When I was a little girl, we would occasionally go to the Piccadilly Cafeteria after church on Sundays. It was a family treat, intended to give Mama a break from cooking. One of the things I remember most about the experience was the salad section. Hunks of iceberg lettuce and a wedge of pale tomato shoulder to shoulder to shoulder with rows of plastic dishes filled with limp, shredded carrot spotted with raisins, flanked by turquoise bowls of dull, dry canned beets. The plastic vessels were the only things vibrant and bright about those salads. They were unseasoned and seasonless. And, these tasteless offerings were positioned directly adjacent to the dessert section, with a rainbow of bouncy cubes of Jell-O, creamy chocolate pudding, and cloudlike pillows of lemon meringue pie. I swooshed right past the salads to the dessert.
What would you do? It wasn’t because I was a green-opposing brat. I have loved vegetables all my life. Believe me, I have never had problems with a dislike of vegetables, salads and slaws included. One of my favorite dishes of all time is a green bean salad. When I was little, I would help Dede in the garden, eating tomatoes right off the vine, the warm juices running down my suntanned arms. To this day, I think one the most electrifying experiences is to eat a vegetable pulled straight off the vine; you can feel the life in it.
Not much has changed as I have grown older, and tomatoes remain one of my greatest culinary loves. A good salad is a wonderful thing. I adore the usefulness of arugula—part herb, part lettuce. I almost always have a box or bag in the fridge. Ironically, sometimes it can be hard to find regular pedestrian head lettuce in the grocery store. The aforementioned arugula is de rigueur for any upscale market. Some bags of prepared salad add mâche to the mix. There are all shapes and sizes of endive and escarole, the inevitable bag of “Italian Blend,” and you can top off your salad with a “cherry” in the form of deliciously bitter and red radicchio. The choices are extensive and amazing. No reason anymore to push the tray quickly past the salads to the desserts.
Combine a base of greens with seasonal vegetables or farm-fresh produce for a superior salad. Honest, fresh ingredients make the best salads and slaws. Assembled at the height of the season and treated with respect, they can create a low-maintenance lunch, satisfying supper, simple side dish, or perhaps a Brilliant bed for an even better bite. Use really good ingredients in your salad and do as little to them as possible so as not to mess them up. It’s a very French approach to cooking. What better way to feature the freshness of vegetables than just a hint of cooking or serving them raw, letting the clean flavors of the food shine through? Sometimes less is, indeed, more.
Assembling a great salad is an art. There are certain techniques that must be followed: proper washing, balanced vinaigrette, and the right poise of textures and flavors. The goal is a well-balanced salad that is a marriage of sour, salty, bitter, sweet, and savory, as well as a perfect blend of crisp and creamy, tender and crunchy. Add a contrast in temperature, and you have a very special treat.
In this chapter I share some of my favorite combinations. Let the seasons and what’s available at the market be your guide. Basic to Brilliant, I hope you enjoy every fresh, electrifying bite.
SERVES 4 TO 6
As a teacher I always caution my students to “season as they go.” If all the salt is added at the beginning of cooking, it will not taste right, and if it is all added at the end, it will be equally incorrect. In this slaw, the vegetables are seasoned, the dressing is seasoned, and then they are tossed together and the slaw is seasoned again. Seasoning food and assessing how it tastes is a constantly developing process. The same is true in life. Every now and then we need to assess and make adjustments.
Although the end result will taste the same, the vegetables are much prettier sliced into julienne matchsticks on a mandoline instead of grated on a box grater or in a food processor.
3 small zucchini, grated
3 small yellow squashes, grated
2 carrots, grated
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
Finely grated zest and juice of 2 lemons
2 shallots, finely chopped
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
½ cup pure olive oil
¼ cup chopped mixed fresh herbs (such as flat-leaf parsley, tarragon, and mint)
Pinch of sugar
Combine the zucchini, yellow squashes, and carrots in a bowl. Season with salt and pepper.
In a small bowl, whisk together the lemon zest and juice, shallots, and mustard. Season with salt and pepper. Add the olive oil in a slow, steady stream until creamy and emulsified. Add the herbs and sugar.
Just before serving, pour the dressing over the vegetables and toss to coat. Taste and adjust for seasoning with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Serve immediately on chilled plates.
There’s a restaurant in Sens, France, about twenty miles from where I lived and worked. The chef-owner, Patrick Gaulthier, periodically taught at
La Varenne. He once made a mushroom salad that was the simplest thing possible, yet it made such an impression, it still resonates with me years later. His approach, and the approach of successful chefs, is to do even the simplest tasks as perfectly as possible. He handled those lowly
champignons de Paris as if they were the finest
cèpes.
