powder

1½ teaspoons dried oregano

1½ teaspoons garlic powder

1½ teaspoons onion powder

In a small bowl, combine the paprika, chili powder, cumin, brown sugar, salt, black pepper, chipotle chile powder, oregano, garlic powder, and onion powder.

GIBLET GRAVY

MAKES ABOUT 5 CUPS

Of course, some families insist their Thanksgiving traditions aren’t to be messed with, and so here I also present a classic giblet gravy to go with a roast turkey.

Giblets and neck (reserved from a whole turkey)

1 large onion, quartered

2 celery stalks with leaves

1 garlic clove, crushed

½ teaspoon celery seeds

¼ teaspoon poultry seasoning

1 bay leaf

¼ teaspoon whole black peppercorns

1 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste

2 tablespoons pan drippings from a roast turkey

6 tablespoons butter

½ cup all-purpose flour

Black pepper

1. In a large saucepan, combine 2 quarts water, the turkey giblets and neck, onion, celery, garlic, celery seeds, poultry seasoning, bay leaf, peppercorns, and 1 teaspoon salt. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat, partially cover, and simmer while the turkey roasts, at least 3 hours, adding water as necessary to keep the meat and vegetables covered.

2. Remove the stock from the heat when the turkey is done. Reserving the giblets, strain the stock and return to the saucepan to keep warm. When cool enough to handle, coarsely chop the giblets and set aside. Return the stock to medium heat and simmer, uncovered, until reduced to 5 cups.

3. Pour off and discard all but 2 tablespoons pan drippings from the turkey roasting pan. Place the pan over medium-high heat, add the butter, and heat until sizzling. Sprinkle with the flour and stir to mix. Cook the flour and fat until browned as desired, about 5 minutes for medium-colored gravy. Gradually stir the hot stock into the pan, scraping up browned bits at the bottom of the pan. Continue to cook, stirring until the gravy thickens. Add the giblets to gravy and season to taste with salt and pepper.

TURKEY TRUFFLES

Good Things to Eat, as Suggested by Rufus, Rufus Estes, 1911
[In addition to being a creative way to flavor turkey, this recipe, over a century old, proves that black chefs were adept with the most prized luxury ingredients–in this case, what today would be thousands of dollars’ worth of truffles.]

Take a fat turkey, clean and singe it. Take three or four pounds of truffles, chopping up a handful with some fat bacon and put into a saucepan, together with the whole truffles, salt, pepper, spices and a bay-leaf. Let these ingredients cook over a slow fire for three-quarters of an hour, take off, stir and let cool. When quite cold place in body of turkey, sew up the opening and let the turkey imbibe the flavor of the truffles by remaining in a day or two, if the season permits. Cover the bird with slices of bacon and roast.

Fish and Seafood

A barefoot, curly-haired black man, dressed in overalls, is seated on an overturned bucket. He’s next to a drop pole, close to the shore, and wiping sweat from his brow. Another man has rolled up the legs of his overalls; he is standing under a tall tree where a fat catfish hangs from a nail. A third man can be seen gripping the reins on a large wagon. His wife and four children, their poles, and several buckets fill up the wagon bed.

These are a few of the enigmatic sketches illustrating the fish and seafood recipes in Ethel Dixon’s cookbook, Big Mama’s Old Black Pot. Published in 1987, the folklore and stories recall her youth in a small rural community in Louisiana; the recipes for country-style cooking are simple and classic Southern, and this book remains a darling of cooks and collectors.

Her memory of “stumpin” for catfish took me to a time and place beyond Southern California, where I grew up with families ordering fish at “you buy, we fry” fish markets.

Frying fish has been at the center of black social events for generations, an essential activity at Emancipation Day and July Fourth celebrations, revivals, and camp meetings. Fried porgies tucked between two slices of bread and dressed with mustard were central to Saturday-night social and fund-raising affairs in the Sea Islands, and “hot fish,” so named because it was quickly eaten after being freshly fried in hot oil, is still a staple on Southern and soul menus.

Outside of the South, early black cookbooks seldom included recipes for fried fish. And Arturo Schomburg’s proposal for a black cookbook listed choice dishes in the African American seafood pantheon such as curry of catfish, Lowcountry crab boil, and shrimp Creole, plus exquisite-sounding fish and seafood baked in pie crust, creamed in béchamel sauce, cloaked in puff pastry, molded into timbales, simmered “West Indies style,” and baked, stuffed, and sauced.

With that in mind, and with all due respect to Big Mama’s reasoning that “Nothing is better than ‘stumpin’ for catfish—except eatin’ um on the creek bank,” this little group connects the past and the present, the humble with the elegant, the fried and the un-fried.

