Carolina Crossroads Chef James Clark specializes in obscure fish

Chef James Clark's rose-dotted snapper, served
on a bed of stone-ground grits and dressed
in a sauce of minced ramps flambéd in Pernod.
© Photo by  DL Anderson

This story was first published in INDY Week.

Pity the jolthead porgy. Related to the grunt, it is among the many oddly named fish that, like awkward schoolchildren hoping to get picked for the dodgeball team, watches as its glamorous cousins such as grouper are selected for discerning customers at top restaurants.

But that's not how it works at Carolina Crossroads, the elegant dining room of the historic Carolina Inn at Chapel Hill. Though Chef James Clark has been cooking there less than a year, he has established a reputation for seeking out lesser-known but equally delicious and sustainable varieties that fishermen pull from the waters of the Carolina coast.

"My favorite is line-caught scorpion fish. They've got this hideous face with knobs," he says, demonstrating with a waggle of his large hands near his ears. "Most people won't give them a second glance, but I'm telling you, it's the best–tasting fish in the world."

Like most of the seafood Clark fixes in battered, nonstick pans in the restaurant's large kitchen, scorpion fish—when he's lucky enough to find some—get a slow sauté in light oil and are finished with a scoop of butter. "It cooks like oysters with this sweet cucumber flavor," Clark says with a dreamy look and a quick pursing of his lips, as if to catch the last drop of the memory's succulence. "Really, if you ever see it on a menu or in a market, you must try it."

It takes a brave man to sell fish with funky names to the affluent diners who frequent Carolina Crossroads, but Clark backs up his bravado by preparing unfamiliar eats in classic combinations. The jolthead porgy, for example, is finished in browned butter and served atop a generous smear of celery root purée. Clark adds an aromatic sauté of asparagus and oyster mushrooms, then garnishes the dish with a pearly dab of caramelized onion vinaigrette.

"People won't necessarily drive here thinking, 'Ooh, I hope they have jolthead porgy tonight,'" he says, wiping the edge of the plate to enhance its presentation. "But I don't think anyone who really enjoys fish would mind being served this."

The day Clark drove to Chapel Hill from Myrtle Beach for his cooking interview, he brought jolthead porgy, triggerfish and lane snapper—all procured from Wayne Mershon at Kenyon Seafood in Murrells Inlet, S.C. He had 11 hours to prepare seven dishes for eight people. Among them was a flight of ceviches, though he grew uncertain as to whether a trio of lime-cured raw fish was a smart idea.

"Thank god, it was their favorite course," Clark recalls. "It really built my confidence. I want to use underutilized fish every day. That's my shtick."

He now orders fish through Dock to Door Seafood of Chapel Hill, a wholesale distributor that provides the catch of the day to several top local restaurants. For those wanting to incorporate more under-appreciated fish at home, he recommends developing a relationship with an independent fishmonger or shopping at a well-stocked market with knowledgeable staff.

"The most important consideration when buying any type of fish is freshness," Clark says, urging customers to ask questions and even request a sniff before committing to a purchase. "These are people who genuinely care about what they're doing, and they'll be honest. When you understand more about fish, you're more likely to buy it often."

Inland markets and fine dining establishments are increasingly offering varieties that only a few years ago were considered unsellable outside of the coastal communities where they were caught. This includes versatile triggerfish, which award-winning cookbook author James Peterson heartily recommends ("snatch it up right away") in his encyclopedic Fish & Shellfish; red drum (think of Paul Prudhomme's once-ubiquitous blackened red fish); amberjack; and sustainable varieties of snapper.

Clark recently used rose-spotted snapper to demonstrate a dish for INDY Week. After seasoning lightly with salt and freshly ground pepper, he says to always start cooking "presentation side" down—which in his book means skin-side down. Clark does not slash the thin skin of the snapper, though doing so with other fish may help to prevent it from curling while cooking. Instead, he lightly presses down on the flesh with a wide spoon to keep it flat.