To follow his example, remove the stems from 8 ounces white button mushrooms. Then, using a paring knife, grasp the bottom edge of the mushroom and pull to peel; the outer skin will come off in strips, leaving the mushroom perfectly white. Slice the mushrooms lengthwise as thinly as possible. Spread the mushrooms out on chilled plates and drizzle each with a squeeze of lemon. Drizzle with the best-quality extra-virgin olive oil and mound a spoonful of the squash slaw in the center. Serve immediately.
Southern Salad Macédoine, served the Brilliant way in Artichoke Bottoms
SERVES 4
Corn, butter beans, and green beans are summer staples in the south. Macédoine refers to a mixture of cut fruits or vegetables of different colors. The key in this salad is everything is cut about the same size. This salad is found on menus of little cafés throughout France, but unfortunately it is sometimes the French version of “airline food,” a hodgepodge of overcooked vegetables held together with mayonnaise. Now, that sounds like a Southerner’s dream, doesn’t it? Southerners have embraced mayonnaise, practically making it a food group. In my version, the vegetables are cooked to crisp and just coated in a light mayonnaise dressing, blending the best of both worlds.
2 ears fresh sweet corn, shucked and silk removed
1 cup freshly shelled butter beans (about 12 ounces unshelled) or thawed frozen butter beans
6 ounces green beans, ends trimmed and cut into ¼-inch lengths (about 1 cup)
2 carrots, diced (about 1 cup)
½ cup mayonnaise
¼ cup chopped mixed fresh herbs (such as tarragon, flat-leaf parsley, and basil)
Coarse salt and freshly cracked black pepper
8 ounces mesclun salad greens
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
Juice of ½ lemon
Prepare an ice-water bath by filling a large bowl with ice and water. Line a plate with paper towels.
To cook the corn, bring a large pot of salted water to a rolling boil over high heat. Add the corn and cook until tender, 2 to 3 minutes. Remove with tongs to the ice water to cool, and then transfer to the towel-lined plate to drain.
To cook the butter beans, add them to the simmering water and simmer until tender but not mushy, about 20 minutes. (Taste one and see how tender it is; the cooking time will depend on their freshness.) About 15 minutes into the cooking, add the green beans and carrots. Meanwhile, cut the corn kernels from the cobs and place in a large bowl.
Drain the vegetables well in a colander, and then set the colander with the vegetables in the ice-water bath (to set the color and stop the cooking), making sure the vegetables are submerged. Lift out of the water, shake well to remove the excess water, then transfer the vegetables to the bowl with the corn.
Add the mayonnaise and herbs. Taste and adjust for seasoning with salt and pepper.
Place the greens in a large bowl. Add the olive oil and lemon juice and toss to coat. Season with salt and pepper. Divide the greens equally among chilled serving plates. Top with equal portions of the macédoine salad. Serve immediately.
In classic French cooking, the use of an artichoke bottom as a garniture is termed châtelaine, also a term for the mistress of a château, indicating something very elegant. In this case, serving our Basic salad in an artichoke bottom is not only elegant, it’s Brilliant.
Using a sharp kitchen knife, trim all but an inch of the stem from 4 artichokes. Cut off the top two-thirds, leaving about 1½ inches at the base. Hold the artichoke upside down and pare away the leaves, leaving just the pale green center. Rub the cut surface with lemon juice to prevent discoloration. Holding the bottom in the palm of one hand, scoop out the fuzzy choke with a spoon. Place in a bowl of water with the
juice of a lemon to reduce oxidation and browning until you are ready to cook.
To cook, heat 4 cups salted water in a heavy pot over medium-high heat to a gentle boil. Add 1 halved lemon, 2 sprigs thyme, and 1 bay leaf, preferably fresh, and the prepared artichoke bottoms. Cover with a smaller lid or heatproof plate to weigh down and keep the bottoms submerged. Cook over medium heat until the hearts are tender when pierced with knife, about 30 minutes. Remove with a slotted spoon to a bowl of ice water to cool. When cool, remove and pat dry. Drizzle with pure olive oil and
season with coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper When you are ready to serve, lightly dress the artichoke bottoms as well as the mesclun greens. Place one on each chilled serving plate, trimming if necessary so it sits flat. Top with the greens and a spoonful of the chilled vegetable mixture. Season with
finishing salt and freshly ground pepper. Serve immediately.
