Reason No. 473 on why you should learn how to can

I've been spending the day happily browsing Andrea Weigl's new Pickles & Preserves, a volume in the Savor the South series from UNC Press. It is a pleasant reminder of the joys of canning, a welcome thought on this day when our windows are open to a sunny and mild March afternoon. 

I am reminded of the contentedness that comes from both making canned goods and sharing them with friends, as well as the simple pleasure of opening a jar of something that tastes as seasonal as the day it was sealed. With such good cheer, could one be faulted for using one's own canning pantry to create a cocktail at 4 in the afternoon?

Sad news on a day last summer halted my plan to make Bill Smith's famous honeysuckle sorbet. Rather than pitch the fragrant infusion, I turned it into a simple syrup and placed filled pint jars in a boiling water bath. I hoped for the best, assuming the delicate flavor would droop.

But, oh, it did not. Combine with muddled mint and lemon, a spoonful of jam, a shot of vodka and a splash of soda, and you've got a taste of summer on a not-quite spring day.

Honeysuckle Sipper

Makes one drink.

2-3 fresh mint leaves
1 slim wedge of lemon
1 generous teaspoon raspberry jam (or other flavor)
3 ounces honeysuckle syrup
2 ounces vodka
club soda

Muddle mint and lemon in a cocktail shaker. Add jam and ice, then honeysuckle syrup and vodka. Shake vigorously.

Strain and pour into tall ice-filled glass. Top with club soda and give it a quick stir. Garnish with a mint leaf. (If it's your first one. Otherwise, forget it.)

Rinse and repeat.

Let's Lunch: Orange curd tarts fit for Alice

“In the very middle of the court was a table, with a large dish of tarts upon it: they looked so good, that it made Alice quite hungry to look at them--`I wish they'd get the trial done,' she thought, `and hand round the refreshments!' But there seemed to be no chance of this, so she began looking at everything about her, to pass away the time.”

--Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll (1865)

This past weekend, we welcomed friends at an open house to meet our almost-daughter-in-law, Angel Barnes, and her relentlessly endearing pup, Pilot. We also had the good fortune to show off Tim’s mother, Dotty, who flew here for the occasion from Ohio.  

We started planning the menu weeks ago and spent the days before the party in a mad dash of housecleaning and cooking. One could not help thinking at the time, “I’m late! I’m late! For a very important date!” -- which made a particular sweet seem the perfect selection for this month's Let's Lunch topic of "literary food."

I had decided early on to make a batch of sunny orange curd to fill scalloped phyllo tart shells. The oranges were from a package of spectacular Honeybells, a heavenly blend of sweet Dancy tangerines and tangy grapefruit, that we’d received as a gift from my brother.  

The tarts were one of four bite-sized nibbles we made for the dessert table, including strawberry balsamic meringues, mini double-chocolate cupcakes and shot-glass portions of Bill Smith’s justifiably famous butterscotch pudding. The latter required the most frequent refilling to cure briefly heartbroken guests who thought they missed their luscious window of opportunity.

The tarts, however, were so damn good that Tim personally invited everyone to grab a few before they were gone, which happened faster than I imagined. And while I still had plenty of curd, I had no extra shells.

Had I done my homework in advance, I would have better understood the literary implications of offering, and then denying, this potent elixir. According to Scribd. – an online source surely cited by countless college freshmen – orange’s symbolism in literature references “the point of balance between the spirit and the libido; it may be the emblem of divine love or extreme lust.”  

Lesson learned. Make this lovely curd with the best seasonal oranges available – and buy more than two packages of tart shells.

Honeybell Orange Curd Tarts
Adapted from Rose Levy Berenbaum’s As Orange as It Gets.

4 tablespoons *Honeybell orange zest (or other seasonal variety)
4 large egg yolks, room temperature
¾ cup sugar
6½ tablespoons freshly squeezed Honeybell orange juice
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into pieces and softened
pinch of kosher salt
3-4 packages of phyllo tart shells (such as Athens, from freezer case)

Zest two large Honeybell oranges into a small bowl; set aside.

Juice the oranges. Pour through a mesh sieve to remove any fiber. If you have more than 6½ tablespoons of juice, swig the bonus.

In a heavy saucepan, beat the yolks and sugar until well blended. Stir in the orange juice, butter and salt. Cook over medium-low heat, stirring constantly. Be careful to never let the mixture boil – it will curdle, breaking your heart and forcing you to start over. Scrape sides of pan now and then to ensure thorough blending.

