Bill Neal’s Southern Cooking marks milestone


Carolina Cornucopia, a Conference on Foodways of the Tar Heel State, will be held May 29-30 at the Friday Center in Chapel Hill. The conference is free (there is an optional $40 dinner event) but registration is required . For details, visit http://ncfoodways.web.unc.edu/.



At right, 1985 jacket design of Bill Neal’s
Southern Cooking.  Moreton Neal says her
ex-husband used he electric stove below
which still works in the house now occupied by
their son, Matt Neal  of Neal’s Deli in Carrboro.
“I tell people, when they are interested in all
these fancy stoves and appliances, that Bill tested
every recipe for all of his books on a cheap

Sears electric stove,” she says.  “The point is,

it’s not the appliance; it’s the cook.”

 

 

If not for an argument, one of the most influential books on Southern regional cooking might never have been written."That book was formulated in his head and he wanted to leave to write it," says Gene Hamer, owner of Crook's Corner in Chapel Hill. "We were so busy with the restaurant. Bill was trying to carve out time to write when we went our separate ways."

Hamer is referring to Bill Neal, the self-taught chef who opened Chapel Hill's La Residence in 1976 with his then-wife Moreton Neal. The book, started a year after Hamer and Neal opened Crook's in 1982, was to become the culinary classic Bill Neal's Southern Cooking.

Hamer recalls that Neal wanted to move to New York for a few months, a notion Hamer deemed unreasonable as he had a new business to manage. Assuming they'd never work together again, Hamer bought out Neal's share of Crook's.

Neal actually returned to Crook's the following year, helping to launch a trajectory that led to the James Beard Foundation presenting its American Classic Award to the landmark in 2011.

"Bill needed a place to show off the book, and I needed his face," Hamer recalls. "The fact is, for the business to work, we needed each other. We renewed the bond of our friendship. I still miss him every day."

When the book was published in 1985 by the University of North Carolina Press, Craig Claiborne, influential food editor at The New York Times, wrote a lengthy article. Claiborne credited Neal for bringing deserved attention to Southern foodways, much in the same way that chef Alice Waters and Chez Panisse steered culinary interest toward newly minted "California cuisine."

Which was exactly what Neal wanted to hear.

"He resented that California was getting all the attention," recalls Moreton Neal, who introduced Neal to sophisticated Southern food in her native Mississippi. “Bill had an uncanny knack for getting ahead of a trend. He felt that if people would just go back to before World War II, before everything was processed and corn syrup and margarine got popular, they’d see that the South had an equally rich food heritage.”

Thirty years after its publication, Bill Neal's Southern Cooking will be the topic of a May 30 plenary session of the Carolina Cornucopia conference at the Friday Center in Chapel Hill. The influential book defied the stereotypical beliefs about Southern food; largely, that all proteins are fried and all vegetables greased with fatback.

Shrimp and Grits at Crook's Corner
(photo courtesy @sally_cooks)

A classic example of Neal's enduring legacy is his recipe for Shrimp and Grits, variations of which have become ubiquitous at Southern restaurants. It remains on the Crook’s menu, where it continues to satisfy locals and dazzle diners who travel there for the express experience.

Fans also make pilgrimages to Neal's Deli in Carrboro, where they seek out Bill and Moreton Neal's son, owner Matt Neal. He recalls a chef from Cambridge, Massachusetts, stopping to visit and talk about how Southern Cooking was a touchstone in his own career.

"I didn't think that much about it, because it happens a lot," Matt Neal says. "But earlier this month I saw that Barry Maiden was named Best Chef Northeast by the James Beard Foundation. It kind of blew my mind. It's gratifying to my family that people are keeping this book alive."



Kim Severson

Bill Neal went on to write two more cookbooks and edited Through the Garden Gate, a compilation of columns by garden writer Elizabeth Lawrence, before his death in 1991 at age 41. Food writer Kim Severson of The New York Times says Southern Cooking remains his most important work.

“The book and Mr. Neal himself built the frame on which this latest Southern food revolution was built,” observes Severson, an ardent advocate of Southern fare who lives in Atlanta. “That book codified an elevation of Southern cooking that was quite true to the food.”

Chef Ben Barker considered the book so essential that it was required reading for new kitchen staff at Durham's now-closed Magnolia Grill.