OYSTER LOAF (PO’ BOYS)

SERVES 2 OR 3

Creoles stuff po’ boys with fried oysters, but for that hero-type sandwich, the long loaf of crusty French bread could be filled with any number of inexpensive ingredients that poor boys could afford, from potatoes to fish fillets, topped by a layer of sliced tomatoes, crisp shreds of lettuce, and a mayonnaise dressing.

The oyster loaf may be the antecedent of this combination. Fried oysters piled in a box made from a loaf of bread is referred to as the mediatrice—“the Peace Maker”—in early twentieth-century cookbooks. Back then, when a man came home late from a night of carousing in the French Quarter and told his anxiously waiting wife he had been detained on business downtown, he brought her a mediatrice to curb her anger and make peace. The success of the plan depended upon an exquisitely prepared sandwich filled with delicate oysters.

This twist on the overflowing sandwich, which comes by way of chef Marvin Woods’s recipe for oysters stuffed in a garlic-bread loaf, is a stunner on the buffet. To make individual servings easier, you may also adapt the recipe by using small rolls instead of one long loaf. That way, guests can pile on their own mix of crisp oysters, sweet tomatoes, and pungent rémoulade sauce.

1 (14-inch) loaf of unsliced white bread, also known as a Pullman loaf or pan bread

4 tablespoons butter, melted

1 garlic clove, minced

Vegetable oil, for deep-frying

1½ cups cornmeal

2 teaspoons Old Bay seasoning

½ teaspoon cayenne pepper

¼ teaspoon salt, plus more as needed

1 large egg, beaten

¼ cup whole milk

3 dozen shucked oysters (about 2 cups)

Shredded lettuce, tomato slices, and pickles, for serving

Rémoulade Sauce (this page), for serving

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F.

2. Use a sharp knife to trim the crust from the sides and ends of the bread loaf. Cut off the top one-third of the loaf and hollow out the inside of the loaf to create a box-like shell with 1-inch-thick sides. In a small bowl, combine the melted butter and garlic. Brush the bread loaf inside and out with the garlic-butter. Bake until crisp and lightly browned, about 10 minutes. Set aside.

3. Pour 3 to 4 inches of oil into a large Dutch oven or other wide, deep pot and heat to 375°F over medium-high heat. (Use a thermometer or flick in a small cube of bread; if it sizzles immediately but doesn’t burn, the oil is ready.) Adjust the heat to maintain this temperature as needed.

4. In a medium bowl, combine the cornmeal, Old Bay, cayenne, and salt. In a small bowl, whisk together the egg, milk, and a pinch of salt. Drain the oysters and pat dry with paper towels. (Discard the oyster liquor or save it for another use.) Dip the oysters into the egg mixture, then into the cornmeal mixture, turning to coat all sides. Shake off any excess cornmeal. Working in small batches (do not crowd the pan), fry the oysters until golden-brown, about 3 minutes. Use a slotted spoon to remove the oysters and drain on paper towels. Pile them into the bread loaf with lettuce, tomatoes, and pickles. Spoon rémoulade sauce over the oysters and serve.

CATFISH ÉTOUFÉE

SERVES 4

Leonard Roberts’s 1969 cookbook, The Negro Chef Cookbook, expressed his pride in the legacy of fusion cooking that occurs when black chefs reimagined humble ingredients, mixed sauces and spices from various cultures, and applied culinary technique in dishes such as catfish steaks with “green-lime maître d’hôtel butter,” “Oriental” king mackerel steaks, tuna tetrazzini, and salmon curry.

Ethel Dixon’s Catfish Étoufée demonstrates that country cooks also performed in the kitchen with that same kind of nimble ingenuity, minus the pageantry. Classic Louisiana country cooking, étoufée is a brick-red roux-based gravy ordinarily swimming with swamp crawdads (crawfish) or shrimp from the bayou and served over rice, but Dixon substitutes mild-tasting catfish.

This is a rendition of the catfish and gravy remembered by a former bondservant in Alabama. It combines Dixon’s nostalgia for the ancestors’ ways with the bottom-feeding fish that were so abundant in Southern streams, rivers, and lakes with Roberts’s chefy sauce-making skills.

1 pound catfish fillets, or any other firm-fleshed white fish, cut into 4-inch pieces

1 teaspoon cayenne pepper

½ teaspoon salt, or to taste

½ teaspoon black pepper

¼ teaspoon dried thyme

½ cup vegetable oil

6 tablespoons all-purpose flour

¼ cup minced onion

2 tablespoons minced green bell pepper

2 tablespoons minced celery

1 teaspoon minced garlic

1 small bay leaf

1½ cups Fish Stock (this page), warmed

1 tablespoon tomato paste

8 tablespoons (1 stick) butter

2 tablespoons minced green onions

1 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley

Freshly cooked rice

1. Place the catfish pieces on a plate and dry with a paper towel to help the seasonings adhere to the fish. In a small bowl, combine the cayenne, salt, black pepper, and thyme. Season the fillets with half of the seasoning mixture.