I get lots of questions about salt. Glancing over at my stovetop, I can see at least ten different salts on my work surface, and I know there are at least a few more in the cupboard. In general, I cook with kosher salt. Sea salt is harvested from evaporated seawater and receives little or no processing, so it still contains the minerals from the water it came from. Salt harvested from the coast of France is going to be different from salt from the coast Spain, or Georgia, if we harvested salt. I like to use smoked salts, too, because they allow for smoky bacon flavor without the saturated fat. Most often smoked salts are made from large-flake sea salt. Some premier sea salts, such as fleur de sel, are considered finishing salts that add something special when applied to food. They are a bit more expensive and are added at the end of cooking.
SERVES 4 TO 6
The simplest of Southern salads is a plate of sliced tomatoes, seasoned with a little salt and pepper. No fancy olive oil. No herbs. Usually next to it on the table is an equally old-fashioned combination of thinly sliced Vidalia onions and cucumbers seasoned with a bracing splash of white vinegar whisked together with “salad oil.” As pedestrian as that may sound, when the vegetables are garden fresh, there’s nothing better.
The combination of watermelon and tomato would be considered weird at worst, or “fancy gourmet” at best, on a great many Southern tables. I can envision my grandmother’s puzzled face if I had suggested adding watermelon to her tomato salad. It may not be traditional, but once again, it embraces the winning Basic combination of sour, salty, bitter, and sweet that satisfies our palates. To give this salad a burst of umami flavor, just before combining everything, add 1 to 2 ounces thinly sliced cured sausage, such as saucisson, salami, or sopressata.
2 large ripe tomatoes, preferably heirloom, cored and cut into eighths
2- to 3-pound piece watermelon, cut from the rind and cubed (about 1 pound/1 quart, cubed)
1 cucumber, peeled, if necessary, halved lengthwise, seeded, and sliced into ¼-inch crescents
1 banana or yellow wax pepper, sliced into ¼-inch rings, with seeds
1 small bunch watercress, tough stems removed
½ small onion, preferably Vidalia, very thinly sliced
3 tablespoons red wine vinegar
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
¼ cup chopped mixed fresh herbs (such as basil, mint, and flat-leaf parsley)
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
¼ cup microgreens (such as basil, arugula, or beet), optional
Combine the tomatoes, watermelon, cucumber, pepper, watercress, and onion in a large bowl. Whisk together the vinegar and olive oil. Drizzle it over the salad. Add the herbs and season with salt and pepper. Toss to combine. Serve on chilled plates and garnish with the microgreens.
One of the methods chefs employ to elevate a dish to restaurant quality is layering flavor. In this dish, the flavor of the fresh tomato is juxtaposed with a pop of deliciously sour in the Brilliant. This chic little pickle (
pictured here) comes from Steven Satterfield, chef-owner of Miller Union in Atlanta. Peeling cherry tomatoes is a bit fussy, but that extra step is what makes them Brilliant.
First, in a sterilized 1 quart jar, place 1 sprig thyme, 6 peppercorns, 2 whole cloves, and 1 bay leaf, preferably fresh. Set aside. Then, with a sharp knife, score the bottom of 4 cups cherry tomatoes with an “x” shape, being careful not to pierce too deeply into the flesh. Drop them into a pot of boiling water for 10 seconds and then shock in ice water to stop them from cooking. Using your fingers or a paring knife, remove the skins gently, being careful not to break the fruit. Discard the skins. Add the peeled tomatoes to the jar, with very thin onion slices between each layer of tomatoes. Heat 1 cup Champagne vinegar, ¾ cup water, ¼ cup sugar, and 2 tablespoons kosher salt in a medium saucepan over medium high heat until boiling. Remove from heat and ladle the liquid into the jar. (You may have some liquid leftover; it depends on the size of the tomatoes.) Refrigerate overnight. Remove the pickled tomatoes from the brine with a slotted spoon. Makes 1 quart. Serve as a garnish.
SERVES 4 TO 6
My mother has never met a green bean she didn’t like. She “got it honest” because her father, Dede, felt the same. He and my grandmother would grow bushels and bushels in their garden, and throughout the summer we would eat them fresh, as well as put them up in mason jars. Dede would close the seals so tightly with his strong, brawny hands that he was the only one who could open them. More than ten years after his death, we sold the house Meme, Dede, and, subsequently, Mama lived in. I found cases and cases of his canned beans in the eaves of the attic.
Don’t chop the nuts too finely or they will turn the mixture dry, absorbing all of the creaminess.
1½ pounds haricots verts or other thin green beans, ends trimmed
½ cup crème fraîche or sour cream
½ cup almonds or walnuts, toasted and coarsely chopped
2 tablespoons chopped fresh basil
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 to 2 tablespoons low-fat or whole milk, if needed
Make an ice-water bath by filling a large bowl with ice and water. Line a plate with paper towels.