The curd will take on a rich orange color as it thickens to a consistency similar to hollandaise. It should thickly coat a wooden spoon when done, allowing you to swipe a clean stripe and – strictly for scientific purposes – taste its excellent flavor.

Press the curd through a fine sieve if you are concerned about residue, but I never bother. Fold in zest and allow curd to cool. Transfer to an airtight container, lightly pressing a layer of plastic wrap against the curd.

About an hour before your guests arrive, bake the phyllo tart shells according to directions on the package. When cooled, fill each with a generous teaspoon of curd and arrange on a platter. Remember to take a photo prove how pretty they were before they rapidly vanish.

* My favorite source for Honeybells is Cushman's, which operates the easy-to-remember website www.honeybells.com. This year we received a disappointing shipment, which was somewhat understandable given Florida's unseasonably cold winter. A call to customer service yielded a sincere apology and a replacement box that was nothing short spectacular. 

NOTE: Let’s Lunch (#LetsLunch) is a Twitter-based virtual lunch club where anyone interested can join this monthly "lunch date." A topic is posted at least a month in advance, and all posts are made on the same d ay -- typically the first Friday of the month -- by a group of bloggers who range from amateurs to best-selling cookbook writers. Anyone can join at any time. Search for #LetsLunch on Twitter or Let's Lunch on Facebook.

Chapel Hill start remains a key influence for Chef John Currrence

This story first posted in Indy Week.

Chef John Currence’s first cookbook is both badass autobiography and an affectionate embrace of his adopted home of Oxford, Miss. But his first restaurant job as a cook, and the place he reveres for launching his career, is Crook’s Corner in Chapel Hill.

“Honestly, I had hoped we’d wrap up the tour with a big event there,” says Currence, whose new Pickles, Pigs & Whiskey will be celebrated with receptions on Sunday at The Garden Terrace at Fearrington and Monday at Joule Coffee in Raleigh. (See details below.)

“I'm certainly going to pop myself up to the bar and hug (owner) Gene Hamer and (chef) Bill Smith around the neck. Bill and I never worked together but he’s as much of an influence as anyone else,” says Currence, who attended UNC in the early 1980s. “We’ve always been very good friends. He was one of the few people who used to come see our awful-as-shit band play. He always showed up, which of course endeared him to me to no end.”

It’s a different Bill—Crook’s original chef, Bill Neal—who looms large in the book. While in college, Currence worked in the small kitchen alongside Neal, who is often credited with sparking national interest in authentic Southern cuisine. Neal died in 1991 at age 41, just six years after his Southern Cooking was published by UNC Press and his food was celebrated in The New York Times by Craig Claiborne.

Neal also was known for his irascibility. In the summer of 2003, Times writer R.W. Apple shared an anecdote about his legendary temper in a story about a gala dinner celebrating the late chef’s legacy at the James Beard House in New York.

“Bill loved to create tension, probably to push us,” Robert Sehling, a former Crook’s cook who is chef/owner at Charleston’s Hominy Grill, told Apple. “It got wild sometimes. I've seen people hurl coffee mugs at him.”

One of those people was John Currence.

“I really do hate the fact, more than just about anything, that the last time I saw him it was very unpleasant,” Currence says. “It was an ugly and unnecessary argument.”

The dispute had been simmering for days. Currence had been unexpectedly tasked with turning two large bags of acorn squash into soup that would be a featured dish. The story is referenced in the introduction to the recipe for Roasted Acorn Squash Bisque. What the anecdote omits is that Neal responded to the young cook’s call for feedback with fury.

“It was my first special and I wanted it to be profound and exceptional,” Currence recalls. “I thought it was something I’d be proud to serve, but it was missing something. I called Bill at home and asked what he would pair with it. There was this pause and all of a sudden this barrage of expletives—a tirade like I’d never heard.”

Currence, who casually drops expletives into his own conversation (his Twitter handle is @BigBadChef), managed to hold his tongue. The next day he arrived before his shift to clear the air, but Neal was in a dark mood because someone left a dog’s water bowl outside of the restaurant. “As soon as I walked in, he started screaming at me again,” he recalls. “I threw a full cup of coffee at him and walked out.”

Despite this dispute, Neal is acknowledged as a primary mentor in Pickles, Pigs & Whiskey. It may not be as evident to readers outside of the Triangle, but he is cited more times than any other chef for his lasting influence.