2. In a large skillet, heat the oil over high heat until sizzling and nearly smoking. Reduce the heat to medium-high. Gradually whisk in the flour until smooth, being careful not to splatter any of the hot roux on your skin. Cook, stirring constantly, until the roux is medium-brown, about 5 minutes. Remove from the heat and stir in the onion, bell pepper, celery, garlic, bay leaf, and the remaining seasoning mixture. Return to the heat and cook, stirring constantly, until the vegetables are softened, about 2 minutes. Gradually stir in ½ cup of the warm fish stock and the tomato paste and stir until the sauce begins to thicken, about 1 minute, then remove from the heat.

3. In a separate skillet, heat 4 tablespoons of the butter until sizzling. Add the catfish and green onions and cook until the catfish is opaque (it does not need to brown), 2 to 3 minutes per side.

4. Transfer the fish, the remaining 4 table-spoons butter, and the remaining 1 cup stock to the skillet with the vegetables and cook for 2 to 3 minutes, shaking or stirring the pan constantly to melt the butter and emulsify it into a rich sauce. Remove and discard the bay leaf. Sprinkle the étoufée with the parsley and serve over rice.

SHRIMP CREOLE

SERVES 4 OR 5

Not long ago, I wrote that Lena Richard may be the twentieth century’s least celebrated celebrity chef, but today she is compared with Martha Stewart for expanding her brand through an empire built on restaurant ownership, cookbook publishing, and food manufacturing. She was a great cook and creator of joy who appeared on a television cooking show twenty years before Julia Child was a household name. To honor Richard, I selected the dish she called Shrimp Fricassee à la Creole, from the New Orleans Cookbook. I learned to refine it from chef Homer Luke of Homer and Edy’s Bistro in Los Angeles.

Richard allowed the shrimp to linger in the sauce for a long braise so the flavors could mingle, while chef Luke poached shrimp in their shells so they retained their flavor and kept their snappy texture, then peeled them just before adding them to a sauce of fresh tomatoes seasoned with the Holy Trinity (celery, bell pepper, and onions). Here I do as Homer does. (The flavor of the broth intensifies as the shrimp cooks, so please reserve it to boil additional shrimp, or strain the stock and freeze it for another use.)

1 lemon, halved

1 small onion, quartered, plus 1½ cups chopped

1 celery stalk with leaves, halved, plus ½ cup chopped

Stems from 2 sprigs fresh parsley, plus 2 teaspoons minced parsley

1 large and 1 small bay leaf

1½ teaspoons Worcestershire sauce

1½ tablespoons plus ½ teaspoon salt

10 whole black peppercorns

5 whole cloves

½ teaspoon dried thyme

½ teaspoon cayenne pepper

1 pound shell-on shrimp

2 tablespoons bacon drippings, vegetable or olive oil, or melted butter

¾ cup chopped green bell pepper

2 teaspoons minced garlic

1 cup chopped tomatoes

Freshly cooked rice

1. In a large Dutch oven or saucepan, bring 1 quart water to a boil. Add the lemon halves, onion quarters, celery pieces, parsley stems, large bay leaf, Worcestershire sauce, 1½ tablespoons salt, the peppercorns, cloves, and ¼ teaspoon each of the thyme and cayenne. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer for 10 to 15 minutes to allow the flavors to mingle.

2. Add the shrimp to the pot and return to a boil, then reduce the heat to medium and cook until the shrimp just turn pink, about 5 minutes. If necessary, remove faster-cooking shrimp from the pan as they are done. Drain and reserve 1 cup of the shrimp stock for the sauce. (Refrigerate or freeze the remaining stock for later use.) Once cool enough to handle, peel and devein the shrimp.

3. In a large skillet, heat the bacon fat over medium until sizzling. Add the bell pepper, chopped celery, and chopped onion and sauté until they start to soften, about 5 minutes. Stir in the garlic and cook for 30 seconds. Stir in the tomatoes, reserved shrimp stock, small bay leaf, and the remaining ½ teaspoon salt and ¼ teaspoon each thyme and cayenne. Cook until the vegetables are tender and the tomatoes are saucy, about 20 minutes. Remove and discard the bay leaves.

4. Stir in the shrimp and cook just a few minutes to heat them through. Sprinkle with minced parsley and serve spooned over rice.