"Please, don't fry a beautiful piece of fish like this," Clark implores as he angles the pan to quickly scoop up foaming butter for basting. "You want to cook slowly on medium heat, which will give you crisp skin and moist flesh. No one wants to eat rubbery fish."

Clark finely minces some boiled ramps and red onion, which he then cooks over a low flame in a small skillet. He dramatically pours in a glug of anise-flavored Pernod to flambé the ingredients, plunking in a great scoop of butter as the flames subside. Noticing how observers were agog at the amount of butter and booze, Clark chuckles. "It's not healthy to eat like this every day," he concedes, "but it's good and it's good for you."

Served on a base of stone-ground grits, the sauced snapper looked a lot like a T-bone. "It's true of a lot of fish," he says. "If you were blindfolded and touched cooked triggerfish, you'd swear it was filet mignon. If I could get more people who eat steak and pork and chicken to just try fish, I know I'd sell a whole lot more of it."

Customers who appreciate his finesse with fish already have forced Clark to make big changes in the way he orders supplies. When he took over the kitchen, fish dishes accounted for about 25 percent of dinner sales. Today, it's about 55 percent.

So how does one sell a grunt to a first-timer? "Some people see these fish on the menu and think they've walked into Iron Chef, but it's not like that," Clark says. "It's all about educating your wait staff. Once they've tasted it, trust me, it's an easy sell."

Warm summer potato salad

This salad was a sudden inspiration to serve as a side dish for grilled pompano, one of the sweetest and simplest to cook sustainable fish to come from Carolina waters. I used vegetables from today's farmer's market foray, plus a jar of creamy garbanzo beans that I recently pressure canned. It was dressed with some basil picked fresh from our garden and a splash of Girard's blue cheese vinaigrette. I considered making my own, but it's light, delicious -- and was staring at me from the cupboard. If you have two extra minutes to spare, feel free to make your own.

Sorry, no photo. I didn't think to get one before dinner and there was barely anything left to rinse out of the bowl afterwards. Serves four hungry people; to turn into a main course, serve over mixed spring greens with extra vinaigrette on the side.

Warm Summer Potato Salad

1 medium spring onion, sliced thin (including some of the green)

1 pint garbanzo beans, rinsed

2 cups cubed carrot

3 cups cubed potato, skin on 

3/4 lb. fresh green beans, stemmed and snapped in half

2 tbsp. kosher salt, plus 1 tsp.

freshly ground pepper

1/3 cup blue cheese vinaigrette (such as Girard's, or homemade)

1 tbsp. white balsamic vinegar

2 tbsp. fresh-picked basil, rolled and sliced thin

Fill a medium stock pot about 2/3 with water. Add 2 tbsp. salt, cover and bring to a boil.

Trim spring onion, keeping a few inches of the green part, and slice thin. Transfer to large bowl. Rinse garbanzo beans; shake off excess water and add to mixing bowl.

Carefully pour carrots into boiling water and cook about 2 minutes, uncovered. Add green beans, stir and cook another 2-3 minutes. Check to ensure that both are tender crisp. Remove with slotted spoon or spider, draining well, then add to mixing bowl. Pour vinaigrette over warm mixture, stir and lightly cover.

Add cubed potatoes to the same boiling water. Cook 4-5 minutes, until  tender but not mushy. Drain in colander, shaking off excess water before adding to mixing bowl. 

Add 1 tsp. salt, a generous grind of pepper, the white balsamic and chiffonade of basil; mix well but try to not crush the potato cubes. Taste and adjust seasoning as needed. Lightly cover and rest about 20 minutes for flavors to meld. Serve barely warm or at room temperature.

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.

Arugula Shrimp Burgers

Tim bought a bounty of beautifully plump Carolina shrimp the other day. We enjoyed half of them in a stir fry and saved the rest to make shrimp burgers the next day. I had intended to use the Lee Bros. reliable recipe until I realized that I sent my books off to be signed a few weeks ago and have not yet reclaimed them.

I scanned the fridge for inspiration and found it in a large container of peppery aurgula, Graham's favorite green. From idea to first bite, our delicious dinner was ready in under 30 minutes.