“Bill does still play a role in my thought process,” says Currence. “It’s hard to be in a kitchen and not be reminded of him.”

Many North Carolina references are in the book, including a nod to former Magnolia Grill Chef Ben Barker, “the big brother I never had,” in the recipe for homemade Worchester sauce. In the notes to his Pimento Cheese Fritters, he declares that Chef Ashley Christensen’s pimento cheese is “transcendent.”

Christensen, who is working on her own debut cookbook, has high praise for Pickles, Pigs & Whiskey.

“It’s a yearbook of sorts, chronicling a life of honesty, hard work and joy in the kitchen,” she says. “John is respectful of tradition, yet still inviting to evolution and innovation at the stoves. His food belongs to him, and to all of the people and personalities—from cooks, to critics, to guests—who have been a part of shaping it.

“Even if John wasn’t one of my closest friends, I’d feel like I’d known him all of my life after reading this book,” she adds. “That’s pretty special.”

---

Cooks & Books: Pickles, Pigs & Whiskey Reception
The Garden Terrace at Fearrington Village, Pittsboro
Sunday, Nov. 24, 3 p.m.
Reception including food, autographed book, tax and gratuity: $85
Reservations: 919-542-3030

‘Snacks with Snack’: Reception hosted by Ashley Christensen
Joule Coffee, 223 S. Wilmington St., Raleigh
Monday, Nov. 25, 5:30 p.m.
Reception including food and cocktail punches from Pickles, Pigs & Whiskey;
copies of the book will be available for sale: $35
Reservations: 919-424-7442

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."

Summer vegetable tart

I have a beautiful rainbow assortment of vegetables this week. Inspired by a photo of a vegetable pudding posted by Bill Smith, who said he used a less-sweet clafouti batter, I decided to give it a shot. There is nothing quite like it in his wonderful Seasoned in the South cookbook, so I consulted with Patricia Wells, who features a Tomato Clafoutis in her At Home in Provence book.

Since I had no cream, I used a little extra low-fat milk. I also used one more whole egg than she suggests because, well, one slipped free when I cracked it with more gusto than intended. While Bill Smith steamed his vegetables first, I kept mine raw. The result was a tender, creamy custard with vegetables that maintained a light crispness and sunny freshness.

Summer Vegetable Tart
1 yellow zucchini
1 green zucchini
1 large tomato
2 purple spring onions
4-5 sprigs thyme
1/2 cup pecorino romano, freshly grated
4 whole eggs
1 egg yolk
1/2 cup low-fat milk
1/4 tsp. kosher salt
several grinds of black pepper
1 ready pie crust

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Bring pie crust to room temperature and roll lightly to increase circle by about an inch. Transfer to tart pan with removable bottom that has been lightly sprayed with oil. Cover with parchment and pie weights - I use a mix of beans and rice - and bake about 20 minutes.

Remove to rack. After about 5 minutes, remove parchment with pie weights and cool crust.

Using a food processor fitted with a 1/4-inch slicing disk, place tomato in feed tube and slice with light pressure. Transfer slices to a paper towel lined plate; lightly press another sheet of paper towel to surface. Set aside.

Place tart pan atop sheet pan covered with foil. Slice yellow and green zucchini separately. Arrange yellow slices in a concentric overlapping ring atop crust; follow with tomato slices. Strip leaves from thyme sprigs and sprinkle over tomatoes, then top evenly with half the cheese. Next, arrange green zucchini in a ring and top with scattering of onion.

Place four whole eggs and one yolk in a small mixing bowl with milk, salt and pepper. Beat well then pour over vegetables in tart shell. Press vegetables lightly to ensure egg mixture is well distributed. Top with remaining cheese.

Bake about 25-30 minutes or until lightly set. Transfer to rack to cool, lifting base from tart ring after 15 minutes. Serve at room temperature.

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.

Share your kitchen strength to end childhood hunger

Long before some of the most influential members of Culinary Historians of Piedmont North Carolina got books deals, they developed their craft making things to contribute to bake sales.

CHOP NC Founder Nancie McDermott

“I love and adore bake sales,” said CHOP NC Founder Nancie McDermott, author of two baking bibles, Southern Pies and Southern Cakes, both published by Chronicle Books. “They're like lemonade stands, only more substantial, and they speak of people happy to be baking, to be sharing, to be eating, and usually to be raising money for something dear to them.”