To cook the beans, bring a large pot of salted water to a rolling boil over high heat. Add the beans and cook until crisp-tender, about 3 minutes. Drain well in a colander, then set the colander with the beans in the ice-water bath to set the color and stop the cooking, making sure the beans are submerged. Once chilled, remove the beans to the prepared plate. Pat dry with paper towels and transfer to a bowl.
Combine the crème fraîche, almonds, and basil. Season with salt and pepper. Pour over the beans and toss to coat. Taste and adjust for seasoning with salt and pepper. If the dressing seems too thick, drizzle on the milk and toss again to coat. Serve at room temperature or chill and serve cold.
One of my goals in this book is to show home cooks that a recipe can be elevated from Basic to Brilliant, made more chef inspired, without “dumbing down” the Basic, shaving a truffle, or drizzling copious amounts of duck fat over everything. However, sometimes special and more expensive ingredients are needed to take a recipe to the top, and this is one of them. Mushrooms and green beans have an affinity for one another—there’s a reason that old-fashioned green bean casserole with cream of mushroom soup topped with crispy onions tastes so good.
To prepare the porcini crumbs, coarsely chop 4 to 6 slices sourdough bread and combine with ¾ ounce dried porcini mushrooms in a food processor fitted with the metal blade. Pulse until coarse crumbs form. Heat 1 tablespoon each pure olive oil and unsalted butter in a skillet over medium-high heat until melted. Add the crumbs and season with coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until golden and crispy, about 5 minutes. Remove with a slotted spoon. Makes about 1½ cups. Sprinkle the porcini crumbs over the salad and serve immediately.
SERVES 4 TO 6
Meme loved celery, but I find it sometimes gets the short end of the stick, or stalk, as the case may be. It’s used as a flavoring agent in stocks and soup, but other than being stuffed with pimento cheese or served as an obligatory accompaniment for hot wings, it’s seldom featured in the kitchen. Its flavor is assertively herbaceous and can be overpowering, but in this recipe, I celebrate celery (pictured at the beginning of the chapter).
Celery and its more sophisticated cousin, celery root, also known as celeriac, are cultivars of the same plant species, but not the same plant. In other words, the bunch of the celery we eat does not grow atop the root celeriac. They are more like kissin’ cousins.
1 bunch celery
1 English cucumber
Juice of 1 lemon
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil
3 sprigs tarragon
Remove all the leaves from the celery; set aside for the garnish. Remove the outer stalks of the celery to use in the salad, reserving the heart for another use. Trim the tough white root ends from the stalks. Using a paring knife, pull and remove the tough strings. Hold the celery stalk flat against a clean work surface and use a vegetable peeler to make long ribbons from top to bottom. (Toward the end of peeling the stalks, it can become a bit more difficult to use the flimsy pieces; discard or save for another use, such as stock.)
Place the ribbons in a bowl. Peel the cucumber and discard the outer peel. Then, keep peeling ribbons from the outer fleshy part of the cucumber, turning as you go, stopping at and discarding the remaining seedy core. Add the cucumber ribbons to the bowl with the celery. Add the lemon juice. Toss to coat and set aside.
To make the dressing, whisk together the vinegar, mustard, and salt and pepper to taste in a large salad bowl. Add the olive oil in a slow, steady stream, whisking constantly, until creamy and emulsified. Strip the leaves from 2 of the tarragon sprigs and chop to make about 1 tablespoon. Add the tarragon to the salad and season with salt and pepper. Pour the dressing over the ribbons and toss to coat. Taste and adjust for seasoning with salt and pepper.
Strip the leaves from the remaining sprig of tarragon. Serve the salad on chilled plates, garnished with the reserved celery leaves and whole tarragon leaves.
Using similar flavors to play one off another is a very chef-inspired way to coax flavor from a dish, so we’re going to marry our kissin’ cousins.
To heighten the flavors of this salad to Brilliant, peel and grate 1 small celery root (about 1 pound), preferably using the large holes of a box grater. Place in a small bowl and squeeze over the juice of 1 lemon to prevent it from turning brown. Toss to coat, then add to the prepared celery ribbons. Taste and adjust for seasoning with finishing salt and freshly ground black pepper. Serve immediately on chilled plates. This duo may be served solo or as a base for crab, poached shrimp, or even steamed lobster. The sweetness of seafood is an elegant counterpoint to the crisp, grassy salad.
Arugula with Country Ham and Pecans, served the Brilliant way with Crispy Deep Fried Eggs.
