New Option for "I Do"

As COVID-19 continues to make large gatherings unadvisable, big concerts are on hold, some sporting events have been postponed or completely canceled, and celebrations of marriage have fared no better. A crowd of family and friends — witnessing vows with bated breath, smiling at the first kiss, and drinking, dancing and eating the afternoon or evening away —  is a key aspect of most dream weddings. But having a long guest list is, for now at least, just not possible in many cases. For couples ready to take the plunge and exchange “I dos” sooner rather than later, the renowned Old Edwards Inn & Spa in Highlands, North Carolina, is offering a tantalizing solution: elopement.

With its elopement packages, the Old Edward Hospitality team invites couples to “pledge their love now and gather for the big celebration later.” The packages allow bride and groom to get married amid the striking scenery of the surrounding Blue Ridge mountains and share their special day with and handful of guests, maximizing nuptial bliss while minimizing risk. Multiple venue and accommodation options and varying package elements and add-ons make it easy to create a customized experience full of thoughtful details that’s both intimate and unique.

The packages’ location options are diverse. Choose from the rustic elegance and mountain chic of Old Edwards’ barn. Have a quaint ceremony amid the glow of flickering flames in front of the outdoor stone fireplace at the Falls Cottages. Other alfresco offerings include the grassy lawn of the Trillium Terrace, the verdant expanse (that’s one of the town’s highest spots) of The Croquet Lawn or, perched above it all, the charming Rooftop Terrace (bonus: it’s covered!).

Old Edwards’ lovely estates provide more private moments. One of Highlands’ oldest homes, Hutchinson House, brings history and charm to any event but makes a wedding truly enchanting. Equally magical, the Victorian Piermont Cottage adds its lush landscaping to the mix.

The icing on this wedding cake is the stellar service always delivered by the Old Edwards Hospitality team. In addition to luxe, award-winning accommodations and amenities, plus fabulous farm-fresh food, Old Edwards is hailed by national press and countless guests alike for its warm, welcoming and exacting approach to meeting needs and exceeding expectations. Reach out today to learn more about all of the elopement packages and get answers to any questions. 

Merry Cookie to All ...

And to all a good bite!

Something about the holidays brings out the kid in all of us. There’s an instant magic in the air. It’s most potent in the smiles of children when talk of the big man in red starts up. When I was little, my family went to great lengths to keep my brother and me believing Santa was real for as long as possible. One year, my dad snuck outside on Christmas Eve and rang some sleigh bells before getting up on the roof and stomping around. My mother never had an easier time getting us off to bed. Another year, when we sprinted into the den at daybreak to see what loot had been left for us, we found sooty boot prints marking Santa’s path from the chimney to the tree and then back again. I was old enough to have begun questioning the whole “from the North Pole and around the world in one night” idea, but that “evidence” kept me going just a bit longer.

But you don’t have to believe in Santa to revel in this season’s childlike joy that so easily transforms into enchantment. Just look around. It’s still there. It floats along on every note of holiday music, hangs off the branches of evergreens and twinkles coyly behind the sparkle of a thousand brightly colored lights.

Despite the stress that’s induced by our long to-do lists (that somehow only grow longer this time of year) trying its best to replace merry moments with instances of bah humbug, I find the wonder again each holiday when I pull out my stand mixer and the ingredients to make Candy Cane cookies.

I’ve done it every year for as long as I can remember, beginning this baking ritual with my mom when I couldn’t even reach the kitchen counter without a stool. Every time I start it again, I can see her dog-eared cookbook sitting to the side of her mixer and her squinting to read the directions obscured by a thin dusting of flour. I recall my impatience as I quickly moved through my duties — measuring sugar, crushing peppermint candies with a rolling pin, getting the baking sheets down — so we could get to the really good part, “sampling” the dough clinging to beaters and the bowl, and then, the very best part, eating the finished product.

Baking Christmas cookies with your kids — not for them — is a tradition they’ll cherish long into adulthood. And these Candy Cane cookies are easy and so good. I’ve modified the original recipe (a Southern Living standard) to make them somewhat easier and, I think, even tastier. So slow down a bit this year and spend some time with the little ones whipping up memories and making your own magic.