Arugula Shrimp Burgers
Makes 3 for dinner (or about a 12-15 appetizers)

1 lb. fresh Carolina shrimp, peeled and deveined
1 large handful arugula
1 egg white
1/2 cup panko bread crumbs, divided
1/2-1 teaspoon hot sauce
salt and freshly ground black pepper
canola oil
3 brioche rolls or hamburger buns, toasted
mayo and mustard

Grab a large handful of arugula and place it in the workbowl of a food processor. Pulse-chop until fine but not watery.  Add the shrimp, pulse-chopping just until chunky. Do not overwork the shrimp as it will turn into an unappetizing paste. Add egg white, hot sauce, salt and pepper; pulse until just combined.

Transfer to medium bowl. Add about 1 tablespoon of the panko crumbs and stir to combine. Form into three patties. Arrange on a plate and chill about 15 minutes. (If you wish to chill longer and cook later, cover with plastic wrap.)

Pour about 3 tablespoons of canola oil into 10- or 12-inch nonstick pan over medium-high heat. While oil warms, lightly press shrimp burgers into remaining panko crumbs to create a crust. Slide patties into the oil and cook until golden brown; carefully flip over and allow the second side to become equally golden. Remove from pan and drain briefly on paper towels.

Serve immediately on toasted brioche rolls lightly coated with mayo and your favorite mustard. I'm addicted to Gulden's Zesty Honey and Graham is likewise keen on Inglehoffer stone ground. Tim goes with the flow. If seasonal, add a nice slab of tomato.

Baker Karen Barker prefers savory crunch over sugary sweets for dessert

Karen and Ben Barker will be the guest speakers for Culinary Historians of Piedmont North Carolina (CHOP NC) from 7:30-8:30 p.m. Wednesday, April 17, at Flyleaf Books in Chapel Hill. A meet and greet will precede the reading from 6:45-7:15 p.m. next door at Foster’s Market.


Karen Barker's Olive Oil Biscotti with Orange and Rosemary

There are many home bakers and professional chefs who aspire to be as creative Karen Barker. But now and then, the James Beard Award-winning pastry chef – who used to dazzle customers at the much-missed Magnolia Grill – finds herself in the position of a fan who just has to know how a certain treat was made.

“There is a great coffee place in the East Village of New York City that Ben and I really like called Abraco,” Barker says from the kitchen of the couple’s Chapel Hill home. “They make a sweet-savory black olive biscotti that is just delicious.”

Barker has made her share of biscotti; the twice-baked cookie can be made from a wide variety of ingredients (different flours and fats, with or without eggs) and endless flavor profiles. But there was something about this one that was especially memorable.  


Karen and Ben Barker prepare for dinner with friends.

“I’m not a big sugar person, so sweets don’t often excite me,” Barker says as she gathered ingredients on the heavy butcher block counter. “Once in Provence I saw someone make a dessert with black olive and tomatoes and herbs. But this was the first time I’d ever tasted a biscotti anything like that. I loved it.”

Barker was making a batch to bring to a meeting the next day of their dinner party club. Ben was prepping an appetizer of brined lamb tongue to be simmered with shallot in a red wine sauce. Karen was making the biscotti to provide a crunchy counterpoint to the final course, a dairy-free chocolate mousse served with a red Italian dessert wine.

“A savory cookie is not for everyone,” she concedes while giving the fragrant, purplish olives a quick mince and grinding a generous amount of black pepper into her mixer’s work bowl. “But dunk this into some wine, or scoop up some chocolate mousse … it’s just perfect.”

Barker says the recipe could be easily tweaked to substitute other ingredients: use lemon zest instead of orange, leave out the olives and add walnuts. “I wouldn’t try green olive, though,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “I just don’t think that would work.” 

Barker leaves the end slices on the counter after she returns the cookies to the oven for their final toasting. “Baker’s privilege,” she says, nibbling a slice deemed not pretty enough to serve. She closes her eyes for a moment to let the flavors fill her mouth.

“I have to say, I find these pretty addictive,” she sighs. “I have a hard time just having one of them."