"We felt that, if you were a native, it was a great way to re-visit the food of your region, or examine regional variations of classic dishes," Barker says. "And if you weren't a native, it is a historically accurate, well-written introduction to the larder and the cuisine. We often used the recipes as jumping off points for inspiration, or foundation, for dishes at the Grill."

Nathalie Dupree is a Charleston-based cookbook writer whose lifetime achievements led to her being inducted this month into the James Beard Foundation Who's Who of Food & Beverage. She says Southern Cooking broke new ground in distinguishing regional cuisines within the South and defining unique characteristics with roots in diverse populations, geography, agricultural potential and economics.


Nathalie Dupree

"It was an enormous breakthrough for our understanding of Southern food," Dupree says. "I think it is even more important today, in a sense, as so many of us were slow to realize the vast implications."

Moreton Neal, who wrote the 2004 cookbook/memoir Remembering Bill Neal: Favorite Recipes From a Life in Cooking, says he was thoroughly immersed in testing recipes and writing Southern Cooking. The book has since been revised and expanded by UNC Press.

“Before then, the best Southern recipes came from those little Junior League and church cookbooks, and they had very little detail,” Neal says. “I remember reading one of his recipes and thinking that it just went on and on. I didn’t think people would like it. But I was completely wrong. It turned out that it was quite an achievement.”

This first appeared in Indy Week.

Ben Adams leaves Piedmont, triggering changes in Durham dining scene

Ben Adams (left) and Wyatt Dickson
(Photo courtesy Jennifer Kelly)

It's been two years since chef Ben Adams took over the kitchen at Piedmont. He and general manager and wine director Crawford Leavoy lifted the Durham eatery from a slump to become a hotspot known for creative seasonal fare and spot-on service. Now, Adams has left to launch his own place.

Set to open this fall in North Durham, it's tentatively named Picnic. The name is a nod to comfort food cuisine that can range from beach blankets and icy Budweiser tall boys to silver trays and mint juleps, as well as the picnic shoulder cut favored over the Boston butt by partner and pitmaster Wyatt Dickson of Pig Whistle. Picnic's third partner is Ryan Butler of Green Button Farm in Bahama, whose pasture-raised heritage pigs could practically walk to the not-quite-finalized location.

Meanwhile, Piedmont is continuing with acting chef de cuisine Lorenzo Leon Guerrero. He will stay on to support the next executive chef, Greg Gettles, current sous chef at Herons at the Umstead Hotel, who takes over June 1. Scott Crawford, former executive chef at Herons, hired Gettles when Ben Barker was closing his legendary Magnolia Grill in 2012.
Adams and Dickson met in 2002 as fraternity brothers at the University of North Carolina. Independently, Adams and Dickson moved to New York after graduation, where they worked in “suit jobs” providing legal and financial services.

As they sat in Crook’s Corner last Wednesday, sharing plates of Pig Whistle barbecue and a twist on traditional slaw—red cabbage, green onions and a bright cilantro vinaigrette—Adams and Dickson dressed in the casual, come-as-you-are look they hope customers will wear at Picnic.

"The sides and small plates will be my thing," Adams says, pausing to dip some of chef Bill Smith's Hoppin' John before passing the bowl around the table. "Some will be familiar to Piedmont diners, like my collards with smoked bacon."

The Charleston native, who cooked at Sean Brock's famed McCrady's before being lured to the Triangle, says other dishes under consideration include a mac 'n' cheese starring Chapel Hill Creamery's award-winning Calvander, baked beans with Sea Island red peas, and fresh ceviche served with pork cracklins. A pop-up preview is May 23 at Daisy Cakes.

"This restaurant was always in the back of our minds, but I was glad to wait until [Adams] was ready," Dickson says. "We won't be garnishing dishes with tweezers and micro greens, but the experience he's gained at Piedmont is invaluable. Just wait until they see his rillettes and terrines. It will set us apart from most of barbecue places."

Barbecue figured prominently in Dickson's life while he grew up in Fayetteville. His dad bottled batches of the family's eastern-style sauce as holiday gifts. Dickson, however, says his style weds the best of eastern and western traditions.