Candy Cane Cookies

Makes about 3 dozen cookies

• ½ cup butter, softened

• ½ cup shortening

• 1 cup confectioners sugar

• 1 egg

• ½ teaspoon almond extract

• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

• 2 ½ cups all-purpose flour

• 1 teaspoon salt

• red food coloring

• crushed peppermint candy (about 1 cup at least)

• 12 ounces of white chocolate

Using an electric mixer, combine the butter, shortening, sugar, egg and extracts. Add the flour and salt slowly and mix until incorporated. Add the red food coloring. It will take more than a few drops to get it to a dark pink/almost red, but don’t try to make it dark red (unless you have some super-duper fancy concentrated food coloring, and if you do, let me know about it!!). To do so will take too much food coloring, and that much liquid could alter the texture of the dough.

Roll the dough out on a lightly floured surface, and use a candy cane cookie cutter to cut out cookies. Place them on a sheet pan and bake about 8 to 9 minutes in a 375 degree oven.

In the meantime, place peppermint candies (I usually use starlight mints or the mini candy canes) in a ziplock bag, and then place that bag in a second ziplock bag. Use a rolling pin or other heavy object to break the candy into small pieces. Put the pieces on a plate.

Once the cookies are done, move them from the pan to a rack to cool.

While the cookies cool down, break up the chocolate bars and melt slowly in a double boiler. Once melted, remove the pot from the heat and carefully dip the bottom part of the staff portion of each cookie into the melted chocolate; let most of the excess drip off, and be careful not to break the cookies when doing this. Next, hold each cookie and gently sprinkle pieces of crushed peppermint onto the now chocolate-covered part of each cookie. Place on a sheet of wax paper to harden. You can put them in the fridge to speed this process up. Once the chocolate is set, store them in an airtight container until they’re gone. (It won’t take long!)

Note: Since it can be easy to break the cookies when dipping them into the chocolate, you may want to do this part yourself and let the kiddos concentrate on helping you measure ingredients, cutting out the cookies and sprinkling the peppermint on while you hold the cookies. They won’t all be perfect looking, and that’s okay! They’ll still be yummy.

Better-Than-Before Green Bean Casserole

I'm a little obsessed with side dishes. Many is the time I've been so enraptured by the crisped cool perfection of a pepper-flecked cole slaw or the light-as-air crust enrobing circles of sweet onion that I've barely noticed the "main dish."  And there are a few favorite sides I could eat alone as my entire meal. This green bean casserole is one. It's not the version you're probably familiar with. It takes  bit more time (but not much) than opening cans (although I sometimes use canned green beans).

And even though it's built on a foundation of bacon and  coated with cream, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say it's no worse for you and maybe even healthier than the other one  since there are no processed ingredients or fried onions on top. "No fried onions!" I hear you screaming. Wait. It's okay. They've been replaced with crispy shallots, which are pan-fried, but not battered.

So the next time you're craving that classic green bean casserole — which could be soon since, Thanksgiving! — take a little extra time and try this one instead.

Better-Than-Before Green Bean Casserole

• 1 /2 cup shallots, chopped

• 2 cans French-cut green beans, drained (or the equivalent frozen or fresh beans)

• 1/2 tablespoon olive oil

• 4 slices bacon, chopped

• 1 cup cream

• 3/4 cup mushrooms, chopped

In a large, oven-proof skillet, heat the oil and then add the bacon and cook on medium-high heat until crisp around the edges. Add the shallots and cook until soft. Add the mushrooms and cook until soft, about 2 to 3 minutes. Add the cream and bring to a low boil. Cook for 5 minutes or until slightly thickened. Add salt and pepper to taste. Add the green beans and stir to mix. Put the skillet in a 350-degree oven for about 25 minutes. Top with crispy shallots (see method below).

You can also used frozen or even fresh green beans, and bake it in all in a casserole dish (if you're taking it to a supper club or delivering dinner to a friend). For this method, thaw frozen green beans and blanch in boiling water for 2 to 3  minutes. If using fresh beans, blanch in boiling water for 3 to 5 minutes, depending on how soft you want them to be. Drain and place in a casserole dish. Make the cream sauce in a skillet using the above instructions, and once the cream thickens a bit, pour it over the green beans and stir to combine. Place the dish in a 350-degree oven for about 25 minutes. Top with crispy shallots.

CRISPY SHALLOTS

• 3 to 4 large shallots, sliced into thin rings

• 1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil or vegetable oil

In a large skillet, heat the oil on medium-low heat and add the shallots, spreading them out into one layer in the pan. Cook them slowly over medium-low heat and stir often. Do not be tempted to turn up the heat. The shallots will burn before you know it! Once they are golden brown, place them on a paper-towel-lined plate to drain and sprinkle them with salt.  