LOWCOUNTRY SHRIMP AND GRITS

SERVES 4

Shrimp and grits are everywhere on restaurant menus, but harder to find in African American cookbooks unless you know what you’re looking for: The historian Arturo Schomburg called it “breakfast shrimp with hominy.” In Gullah-Geechee parlance, it’s gone by names like shrimp gravy or smuttered shrimp. Casual Louisiana Creoles might call it breakfast shrimp with tomatoes.

Whatever you call it, this is a luscious version of the dish, inspired by chef Chris Williams of the Houston restaurant Lucille’s, which he named after cookbook author Lucille Bishop Smith, his great-grandmother. The tips for preparing perfect grits here are from Dora Charles’s A Real Southern Cook in Her Savannah Kitchen. It combines cheese grits, which are simmered low and slow so they are creamy, with plump, slightly briny Gulf Coast shrimp paired with a rich gravy infused with bacon and green onion. It is outstanding served at breakfast; I also like to serve it as an elegant first course for dinner with special friends. Try it my way, then the next time, if you’d like, dice a few mushrooms or a small tomato and toss them into the pan with the onions and garlic.

1¼ cups Chicken Stock (this page)

1½ teaspoons salt, plus more to taste

1 cup old-fashioned or quick (not instant) grits

2 tablespoons butter

6 tablespoons half-and-half

½ cup shredded Cheddar cheese

¼ teaspoon white pepper

3 slices bacon, finely diced

¼ cup all-purpose flour

1 pound shrimp, peeled and deveined

½ cup chopped green onions

¼ teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes

1 garlic clove, minced

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

1 tablespoon minced fresh parsley

1. In a large saucepan, bring 3½ cups water, 1 cup of the chicken stock, and ½ teaspoon of the salt to a boil over high heat. Gradually whisk in the grits 1 tablespoon at a time, stirring until blended. Return to a boil, then reduce the heat to low, cover, and simmer, whisking occasionally to prevent lumps, until tender, about 30 minutes. Add water, if necessary, to keep it thick but not stiff. Remove the grits from the heat. Stir in the butter, half-and-half, Cheddar, and white pepper. Keep warm.

2. In a large skillet, cook the bacon over medium heat until crisp, about 7 minutes. Spoon out the bacon and drain on paper towels. Discard all but 2 tablespoons of the bacon drippings.

3. In a small bowl, combine the flour and the reamaining 1 teaspoon salt. Toss the shrimp in the flour mixture to coat lightly on all sides.

4. Heat the bacon fat in the pan over medium-high until sizzling. Add the shrimp and sauté for 2 minutes. Stir in the green onions, red pepper flakes, and garlic. Cook, turning once, until the shrimp turn fully pink, about 2 minutes more. Stir in the remaining ¼ cup stock and cook, stirring, until the shrimp gravy is smooth and thick, 2 to 3 minutes. Stir in the lemon juice and minced parsley. Taste and add salt if necessary.

5. Divide the grits evenly among serving bowls. Pour the shrimp and gravy over the grits. Sprinkle with the bacon.

LOUISIANA BARBECUED SHRIMP

SERVES 2 TO 4

You won’t find any barbecue sauce in the model/chef/restaurateur B. Smith’s dish of shrimp in spiced butter sauce: “Barbecue shrimp” is just the name Louisiana Creole cooks assigned to shrimp braised in wine, beer, or a garlic-butter sauce.

I like to make this dish spicy, in a cast-iron skillet, and served in shallow bowls with hunks of crisp French bread to soak up the sauce. It’s classic NOLA. Shaking the pan back and forth during cooking time is a trick that helps give the sauce more body than stirring.

½ teaspoon cayenne pepper

¼ teaspoon black pepper

½ teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes

½ teaspoon dried thyme

½ teaspoon dried oregano

¼ teaspoon paprika

2 bay leaves, crushed

4 tablespoons (½ stick) butter

2 garlic cloves, minced

¼ cup white wine

½ cup Fish Stock (this page)

2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce

1 pound shell-on shrimp

2 tablespoons minced fresh parsley

Hot crusty French bread, for serving

1. In a small bowl, combine the cayenne, black pepper, salt, red pepper flakes, thyme, oregano, paprika, and bay leaves.

2. In a large cast-iron skillet, heat the butter over medium-high until melted and sizzling. Add the garlic, seasoning mixture, wine, fish stock, lemon juice, and Worcestershire sauce. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer until the sauce thickens enough to lightly coat a spoon, about 5 to 7 minutes; shake the pan as it cooks to help bring the sauce together.

3. Add the shrimp, reduce the heat to low, and cook, turning once, until the shrimp turn pink and firm, 3 to 5 minutes.

4. Sprinkle the shrimp with the parsley and serve immediately with hot French bread.