"I think of it as the 'Great Carolina Compromise,'" he says with a hearty laugh, referencing Pig Whistle's business motto. "After all, what's a little ketchup between friends?"

Dickson started developing his signature sauce at his UNC fraternity, where he cooked for football games. He didn't barbecue while in New York but started again in 2008 when he returned to Carolina for law school. His focus though became creating a catering business.
Dickson’s first big boost came from chef Andrea Reusing, who invited him in 2012 to cook a whole hog at the 10th anniversary celebration of Lantern in Chapel Hill. It was the first time he used heritage pork (Reusing’s supply is raised by Chapel Hill Creamery on whey, an abundant cheese byproduct). He never went back to commodity meat.

Aside from special restaurant events—Piedmont featured Pig Whistle at a whole hog dinner last July, and Crook's will have it on the menu again June 3—the only way to try Dickson's barbecue is to place a party-size order. Picnic will allow him to serve fresh, affordable portions daily.

Lunches will range from $7-$10, with dinners around $12-$18. Choices other than barbecue will be available. Daily specials will be designed around seasonal availability.

If ribs are your favorite part of the pig, Dickson advises showing up early. “A pig only has so many ribs,” he says. “This isn’t a factory. We’ll serve them one or two at a time to make sure people who really want them can get some.”
 
Pop-Up Events:

● May 23, 7 p.m.: Ben Adams will serve Picnic-style sides and small plates at Daisy Cakes, 401A Foster St., Durham (919-389-4307). Note: 16-seat limit.

● June 3, 5:30 p.m. (until gone): Wyatt Dickson’s Pig Whistle pork barbecue will be featured on the menu at Crook’s Corner, 610 W. Franklin St., Chapel Hill (919-929-7643)

● June 7, 4–7p.m.: Pig Whistle will be paired with Green Button Farms at the annual Farm to Fork Picnic held at WC Breeze Family Farm, Hurdle Mills. Details at farmtoforknc.com

This story first appeared in Indy Week.

Spring brings soft-shell crabs back to Crook’s Corner – but never to the menu

Bill Smith, chef at Crook’s Corner in Chapel Hill, will be the guest of Culinary Historians of Piedmont North Carolina (CHOP NC) at 7 p.m. Wednesday, May 15, at Flyleaf Books.  

The combination of UNC graduation and Mother’s Day weekend always means big business for Crook’s Corner. Add to that the long awaited arrival of soft-shell crabs and you’ll see lines of eager customers wrapping around the block.

“I cleaned 39 dozen soft-shells, which took me from 9 in the morning to 2:30 in the afternoon,” Smith says just before the doors open for business on Thursday afternoon. “I think this should hold us through the weekend, but you never know.”

Standard blue crabs become soft-shells when they molt and shed their hard exoskeleton. They are among a select group of seasonal delights Smith prepares that cause regulars to go wild; others include honeysuckle sorbet, which will follow soon, and persimmon pudding, a delicacy of fall.

“I’ve seen fights break out over our soft-shell crabs,” he says, doffing his ball cap and smoothing his unruly hair. “I can’t list it on the menu because it sells out so fast. If we have soft-shells and honeysuckle sorbet at the same time, people will break down the door.”

Smith quietly announces their arrival to loyal followers of his @Chulegre Twitter account and the Crook’s Corner’s Facebook page. No matter how much someone pleased or begs, they will not reserve orders. “Oh, Lord no,” he says. “If you want some, be here at 5:30.”

His reputation as an expert on soft-shells, and seafood in general, has earned Smith a volume in the Savor the South series of cookbooks being produced by UNC Press. His entry will focus on crab and oysters and should arrive in 2014.

Smith grew up catching crabs with a chicken neck and string when he was a boy in New Bern. He keenly recalls his first taste of soft-shells with his aunt and uncle, who often took him for Sunday drives.

“We would go down to the town of Sea Level in Carteret County,” he recalls. “There was a restaurant there right on the water with a wall that was all windows. It took forever to get there and it always seemed like the end of the world to me.”

On one visit, Smith figures he was around 8 years old, he looked at the menu and told the server he’d have the soft-shell crabs. “My aunt said, ‘No, you mean deviled crabs.’ I wouldn't admit I didn't know what they were,” he says some 56 years later, “but I loved them."