Events supporting the national Share Our Strength Great American Bake Sale are being held across the country to raise awareness of and end childhood hunger in our nation. Several events are registered for our area, and CHOP NC would like to help you get involved by sharing recipes that can be used for this or future bake sales. In addition to CHOP NC members and distinguished friends, like Virginia Willis, we even persuaded Executive Chef David Gaydeski to share the secrets of the chocolate chip cookies served to visitors at the North Carolina Executive Mansion.

"Bakes sales may seem silly but it shows you the power of people doing a little thing,” said Sheri Castle, author of The New Southern Garden Cookbook (UNC Press) and a recent winner of an International Association of Culinary Professionals award for foodwriting."You make a little something, sell the slice for more than it's worth, and it all adds up. It's a great premise and a worthy cause."

The recipes that follow cover a wide spectrum of regional flavors, from Atlanta-based Willis’ Shortbread Buttons to Sandra Gutierrez’s Chile-Chocolate Brownies, and Elizabeth Wiegand’s coastal Ocracoke Fig Cake to McDermott’s Shenandoah Valley Blueberry Cake.

“I for one am always on the prowl for something a little more edgy: the chipless cookie, the lemon bar made with lime, the gingerbread or even savory item,” McDermott said. “Here’s to chipping in for a worthy cause, coming home with an unexpected goodie for your dear ones, and most of all, to the baking folk amongst us, who make the wheels of the bake-sale bonanza go round and round in the direction of good things for all.”

Blueberry and Pecan Snack Cake
@ 2011 Sheri Castle from The New Southern Garden Cookbook: Recipes for Enjoying the Best from Homegrown Gardens, Farmers' Markets, Roadside Stands and CSA Farm Boxes. Used by permission of The University of North Carolina Press.

This is as a welcome change from a muffin, but just as handy for breakfast, snacks, and lunchboxes. If you nibble on it all through the day, just a sliver at a time, just a wee slice to even up the edge, you can pretend to be startled that evening when the pan is, somehow, empty.

Sheri Castle

Makes 8 servings

Vegetable oil spray

1 cup all-purpose flour

3 tablespoons stone-ground cornmeal

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 cup granulated sugar

2 large eggs

1/3 cup whole or low-fat milk

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Finely grated zest of 1 lemon

2 cups fresh blueberries

2 tablespoons coarse sanding sugar, raw sugar, or more regular sugar

1 cup chopped pecans

Preheat the oven to 350ºF. Mist the inside of a 9-inch square light metal baking pan with the spray. (A dark metal or nonstick pan makes the crust very thick and dark.)

Whisk together the flour, cornmeal, baking powder and salt in a small bowl. In a large bowl, beat together the butter and granulated sugar until light and fluffy with an electric mixer set to high speed. Scrape down the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in the milk, vanilla, and lemon zest. Use the rubber spatula to gently fold in the berries.

Scrape the batter in the prepared baking pan and smooth the top. Sprinkle the sanding sugar over the batter, followed by the pecans.

Bake until a tester inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean, about 40 minutes. Place on a wire rack to cool for at least 15 minutes before serving warm or at room temperature. The cooler the cake, the more neatly it will cut.

What else works? You can replace some or all of the blueberries with finely diced peaches.

CHILE-CHOCOLATE BROWNIES
@ 2011 by Sandra Guitierrez from The New Southern-Latino Table: Recipes that Bring Together the Bold and Beloved Flavors of Latin America and the American South. Used by permission of the University of North Carolina Press.

Sandra Gutierrez

These decadent bars have a rich, moist, and dense texture. The luxurious taste of chocolate will meet your taste buds and the sweetness will seduce your senses. Then slowly the slight heat of chiles will spread across your tongue and surprise you with a tingling sensation. The combination of chocolate and chiles gives the well-known mole poblano of Mexico and the mole de plátano of Guatemala their distinctive flavor. And here, fruity ancho chiles are a perfect match for rich, dark chocolate. The meaty pecans lend an unmistakable Southern touch. These are “grown-up” goodies. Make a batch without chiles for the kids.