SERVES 4 TO 6
This salad is a great example of sour, salty, bitter, sweet, and savory. Right out of the gate, we’re hitting all our marks. The essential element that makes this basic recipe shine is country ham. Since ancient times, humans have cured pork, and people have loved the pig. Dry-curing the hind legs of pigs is one of the oldest ways of preserving meat. Ham pairs beautifully with sweet, spicy, and creamy foods; those flavors and textures counteract the meat’s saltiness, which can range from mild to assertive. In my opinion, anything with country ham has a leg up on the competition.
8 cups arugula, dandelion, or frisée (about 6 ounces)
3 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
½ teaspoon firmly packed light brown sugar
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons canola oil
3 thin slices country ham, cut into lardons
½ onion, preferably Vidalia, thinly sliced
1 small clove garlic, finely chopped
½ cup crumbled aged white Cheddar cheese (about 2 ounces)
¼ cup chopped pecans
Place the greens in a large bowl. Set aside. Stir together the vinegar, brown sugar, salt, and pepper in a small bowl until the sugar dissolves. Set aside.
Heat the oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. Add the ham and cook, stirring occasionally, until crisp, 5 to 7 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the ham to a plate lined with paper towels.
Add the onion to the skillet and cook over medium heat, stirring frequently, until translucent, 3 to 5 minutes; add the garlic and cook until fragrant, 45 to 60 seconds. Add the vinegar mixture, then remove from the heat. Working quickly, scrape the bottom of the skillet with a wooden spoon to loosen any yummy browned bits. Set aside to cool just slightly.
Pour the warm dressing over the reserved greens, add the ham, and toss gently with tongs until the arugula is slightly wilted. Taste and adjust for seasoning with salt and pepper. Divide among chilled serving plates. Sprinkle over the cheese and pecans. Season with freshly ground black pepper and serve immediately.
Green eggs and ham? How about Greens with Egg and Ham to take this Basic salad to Brilliant?
Bring 4 large eggs to room temperature. Line a plate with paper towels and set aside. In a small, heavy saucepan, pour in about 1½ cups peanut oil to fill half full. Heat over medium heat until the temperature registers 350°F on a deep-fry thermometer. Working with 1 egg at a time, break the egg into a small ramekin, and then slowly and carefully slide it into the hot oil. It will spit and sizzle. Cook until the egg is crunchy on the outside and the yolk is still runny, about 1½ minutes. Using a slotted spoon, lift the egg out of the oil and transfer to the prepared plate. Season with
finishing salt and freshly ground black pepper. Repeat with the remaining eggs. Serve immediately atop the wilted salad.
A matchstick-size piece of bacon is called a lardon. Strictly speaking, however, lardons are long strips of fat sewn into lean meat with a larding needle (lardoire) to keep the meat moist and flavorful during cooking. I find it easier to cut the meat into lardons before cooking, instead of cooking strips of bacon whole, then crumbling.
SERVES 4 TO 6
One summer while living in France, I surprised my mother and came home to visit for a week. Meme and my friend Evan were in on the ruse, but Mama was completely surprised. I told her ahead of time that I would be traveling but would call her—we usually spoke a few times a week. (My phone bill has always been fairly significant.) I flew into Atlanta, Evan picked me up at the airport, and we drove home, arriving about midnight. Using Evan’s cell phone, I called Mama as we were pulling into the driveway and told her to look outside. At first she thought I was being silly, but she walked outside. I got out of the car, and we hugged each other so hard, I thought we’d crack each other’s ribs.
I’ve always considered calling home to be as necessary as paying the power or water bill; it’s just part of life. When Meme passed away, Mama and I started calling every night to check on each other. Now more than ten years later, the habit remains the same. Sometimes schedules or traveling in distant time zones get in the way, but for the most part we speak at least four or five times a week, even if it’s only to say, “Good night, I love you.”
1 (16-ounce) box elbow macaroni
3 celery stalks, very finely chopped
3 carrots, shredded
1 onion, preferably Vidalia, very finely chopped
½ cup mayonnaise, or to taste
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 cup shredded mild Cheddar cheese (4 ounces), for garnish
Bring a large pot of salted water to a rolling boil. Add the macaroni and cook until tender, about 10 minutes, or according to package instructions. Drain well and transfer to a large bowl to cool.
Once the macaroni is cooled, add the celery, carrots, onion, and mayonnaise. Season with salt and pepper. Cover with plastic wrap and chill in the refrigerator until cold, at least 2 hours. Taste and adjust for seasoning with salt and pepper. Sprinkle the cheese over just before serving.