Unless ordered in a restaurant, crabs were largely viewed as “free food” at the time by coastal residents, who found and ate them in abundance. “I learned how to catch and clean them when we’d visit my grandmother in the summer. She would make a crab stew that was very good,” he says. “Now, of course, crabs are very expensive.”

Soft-shells are even more costly because of the extra effort involved in catching them just after they molt. While usually available locally by now, Smith had to import his current order from Virginia’s Eastern Shore, which has been warmer that the North Carolina coast.

While he’s glad that customers rush to Crook’s Corner to enjoy them, Smith says home cooks should give them a try. If squeamish about dispatching them to crab heaven – for safe consumption, it is essential for soft-shells to be alive when purchased – most bona fide fishmongers will do the deed for you.

Smith recommends seeking out medium size soft-shell crabs. While jumbo specimens may look tempting, they are more difficult to prepare without overcooking. And don’t panic if a claw or leg falls off before the finished dish makes it to the table. “No matter how careful you are, it happens,” he says with a shrug. “Sometimes we save the loose claws in a bowl and enjoy them at the end of the night.”

Smith is collecting a variety of soft-shell recipes for the Savor the South book, which is likely to include a grilled version tossed with fettuccini that he enjoyed in Venice. Of all the possible variations, there are just two methods he refuses to consider.

“Don't fry them,” he says protectively. “The ones we do here are sautéed in browned butter with lemon juice, garlic and basil.”

The other unspeakable practice is to steam them, which a health-conscious customer requested a few years ago.

“Browned and crispy is the way to go, but she thought it wasn’t healthy cooked in butter,” he says, laughing and shaking his head. “I told her I thought they would taste like crickets. It's important to me for customers to be happy, but I wouldn't do it.”

Crooks’ Corner Soft-Shelled Crabs

Reprinted with permission of Bill Smith from Seasoned in the South: Recipes From Crook’s Corner and From Home (Algonquin Books, 2006).

Serves 4

8 fresh soft-shelled crabs
1 cup self-rising flour
1 cup Maseca instant corn masa mix
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 cup buttermilk
½ cup clarified unsalted butter
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
4 tablespoons chopped garlic
Juice of 1 lemon (about ¼ cup)
¼ cup thin basil chiffonade

Clean the crabs (if you seafood market won’t do it for you) by first snipping off the face with kitchen shears. They should be soft and squishy all over. Then lift up each side of the carapace and snip out the gills. (These are four or five white, curved, pointed “devil’s fingers” extending from the center of the crab to the end of the shell on both sides.) Flip the crab over and cut off the tail flap – on males it is narrow; on females it is fat. Hold the crab under cool running water and gently squeeze out the yellow guts that are inside and just under the top of the shell. You don’t need to squeeze the main part of the body beneath this shell. Rinse thoroughly and pat dry. Very appetizing so far, yes?

Mix the flour and Maseca together and season with the salt and pepper. It is very important to use enough salt, so taste the flour before you begin.

Dip the crabs in buttermilk and then dredge in the flour. Shake off any excess flour and sauté them in very hot clarified butter – a quarter inch deep – until pretty and brown, turning once. The crabs should be crispy and very hot at the center. Remove them to a warm platter. Be careful, because they pop and spit a great deal, especially when very fresh. My staff refers to this as frying fire crackers.

Pour off the butter, but try to keep as much of the crumbs and browned flour in the pan as possible. Put the pan back on high heat and add the 3 tablespoons of whole butter. Begin swirling the pan at once. The butter will begin to melt and smell toasty. When the butter is pretty and brown, quickly add the garlic, swirl to spread it around, and immediately add the lemon juice to prevent the garlic from browning. Remove from heat, add the basil, and pour over the crabs. Serve at once. (They are not good cold.)

This process sounds tricky, but once you have done it correctly it will always be easy because the smell is so divine it will guide you ever after.

On Cinco de Mayo, declare your independence from Margaritas with a beer-based cocktail

House-made sangrita gives the Michelada
a special kick at Dos Perros in Durham.

For many Americans, Cinco de Mayo is celebrated as an annual excuse to drink to excess, generally by means of machine-dispensed frozen Margaritas that look like neon-hued slushies. Even if you opt to go on the rocks, there's generally little opportunity to go au naturale in busy bars that rely on  commercial mixers.