Karen Barker’s Olive Oil Biscotti with Rosemary and Orange

Makes 1 loaf (about 18-22 slices)

2/3 cup sugar
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
2 eggs
1½ cups all-purpose flour
2/3 cup semolina or yellow corn meal
2 tsp. baking powder
½ tsp. salt
1 tsbp. minced rosemary
zest of 1 orange
1/4 cup fine chopped black olives (such as kalamata)
a few grinds of black pepper

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Combine first three ingredients in the work bowl of mixer; combine well with paddle attachment. Add remaining ingredients, mix again. Ensure that all ingredients are thoroughly blended but avoid overworking the dough, which will be sticky.

Transfer dough with floured hands to a rimmed baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Lightly press into the shape of a 12x3-inch log, adding pinches of flour if needed. Chill for at least 40 minutes but preferably for several hours.

Bake for 30 minutes or until loaf is lightly browned. Remove from oven. When cool enough to handle, use a serrated knife and cut half-inch slices on the diagonal; should yield about 18-22 pieces. Arrange flat on the baking pan - it's OK if they are crowded - and return to oven until just lightly golden around the edges, about 5-6 minutes. Turn slices over and toast again, about 3-4 minutes, until just golden on the edges.

Cool biscotti completely. Wrap in parchment paper or keep in airtight container.

Celebrate spring with a sip of New Orleans: Susan Spicer's basil-infused Cotillion cocktail

One evening several years ago, a neighbor’s daughter stopped by our house and rang the bell. I went to the kitchen door and saw her standing, well dressed and seemingly murmuring to herself, out on our front porch. This struck me as curious on several levels, but mostly because no one uses our front door.

When I unlocked it and teased her for ringing the bell, I saw her take a deep breath and extend her hand.

“Good evening,” she said with a polite brio that made me think she could probably make a better impression at a job interview than some of my co-workers. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Okay, so ... nice, but weird. This sort of thing never happened where I grew up in New Jersey. When I rang a neighbor’s doorbell they’d pretend they weren’t home to avoid buying chocolate bars or oranges or whatever we were selling that year to finance a band exchange trip.

After getting the low-down from her mother, I learned that this was an essential phase of cotillion training, a sort of pre-coming out grooming that also included knowing the difference between a salad fork and one used to poke at – but probably not really eat – a calorie-laden dessert.

For me, cotillion brings to mind something else entirely.  I think of the cocktail, a satisfying sip infused with fresh muddled basil. It’s a drink that reminds you just nice it is that winter is over and spring has finally arrived – even if your car is covered with sticky yellow pine pollen.

While typically made with bourbon and rum, we prefer the tequila variation Susan Spicer includes in her fabulous book, Crescent City Cooking. Published on the same date as our 24^th anniversary in 2007, it was a gift from my husband as a remembrance of our 20^th anniversary trip to New Orleans, where we were so dazzled by Spicer’s Bayona restaurant that we made a second reservation before we paid our first bill.

Spicer’s recipe is posted on the Amazon link to her book – you must also try her amazing Jalapeno Pork Pork Roast, which makes great sandwiches – so I feel safe including it here in an effort to spread some seasonal cheer among friends who participate in #LetsLunch, a global food community that posts themed recipes each month. This month’s choice is “spring break.”

If you don’t have basil growing in your garden yet, get some from the market or a garden center. Instead of buying a bunch of limp, packaged basil for $2.19, I bought a hearty plant for $2.99, which will keep us in basil through summer – despite the fact that we pinched off a nice sprig to make cocktails tonight.

Cotillion
Susan Spicer, Crescent City Cooking

Makes one cocktail (but plan on having several)

5–6 fresh basil leaves, plus one for garnish
1 sugar cube
1 ounce Cointreau or triple sec
1½ ounces Patron or other silver tequila
5 ounces orange juice, preferably fresh-squeezed

Using a wooden spoon or "muddler," mash the basil with the sugar cube and Cointreau in a tall Collins glass. Fill the glass with crushed ice and add the tequila and orange juice. Stir with a long spoon or straw and garnish with a basil leaf.