Jumbo lump crabmeat is the best and most expensive crabmeat, consisting of whole lumps of white meat from the body of the crab. It is best used in recipes where appearance is important.
Pick through 1 pound jumbo lump crabmeat for shells and cartilage without breaking apart the large hunks of crab. Once the macaroni salad is prepared, add the prepared crab. Taste and adjust for seasoning with coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper. Add the cheese. Serve immediately on chilled plates.
SERVES 4 TO 6
Several years ago I was able to take part in a taste test at a food laboratory. A scientist in a pristine white lab coat measured our sensations and determined I was “bitter deficient,” meaning that my palate did not recognize bitter. I was appalled. Something was wrong with my palate? I was confused because I love bitter tastes, but it makes sense—I don’t fully taste bitter. My head hung low and I questioned if my career was over. We moved on to the next series of tests, on our sense of smell. We were given a dozen or so clear vials of liquid and asked to identify the scent. Not only did I make my way through the test, I got the best score. In fact, I was only the third person in thousands of tests in the history of the lab to do so well. They were incredulous, and I was relieved I would still have a job.
This slaw is not for the faint of heart. The greens are strong and slightly bitter, the dressing is lemony tart with smelly blue cheese (the Brilliant version is pictured here). My “faulty” palate thinks it’s delicious.
Finely grated zest of 1 lemon
Juice of ½ lemon
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon chopped fresh thyme leaves
1 clove garlic, very finely chopped
½ cup extra-virgin olive oil
4 ounces Roquefort or best-quality blue cheese, crumbled
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 large heads Belgian endive, halved lengthwise, cored, and cut lengthwise
6 cups loosely packed watercress, tough stems removed
In a small bowl, whisk together the lemon zest, lemon juice, vinegar, mustard, thyme, and garlic. Whisk in the oil in a slow, steady stream until emulsified. Add the Roquefort and stir until smooth. Season with salt and pepper. Set aside.
Place the endive and watercress in a large bowl and pour over some of the dressing. Toss to coat and add more dressing, if needed; season with salt and pepper. Serve immediately on chilled plates.
Walnuts and blue cheese make a lovely pair. They argue a bit, kind of like sisters, just enough to make things interesting, but love each other in the end. The addition of these to the full-flavored endive slaw takes this to chef-inspired Brilliant.
Preheat the oven to 325°F. Line a rimmed baking sheet with a silicone baking liner or spray with nonstick cooking spray. Combine 1 cup walnuts with 1 tablespoon honey, 1 tablespoon sugar, and a pinch of cayenne in a bowl. Season with coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper and toss to coat. Spread the nut mixture on the prepared baking sheet (some nuts may clump together). Bake, stirring occasionally to break up clumps, until the nuts are deep golden and the sugar mixture is bubbling, about 15 minutes. Cool completely on the baking sheet. Makes 1 cup. The nuts can be made 3 days ahead. Store in an airtight container.
SERVES 4 TO 6
I wasn’t always that fond of sweet potatoes. Then I realized it wasn’t the sweet potato I didn’t like, it was the insane amounts of granulated sugar, brown sugar, marshmallows, maple syrup, and butter Southerners ingloriously and traditionally heap on top of them. With all that topping, it’s impossible to taste the naturally sweet, and earthy flavor of the actual sweet potato. I grew to love the naturally creamy richness of a roasted sweet potato with just a bit of butter and maybe a mere drizzle of cane syrup or sorghum.
When I tasted them charred and roasted in a salad made by my friend and colleague Laurey Masterton, chef-owner of Laurey’s in Asheville, North Carolina, I couldn’t get enough. Roasted high and hot in a convection oven, they were almost burnt, but not quite. The flavors were incredible with bittersweet dark caramel flavors. The potatoes became what I call “roll around in good.” Her salad inspired this one.
¼ cup pure olive oil, plus more for the baking sheet
3 medium sweet potatoes, peeled and sliced ¼ inch thick on the diagonal
1 red onion, thinly sliced
6 ounces haricots verts or young tender green beans, ends trimmed
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons honey
Juice of 1 lemon
¼ cup coarsely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
Brush a rimmed baking sheet with olive oil and place in the oven. Preheat the oven to 400°F. (If you have convection, use it like Laurey does, just check the potatoes sooner.)
Combine the sweet potatoes, onion, and green beans in a bowl. Pour over the olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Toss to coat. Transfer to the heated baking sheet. Roast, stirring occasionally, until the potatoes are a deep orange and brown, 35 to 45 minutes. Remove from the oven and while still warm, drizzle with the honey and lemon juice. Sprinkle with the parsley. Toss to coat. Taste and adjust for seasoning with salt and pepper.