There are plenty of places in the Triangle where one can procure a truly fine hand-crafted Margarita made with fresh fruit, herbed infusions and and top-shelf tequila. But this weekend, undoubtedly one of the most profitable for tavern owners, what some gringo celebrants will find in their disposable cups is a rough mix of cheap tequila tempered by the cloying sweetness of a mass-produced mixer.

There's no rule that one must swill tequila to commemorate Mexico's unlikely victory over the French at the Battle of Puebla in 1862. Indeed, one imagines that hot and tired soliders were glad to revive their spirits much as thirsty modern Mexicans do -- with an ice-cold beer brightened by a generous squeeze of fresh lime juice.

Across Mexico, you are about as likely to be served a beer with lime juice as you are to receive a sweet pour if you request iced tea in the American South.  But why stop there? Creative Mexican bartenders make all sorts of cocktails using beer, the most famous of which surely is the Michelada.

The Michelada is a cousin to the Bloody Mary, but with beer in place of vodka. There are about as many variations on the general theme as there are la barras in the distinct regions of Mexico, and across the U.S., where the drink is especially popular in border states -- and others, like North Carolina, with rapidly growing Latino communities. The Michelada's robust flavor can vary significantly, starting with pale or dark beer. Options include tomato juice or Clamato; hot sauce or a blend of select chiles; Worcester, soy or savory MSG-rich Maggi sauce -- or all three, depending on whose recipe you follow.


Michelada, Eating My Words-style, with
tomato juice, Worcester and Tiger Sauce.

You can choose from hundreds of Michelada recipes posted online, including ones by chef Rick Bayless, who tirelessly promotes authentic regional Mexican foods in his books and cooking shows. The flavor profile has become so internationally renown that chef Marcus Samuelsson, born in Ethiopia and raised in Sweden, confidently titles his version The Perfect Michelada Recipe. It was the starting point for several we made last night -- and one more today, so far -- strictly for the purpose of research.

Chef Bill Smith of Crook's Corner, who travels extensively in Mexico, believes that two area bars do an especially good job with beer-based cocktails. One is the Michelda at Dos Perros in Durham; the other is the Tiger Mojito at the recently opened Lucha Tigre in Chapel Hill. Both restaurants graciously shared their recipes.

So, if you're out and about celebrating Cinco de Mayo this weekend, leave the Margaritas for the first-timers and try a Michelada or other beer-based specialty. And if your friends call the next day in a post-tequila fog, be an amigo and invite them over. After all, among the magical Michelada's claims to fame is its acknowledged status as a hangover remedy.

Dos Perros Michelada

Rim a pint glass with a mix of salt, toasted chipotle peppers, Spanish paprika and cayenne pepper. Fill glass halfway with ice.

Prepare a shot of sangrita, which Dos Perros makes from the "juice" of its pico de gallo -- you can substitute the juice of homemade or store-bought pico -- Valentina hot sauce and a splash of orange and lime juices.

Serve components separately (see photo at beginning). Pour sangrita over ice then top with a Modelo Especial.

Lucha Tigre Tiger Mojito
Muddle a healthy pinch of mint, about 8-10 leaves, at the bottom of a pint glass. Add 2 teaspoons of sugar and fill the glass with ice.
Pour in 1/4 oz. fresh lime juice and 1/4 oz. light rum. Fill with Tiger Beer.
Stir with bar spoon until sugar is incorporated. Garnish with mint, lime wedge and sugar cane.

It’s possible – and even OK – to get decent snapshots of your supper

Maybe it’s because we’re eating out less and pinching our pennies more. Maybe it’s honest admiration of a flavorful if fleeting art form.


Spice-crusted salmon, one of the Triange Restaurant
Week options at G2B Gastro Pub in Durham.

Whatever the reason, it appears that more folks are determined to get everything they can out of their dining experiences. And that includes using their smart phones – discreetly or boldly – to document and share the foods they enjoy in restaurants. 

Whether or not you admit to doing so yourself, it’s hard to imagine that anyone who eats out has never seen someone at the next table pausing in conversation to admire a just delivered dish – and using their camera phone to catapult the still-steaming image forth into global foodiverse.