Makes 20 brownies

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter

6 ounces unsweetened chocolate

2 cups sugar

4 eggs, at room temperature

1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla

3/4 cup all-purpose flour

1 1/4 teaspoons ancho chile powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 cup chopped and toasted pecans (optional)

For the glaze:

1/4 cup confectioners' sugar, sifted

2 tablespoon cocoa powder

2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

1 tablespoon coffee-flavored liqueur

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

1/4 teaspoon chipotle chile powder

Chile-Chocolate Brownies

Preheat the oven to 325°F. Butter a 9x9x2-inch baking pan. Place the butter and chocolate in the top of a double boiler and heat over low heat, stirring occasionally, until they have melted and are well combined. Lift the bowl carefully from the pan so no water droplets come into contact with the chocolate mixture; let cool for 5 minutes and transfer to a large bowl.

Stir in the sugar; add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition; stir in the vanilla. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, ancho chile powder, and salt; gradually add the dry ingredients to the chocolate mixture, beating well until fully combined. Add the pecans. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for 30-35 minutes, or until the center is set and the brownies begin to pull back from the sides of the pan. Cool brownies for 1 hour in the pan.

To make the glaze: in a medium bowl, combine the confectioners' sugar, cocoa powder, butter, liqueur, vanilla, and chile powder; blend until smooth. Place the glaze in a pastry bag (or zip-top bag with a snipped corner), and drizzle back and forth over the brownies. Cut them into 20 bars.

ALMOND TORTE

@ Bill Smith, Crook’s Corner. Used by permission of Bill Smith.

Bill Smith at Crook's Corner (Photo: Soleil Konkle)

Butter, flour and parchment paper to prepare a springform pan

3/4 lb. sliced blanched almonds

1 1/2 cups sugar, divided

zest of one orange

splash of vinegar

pinch of salt

1 cup (about 8) egg whites

1/4 tsp. cream of tartar

Scant half cup of all purpose flour

Preheat oven to 375 degrees

Butter the springform pan, line with the parchment, butter the parchment and dust with flour. Coarsely grind the almonds with the orange rind and half of the sugar.

Rinse a mixing bowl with the vinegar and salt. Dump out over the sink. Beat the egg whites in the bowl with the cream of tartar until stiff and glossy. Quickly fold the egg whites into the nuts by thirds. Include the flour in the last fold.

Turn batter into the cake pan and bake for about an hour, until the center is firm and the cake has begun to pull away from the pan. Let the cake cool for about 20 minutes before releasing the springform. Good hot or cold with fruit or fresh whipped cream.

Shenandoah Valley Blueberry Cake 

@ 2011 Nancie McDermott from Southern Cakes: Sweet and Irresistible Recipes for Everyday Celebrations (Chronicle Books, 2007).

Enjoy this simple, delicious cake for breakfast, a tea party, or a midnight snack. If you can’t pick your own blueberries in the Shenandoah Valley, don’t worry. The cake comes out just fine using fresh blueberries from wherever you are, or even frozen berries from the grocery store.

Makes 1 cake (8- or 9-inch layer, square or round)

1 2/3 cups all-purpose flour

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/3 cup butter, softened

3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar

1 egg

1/3 cup milk

1 cup fresh or frozen blueberries (do not thaw)

Heat the oven to 375 F, and generously grease a 9-inch square or round pan.

Combine the flour, baking powder, and salt in a small bowl, and stir with a fork to mix well. In a medium bowl, combine the butter and sugar, and beat with a mixer at high speed until well combined. Add the egg and beat well for 1 to 2 minutes, stopping to scrape down the bowl, until the mixture is smooth and light.

Stir in half the flour mixture, and then half the milk, mixing just enough to keep the batter fairly smooth and well combined. Add the remaining flour, and then the milk, mixing gently. Stir in the blueberries.

Scrape the batter into the prepared pan, and bake at 375 F for 30 to 35 minutes, or until the cake is golden, springs back when touched gently in the center, and is pulling away from the sides of the pan.

Serve the cake right from the pan, warm or at room temperature, cut into squares. Or if you made a round cake layer, cool it in the pan on a wire rack or folded kitchen towel for 10-20 minutes, loosen it around the edges, and then turn it out to finish cooling on a wire rack, top side up.    

Mansion Chocolate Chip Cookies
@ David Gaydeski, Executive Chef, with permission of the North Carolina Executive Mansion.

Assortment of cookies served at the Executive Mansion.

Cookies conjure up childhood for me – the wonderful smell of the local bakery where I grew up, setting them out for Santa on Christmas Eve, or bake sales at school. As a chef, they offer unlimited possibilities. A basic dough can be transformed by minor adjustments in proportions or the addition any number of ingredients.