Serve at room temperature or, preferably, refrigerate to chill. If you are serving the salad cold, taste and adjust for seasoning again since chilling dulls the flavor. Then divide among chilled serving plates.
You can’t really get much more Southern than green beans and sweet potatoes. But serving them cold is not very Southern. The only way those vegetables would have been served cold in Meme’s kitchen would have been if someone was sneaking leftovers out of the fridge. My suggestion for transforming this Basic chilled salad is to add roasted, peeled hazelnuts. Still, not very Southern. In this salad, however, toasted hazelnuts bring a welcome sweet, intense nuttiness that is Brilliant.
To toast nuts, preheat the oven to 350°F. Place 1 cup hazelnuts on a rimmed baking sheet and toast in the oven until the skins crack and begin to peel, about 10 minutes. Transfer to a large kitchen towel, then rub vigorously to loosen the skins. (For all other nuts, proceed with recipe as directed without removing skin.) Transfer the cleaned hazelnuts to a cutting board and coarsely chop. Makes about ½ cup. Sprinkle the chopped nuts over the chilled plates of salad and serve immediately.
SERVES 4
This salad is the quintessential regional dish of the Lower Alabama Gulf Coast area. “LA,” not the one on the West Coast, the one on the “third” coast, is an area rich in food history and culture. This recipe came to me when I was testing recipes for the second edition of Southern Belly by John T. Edge. Somehow I’d never had it before, even though I grew up going to the beach along the Gulf. My goodness, what a revelation! It’s about as simple as you can get. Frankly, it tastes just as good on a plain old Ritz cracker as on a leaf of handpicked, family-farmed, shade-grown, expensive, heirloom, organic butter lettuce.
1 pound jumbo lump crabmeat
1 onion, preferably Vidalia, chopped
1 teaspoon celery seeds
2 teaspoons nonpareil capers, rinsed
2 bay leaves, preferably fresh
Coarse salt and freshly ground white pepper
¾ cup apple cider vinegar
6 tablespoons canola oil
½ cup ice water
Butter lettuce leaves or Ritz crackers, to serve
Pick through the crabmeat for shells and cartilage without breaking apart the large hunks of crab. In a glass or ceramic dish, layer the crab with the onion, celery seeds, capers, and bay leaves. Season each layer with white pepper. In a liquid measuring cup, whisk together the vinegar, oil, and ice water. Pour the dressing over the crabmeat mixture. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.
Taste and adjust for seasoning with salt and pepper. Serve on chilled plates with the aforementioned lettuce leaves or Ritz crackers.
Stacking the salad with avocados and peaches is a Brilliant twist—more “LA” as in California than “LA” as in Lower Alabama.
First, make the salad as above and refrigerate overnight. Chop an avocado and set aside. Then, chop a skin-on, well-washed peach and set aside. (If peaches aren’t in season, you can use a peeled mango instead.) To make a stacked crab cake, place a 2½-inch-wide, 2-inch-tall ring mold, cookie cutter, piece of PVC piping, or even a well-rinsed tuna can with the top and bottom removed on a chilled serving plate. Layer one-quarter of the avocado and then one-quarter of the chopped peaches in the mold, gently pressing each layer lightly with the back of the spoon before adding the next layer. Then, using a slotted spoon, layer one-quarter of the crabmeat on top, pressing firmly. Carefully remove the ring mold. Repeat to make four stacks. Drizzle some of the accumulated juices around the plate and garnish each plate with a wedge of lime. Serve immediately.
Warm Summer Shrimp Salad, served the Brilliant way
SERVES 4 TO 6
I love this sort of dish. A few simple ingredients perfectly executed, building layers of flavor. The shrimp are brined, making them crisp, yet tender and juicy. The corn is cooked in a quick shrimp stock, bringing out its sweetness. Paired with the tartness of the tomato, the zip of a light, lemony mayonnaise, and a spot of mildly pungent basil, this salad is a great summer starter. I prefer using a slightly bitter green, such as arugula or even sliced Belgian endive, to balance the sour, salty, and sweet.
The key word here is “summer” salad. Make this in summer with wild American shrimp when the corn, tomatoes, and basil are ripe.