Many of us don’t feel the slightest hesitation when taking a photo of a chef’s carefully conceived and expertly executed creation. We’ve paid for it, right? We can enjoy it as we see fit.

Well, not at Momofuko, the pricey New York City hotspot which legendary food tyrant David Chang has declared a photo-free zone. According to last week’s New York Times, diners who dare to take a snapshot will be publicly shamed into submission.

Most chefs cited in the report say they don’t mind if customers take and post photos of their famous food, so long as they do not use flash or disturb other diners with antics like standing on their chair for a better angle.

Several top Triangle area chefs agree with the social media savvy Mario Batali, who reassuringly tweeted a humble devotee that it’s fine to take photos in his global empire of eateries – so long as it’s done without flash. In fact, this new-media slice of Southern hospitality abides even at some of the most elegant establishments.  

“We view this as flattery when people do it in Herons,” says Scott Crawford, executive chef at the signature restaurant of the posh Umstead Hotel and Spa in Cary. “We haven't made any rules because people are usually discreet and respectful of other guests. My only wish,” jokes Crawford, who has a Twitter account (@chefcrawford) but rarely uses it, “is that the lighting was better so the images would be more stunning.”


Even a humble lunch from the Tribune Towers cafeteria
gets the star treatment by food writer Bill Daley. 

Bill Daley, popular food and features writer at the Chicago Tribune, posts photos daily of what he eats and how he gets there. Friends humor him and wait until all meals are properly documented before taking a bite. “It can be a make or break date moment,” he concedes with a playful “LOL.”


Daley, who uses Facebook and Twitter (@BillDaley), thoughtfully silences his phone’s shutter click to minimize disturbance of other diners and always turns off the flash. Well, almost always. 

“Mine went off by mistake last night and I was mortified,” he says. “I try to work fast. I shoot to my phone's camera roll and edit later so the screen isn't always lit. I try to capture the moment as quickly and naturally as possible.”

Bill Smith of Crook’s Corner in Chapel Hill doesn’t mind a bit when diners take and post photos. After all, he’s doing the same thing in the kitchen, where he often shares images of new creations that will be featured on that night’s menu. A recent example featured tempting carrot pies. One follower, clearly at ease with the collaborative atmosphere, suggested serving it with a sweet curry ice cream.


Chef Bill Smith recently posted
carrot pies being prepped for
dinner at Crook's Corner.

“People take pictures at Crook’s all the time and as far as I know it has never been a cause for complaint,” says Smith, who tweets as @Chulegre and also posts to Facebook. “We have no policy about it. I’ve done it at other restaurants many times, although I try to restrain myself somewhat.”

At G2B Gastro Pub in Durham, cordial servers stand by as if poised to assist when diners try to capture the composed elegance of Chef Carrie Schlieffer’s food (@carrieG2Bpub). Good humored manager Chris Lynch even shares that his wife, who had resisted getting a smart phone, now takes and posts food photos all the time.

So what is the proper etiquette for a photo-minded foodie? Matt Duckor, who writes Bon Appettit’s Consumed column, says customers should not feel cowed by mega-chefs who try to sap the fun out of fine dining. As a direct response to the kerfuffle, Duckor (@mattduckor) this week advises readers how to get the most of their camera phone while (openly or surreptitiously) photographing their suppers.

“It is possible to take decent food photos at the table,” Duckor insists in italics. Rule No. 1: turn off the flash. Take pictures directly above or straight at whatever you’re shooting. No funky filters. And, "Finally, and this is important folks, don't act like a jerk."

"Yes, you're paying for a service," Duckor writes. "No, you don't get to make the rules."

Town lore: Crook’s Corner’s honeysuckle sorbet

This blog was first published by Chapel Hill Magazine.

Most nights in May, right around 6 p.m., Bill Smith walks out the side door of Crook’s Corner with an iced pitcher concealing a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon. He heads directly across the street then down a path leading to a tangle of plants and weeds that sprout from the broken asphalt of an abandoned parking lot.

As he approaches a lush thicket one warm Friday night, the humid air hangs like a curtain. Step through it and you’ll be enveloped in the rich perfume of honeysuckles – an aroma so transporting that it instantly beckons forth childhood memories of pulling out the delicate stamens to reveal tiny beads of nectar.