Cookies have been a fixture at the Executive Mansion going back decades. I know the recipes have changed over time, but there’s something uniquely comforting about being in such a beautiful, formal place and biting into a taste of childhood.

Makes 3 dozen

North Carolina Executive Mansion

1 cup (2 sticks) melted butter

2 cups brown sugar

½ cup white sugar

1 whole egg

1 egg yolk

2 tablespoons heavy cream

2¼ cups bread flour*

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking soda
2 cups chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 400 F. Cream butter, brown and white sugars together in a large bowl. Mix egg, yolk and cream in a small bowl and add to sugar mixture. Sift the flour, salt and baking soda together and blend in. Gently stir in chocolate chips.

Drop by golf-ball sized rounds onto either a greased or parchment paper lined cookie sheet. Bake for 7-8 minutes or until edges start to brown.

*Bread flour makes for a chewier cookie

Shortbread BUTTONS 

@ 2011 Virginia Willis and reprinted with her permission. For more information or about Virginia, please visit www.virginiawillis.com

Virginia Willis

These are delicious and incredible. The recipe basically contains just enough flour to hold the butter together. These cookies are perfect along with ice cream or a cup of tea. And, since they are so very indulgent, it’s good to know they freeze exceptionally well in an airtight container.

Makes about 3 dozen

2 cups all purpose flour


1⁄2 teaspoon fine sea salt


1⁄4 teaspoon baking powder


1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature


1⁄2 cup confectioners’ sugar, more for flattening the cookies


1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Willis' Shortbread Buttons

Heat the oven to 350 F. Line 2 cookie sheets with parchment paper or nonstick silicone baking sheets. Set aside. Sift together the flour, salt, and baking powder. Set aside. In the bowl of a mixer using the paddle attachment, cream the butter and sugar on high speed until light and fluffy, about 1 minute. Add the flour mixture and vanilla; beat until just combined.

Using a small ice cream scoop, portion the cookies about 2-inches apart on the prepared sheet pans. Dip a smooth glass in confectioners’ sugar. Press to flatten to about 1/4-inch thick. Using a wooden skewer, make 4 holes in the center of a cookie so that it resembles a button.

Transfer the cookie sheets to the refrigerator and chill until firm, about 30 minutes. Bake until the cookies are pale golden brown, about 15 minutes. Let cookies cool slightly on the cookie sheet then transfer to a rack to cool completely.  Store in an airtight container up to 7 days.

OCRACOKE FIG CAKE
@ Elizabeth Wiegand from THE OUTER BANKS COOKBOOK:  Recipes & Traditions from NC’s Barrier Islands (Globe Pequot Press, 2008).

Elizabeth Wiegand is working
on a revised edition of
The Outer Banks Cookbook.

Figs grow profusely in Ocracoke village, perhaps due to the moist, salty air.  Residents tend to place oyster shells around the base of their trees, or add a fish to the soil around them.  Although figs were grown on most Southern homesteads, they are not native to the New World but rather to Asia Minor.  They probably migrated with the Spanish via the West Indies, but perhaps it was a pirate, like Blackbeard, who frequented the port of Ocracoke and left this treasure.

The ladies of Ocracoke are known for their fig cakes, using the preserves they “put up” from all the figs that ripen during the summer.  Some use a cream cheese frosting between layers, others make a tube cake. 

Dale Mutro’s grandmother, Mrs. Ollie Styron Mutro, taught him how to make this version, which uses twice as much fig preserves as the standard Ocracoke recipe.  Dale claims this one is so moist it needs no frosting.   

Serves 10 to 12

Ocracoke Fig Cake

2 cups flour

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1 teaspoon nutmeg

1 teaspoon allspice

1 teaspoon salt

3 eggs

1 cup vegetable oil

1 cup sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 teaspoon baking soda dissolved in 2 teaspoons hot water

1 cup buttermilk

1 cup nuts, preferably pecans
1 pint (2 cups) fig preserves

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Grease a 10-inch tube pan. 

In a small bowl, sift together the flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice and salt.  Set aside.

In a large mixing bowl, beat the eggs. Add the sugar and oil. 

Alternately add the dry ingredients with the buttermilk.  Add vanilla, then soda dissolved in hot water.

Gently stir in nuts and fig preserves. 

Pour in prepared pan, and bake for one hour or until toothpick comes out clean.