2 pounds large shrimp (21/25 count), peeled and deveined, shells reserved
2 tablespoons coarse salt, plus more to season
Freshly ground white pepper
4 cups water
Scraped kernels from 6 ears fresh sweet corn (about 3 cups)
1 tablespoon corn oil, preferably unrefined, or pure olive oil
2 to 3 medium to large tomatoes, preferably heirloom, cored and chopped
2 lemons (finely grated zest and juice of 1, and 1 quartered)
¼ cup mayonnaise, or to taste
1 small bunch basil leaves, chopped
½ cup loosely packed microgreens or arugula
Place the shrimp in a bowl. Rub and toss with 1 tablespoon of the coarse salt. Wash under cold running water. Rub once again with the remaining 1 tablespoon salt, wash well under cold running water, then drain in a colander. Pat dry with paper towels. Season the shrimp generously with the white pepper. Set aside.
Combine the shrimp shells and water in a saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Decrease the heat to simmer and let cook until the shells are pink and the broth is fragrant, about 3 minutes. Strain, reserving the broth and discarding the shells. Wipe the saucepan clean.
Return the strained broth to the now-clean saucepan. Add the corn and season with salt and pepper. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Decrease the heat to simmer and cook until the corn is tender, about 3 minutes. Drain in a fine-mesh sieve. Place the corn in a medium bowl. Set aside.
Heat the oil in a large skillet over high heat until shimmering. Add the reserved shrimp and cook until pink and opaque, 3 to 5 minutes.
Add the shrimp and chopped tomatoes to the corn. Add the lemon zest, lemon juice, mayonnaise, and basil. Stir to combine. Taste and adjust for seasoning with salt and pepper. Divide among chilled plates. Garnish each with microgreens and a wedge of lemon. Serve immediately.
This recipe is already about building layers of flavor—using shrimp stock to cook the corn, using corn oil to cook the shrimp. To elevate this simple and elegant, yet Basic recipe to Brilliant, add popcorn to take it a step further.
Prepare the recipe as for Basic and spoon onto room-temperature serving places. Scatter each plate with ¼ cup freshly popped, lightly salted popcorn. This popcorn enhances the already present flavor of the corn as well as mixing up the textures and temperatures.
SERVES 4 TO 6
Both green beans and shell beans are tropical and require a long, hot growing season, perfect for the South. I grew up eating beans and rice in Louisiana and, once introduced, quickly fell in love with lentils. They are a great dried legume—technically they are not beans—because they are very flavorful, almost meaty, and cook quickly. The best-quality lentils are the French lentilles du Puy, petite, gray-black, caviar-like disks.
8 cups water
1 pound lentils (2 cups), preferably lentilles du Puy, rinsed and picked over
Bouquet garni (1 bay leaf, preferably fresh; 2 sprigs thyme; 2 sprigs flat-leaf parsley; and 6 whole black peppercorns, tied together in cheesecloth)
2 slices bacon, cut into lardons, or 1 tablespoon pure olive oil
1 clove garlic, very finely chopped
1 onion, preferably Vidalia, finely chopped
1 carrot, finely chopped
1 celery stalk, finely chopped
Coarse salt and freshly ground white pepper
1 recipe Shallot Vinaigrette
Combine the water, lentils, and bouquet garni in a saucepan and bring to a boil over high heat. Decrease the heat and simmer uncovered, skimming frequently, until the lentils are tender, about 30 minutes. Remove from the heat and drain in a fine-mesh sieve. Remove and discard the bouquet garni. Transfer the lentils to a large bowl.
Meanwhile, line a plate with paper towels. In a saucepan, cook the bacon over medium heat until crisp, about 5 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, remove the bacon to the prepared plate to drain. Pour off all but 1 tablespoon of the drippings (reserve the excess fat for another use). Or, heat the oil in a large skillet over high heat until shimmering. Add the onion, carrot, and celery and season with salt and white pepper. Quickly toss to cook and sear, about 3 minutes. Scatter over the cooling lentils. Pour the dressing over the lentils and toss to coat. Taste and adjust for seasoning with salt and pepper. Divide among shallow bowls. Serve warm or at room temperature.
Homemade and healthy turkey sausage will take this Basic salad to a Brilliant and filling meal
Combine 12 ounces ground turkey; 1 pear, cored and grated on a box grater; ¼ cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley; 1 tablespoon chopped fresh sage; 1 tablespoon chopped fresh rosemary; ¼ teaspoon ground allspice; and 1 large egg in a large bowl. Season with coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper and mix well. Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper. Using hands moistened with water, form 8 patties, each about 3 inches in diameter. Place on the prepared baking sheet and refrigerate until firm, about 30 minutes. Heat 2 tablespoons canola oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Working in batches, cook the patties, until browned on each side and the juices run clear, about 3 minutes per side. Makes 8. Place 2 patties each on top of each serving of the lentil salad. Serve immediately.
Summer Squash Slaw