“Sometimes, when the pitcher gets full of blooms, I just like to close my eyes and breathe in the aroma,” Smith says, leaning in as if nosing a snifter of fine cognac. “I’m amazed every time how intense it is.”

It’s not usual for this ritual to attract a crowd. This sultry night draws a young man on a bicycle who rolls in to inspect the harvest. He pauses to pull back his dreadlocks to cool his neck and ask what happening. “We pick these to make sorbet,” Smith says, launching in a polite speech delivered a hundred times each spring.

“That’s really cool that you make something with these,” the fellow says, inhaling deeply as he surveys the seemingly endless supply of weedy blooms. “They smell so good. It must be wonderful.”

It is. Smith’s honeysuckle sorbet is a true rite of spring at Crook’s Corner, the Chapel Hill landmark where whispers and hopeful online postings routinely draw room-filling crowds. Even though the recipe is posted in Smith’s celebrated 2005 book, Seasoned in the South (Algonquin Books), and available from several online links, fans prefer to enjoy it made by the hand of the master.

“It’s part of town lore,” Smith says with an amused shrug and a swig of PBR. “Sometimes, when people hear it’s available, it’s like a riot in here. It’s the same with soft shell crabs. I’ve trained my staff to be clear: We will have it when we open at 5:30. No, we cannot save it for you.”

Despite this, some diners can’t help but make a fuss when the legendary stuff runs out. “I tell them, ‘It’s time to be an adult,’” Smith says, peering over his glasses in a humorous visage of mock scolding. “People do sometimes lose it, but seriously. I mean, we’ll have more.”

Until they don’t. Honeysuckle sorbet is available most nights in May, and sometimes well into June, so long as the bushes are productive. After that, fans must be patient until the following spring.

“We tried to save a batch once as a special treat for New Year’s, but it tasted like sugar and ice,” he recalls. “The flavor just disappeared.”

It took three years for Smith to perfect the recipe, which yields a snowy, fragrant sorbet that he swears is different with every batch. A sampling from different pickings both were exceptionally delicious and refreshing, but in fact, one was decidedly more floral and satisfyingly slushy.

Elizabeth Du Bosc of Chapel Hill has been addicted for years. She stops at Crook’s Corner at least two or three times a week when it’s available, including her May birthday, and gleefully brings friends and family to get them hooked as well.

“You are God’s gift to TASTEBUDS,” she declared recently on her Facebook page, where she also confessed to dabbing a bit behind her ears like perfume. She’s also slurped this season’s treasure wearing a tiara of woven honeysuckle blossoms.

Not everyone is so convinced. At least once a year, Smith says, “I get yelled at by angry botanists. They say things like, ‘Don’t you know that’s an invasive species?’ Good lord. I didn’t plant it, and at least I’m making use of it. It’s silly to castigate me.”

While angry botanists may disapprove, wild honeysuckle can be found on roadsides and along greenways throughout the Piedmont. A forager’s delight, it takes hardly any time to collect enough for a batch of sorbet, which requires little more effort than using an ice cream machine to turn into the stuff of mid-spring’s night’s dream. Smith favors an old-fashioned crank with rock salt, but whatever you’ve got should work.

Honeysuckle Sorbet
@2005 Bill Smith with permission of Algonquin Press.

4 cups (tightly packed buy not smashed) honeysuckle flowers, leaves and stems discarded
5 ½ cups cool water
1 1/3 cups water
2 cups sugar
Few drops of freshly squeezed lemon juice
Speck of cinnamon

Place the flowers in a nonreactive container (glass or stainless steel) and cover with cool water. Weight down with a plate. Let them stand on the counter overnight.

In a small sauce pan make a syrup out of the sugar and water by boiling it until all sugar is dissolved and it begins to look lustrous and slightly thick, 3-5 minutes. Add a few drops of lemon juice to prevent the sugar from recrystalizing. Cool the syrup completely.  Strain the honeysuckle infusion, gently pressing the blossoms so as to not waste any of your previous efforts.  Combine the two liquids and add the merest dusting of cinnamon. You don’t want to taste it but you can tell if it’s not there. Churn in an ice-cream maker. This does not keep more than a week or two.

Crook’s-inspired Honeysuckle Jelly – two ways

This blog was first published by Chapel Hill Magazine.

Honeysuckle sorbet is one of the many signature dishes that makes Crook’s Corner a Chapel Hill landmark. Developed by Chef Bill Smith from a Renaissance-era recipe for jasmine ice, the delicate flavor of this decadent slush inspires near riots in the West Franklin Street eatery every spring.

Smith’s fuss-free recipe is easy to recreate at home, and it converts nicely into a simple but intoxicatingly fragrant jelly. Indeed, the ingredients are nearly identical, with the exception of added low-sugar pectin and canning jars instead of an ice-cream machine.

The Crook’s-inspired Honeysuckle Jelly below is easily tweaked to create a jewel-toned strawberry variation – which no doubt would be insanely good made instead with sun-warmed wild blackberries, which just happen to grow amid Smith’s preferred honeysuckle patch. Either way, the recipes are so simple and reliable that they were used to teach a first-time canner how to make jelly.  

Smith prefers to pick honeysuckles in the evening, when their perfume is heavy, but concedes he’s had delicious results with flowers plucked dewy-fresh is the morning, too. An ideal time is after a rain, when older blooms have shaken loose, leaving the best pickings behind.

The honeysuckles used to make these jellies were gathered along the greenway of our North Raleigh neighborhood, but they can be found in plentiful supply along roadsides and other places where weeds thrive. Be careful to choose bushes that have not been chemically treated, and ask permission as appropriate.

You’ll likely observe a lot of variation – some flowers are pure white to the stem while others reveal a tender blush of pink, and the petals will range from white to buttery yellow. Avoid ones that are dark yellow or shriveled as they may be bitter, and for goodness sake, don’t bother pinching off the tiny green bases.

“Some people think I actually do that at the restaurant, or use just the stamens because that’s their childhood experience with honeysuckles,” Smith says with a chuckle. “If I did that, I’d never get around to making anything.”

Honeysuckle Jelly

4 cups (tightly packed buy not smashed) honeysuckle flowers, leaves and stems discarded
5 cups cool water
1 package low-sugar pectin (such as Sure-Jell in the pink box)
3 cups sugar
½ tsp. unsalted butter
1 tsp. freshly squeezed lemon juice
Speck of cinnamon

Prepare a dozen 4-ounce jelly jars (or comparable assortment) according to USDA guidelines.

Place the flowers in a nonreactive container (glass or stainless steel) and cover with cool water. Weight down with a plate. Sit on counter overnight or at least 8 hours. Drain mixture through a jelly bag or cheesecloth-lined colander. Measure 4½ cups honeysuckle stock; discard blooms.

In a deep, heavy-bottom pot – I use a pasta pot – pour in stock and add package of pectin and ¼ cup sugar. Over medium-high heat, stir until sugar and pectin are fully incorporated. Stirring often, add butter and bring mixture to a rolling boil that cannot be stirred down.

When at a full bubble, add the rest of the sugar all at once, plus the lemon juice and cinnamon. Stir frequently until mix returns to a rolling boil that cannot be stirred down. Use a timer or count off 60 seconds. Transfer pot to heatproof surface.

If necessary, skim any foam with a tight mesh strainer. Carefully pour hot jelly into prepared jars, top with warmed lids and finger-tighten screw-on bands. Place jars in water bath and boil for about 10 minutes. Turn off heat and let the jars settle for about 5 minutes, then carefully remove and set on a heatproof surface where they can remain undisturbed until cooled and set.

Don’t worry if the jelly does not set quickly. It should firm up nicely by the next day, but if it doesn’t, fear not. You can now boast of having made amazing honeysuckle syrup, great in cocktails or drizzled on desserts. If you’re daring, you can even dab a drop behind your ears.

Strawberry-Honeysuckle Jelly

2 cups fresh strawberries, coarsely chopped

5 cups water

Add strawberries to water in a medium sauce pan and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer, covered, for 20 minutes. Remove from heat and cool to room temperature. Drain through jelly bag or cheesecloth-lined colander and discard remaining strawberry mush.

From this point on, continue as described in the original Honeysuckle Jelly Recipe, substituting 5 cups of strawberry water for plain water.