Cookin' Up Connections & Chocolate Pie

I was around 8 when I first joined my grandmother (we called her Munnie) in her kitchen to “help” her cook for the first time. We were making haystacks, caramel and coconut confections that when done, look just like mini versions of their namesakes. I set to carefully measuring Karo syrup, mesmerized by the clear ribbons folding into a neat stack before melting together in her worn Pyrex cup. Munnie handled all the stove work, sparing my little hands and forearms from the popping-hot caramel-in-process. It was just one of many times I’d stand alongside her, chopping, stirring and testing her ability to carry out the precise tasks some of her recipes required while simultaneously giving whatever I was non-stop talking about her utmost attention. In her humble kitchen in Mississippi, my grandmother and I bonded over a shared love of food and feeding others.

It is why my most treasured family heirlooms are not jewelry or fine china, but the recipe cards covered in Munnie’s scrawling script that passed her culinary secrets down to me. Following her simply conveyed instructions reminds me of her simple sweetness, and even though she’s been gone 20 years, I feel re-connected to her each time I use them.

My husband Scott had the good fortune of getting to know Munnie just a few years before she died, and he came to love her — and her chocolate pie. On a visit home not long after Munnie passed, my mother used her copy of her mother’s recipe and made the chocolate pie for Scott. While he’s never rude, Scott doesn’t sugar-coat things, so when mom asked him how the pie tasted, he told her it was good, but it just didn’t taste like Munnie’s. Mom’s feelings weren’t hurt. (My husband has the annoying ability to be brutally honest and yet charming at the same time.) And we all agreed with his blunt assessment. 

Then Scott suggested that maybe Munnie had intentionally left an ingredient off of that little blue-lined recipe card mom worked from. Maybe, he surmised, she didn’t want anyone to be able to make a pie as delicious as hers. I was aghast. My mother, shocked. We both rushed to Munnie’s defense. No. Out of the question. Munnie was never prideful or vain. (One look at her no-nonsense approach to fashion and make-up revealed that.)

Yet for years, the question lingered. Could Munnie have left something off that card on purpose? My faith was further shaken when I attempted to make haystacks. I tried three times, and followed that particular recipe card exactly, yet not a one of my haystacks set up as they should’ve. I chalked my failure up to a cheap candy thermometer and pushed it out of my mind. 

A few years ago, my mother decided to make Munnie’s chocolate pie for my aunt Sandra on one of her visits. As mama dug through the hundreds of dog-eared, faded cards in her recipe box, she found, buried between caramel icing and teacakes, a second chocolate pie recipe in Munnie’s handwriting. She plucked it out, gave it a try, and voila! The result was the velvety smooth chocolate perfection we all remembered; Munnie's saint status was reconfirmed.

For many of us, food forges connections that transcend time and space. My college roommate Rebecca and I re-connected with a recipe for my mom’s holiday bird’s nest cookies. She made them with mom and me once, and a few Decembers ago, called me up to get the recipe so she could make them with her little girls at her new home in Seattle. As I dictated the ingredients and method over the phone, I pictured her writing it all down on a card that one day, she'll hand down to her daughters. My mom’s recipe made a journey to the other side of the country and helped strengthen the connection between a young mother and her children. 

We are all connected in multiple ways now. We email. We text. We chronicle every passing thought on social media, and “like” or better yet, comment on, the daily minutia reported by our hundreds of “friends.” But these relations are only a shade of true connections. As much as I enjoy and make use of all of the above, I believe our most basic needs connect us in the deepest ways. By handing down recipes, we are reaching out to future generations, handing them a heaping helping of ourselves and of the heritage that has shaped who we are. 

So holding onto that 3 x 5 index card with your memaw’s or your great uncle’s recipe for cornbread or camp stew is every bit as weighty an act as you think it is. Never stop loving, protecting and sharing the things that represent family and home to you, even if those things are nothing more than the instructions for baking the best biscuits in Alabama or making a sinfully rich chocolate pie.

P.S. If all of your recipes are currently stored on pintrest or in some other digital form, grab a pack of index cards and write at least a few of them down. When you're long gone, your kids and grandkids will enjoy making family favorites from recipes in your handwriting. To avoid having your character questioned, remember to include everything and note any modifications you make. Or, if you relish the idea of going down in history as the only one who could make "whatever" just right, then don't!

Oh and about that pie...

Munnie's Chocolate Pie (the real one)

• 1 cup sugar

• 1/3 cup flour

• 1/3 cup cocoa powder

• 2 cups whole milk

• 3 beaten eggs

• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

• 1 tablespoon butter

Place the sugar, flour and cocoa in a medium sauce pan and add the milk. Whisk well to combine and then cook over medium heat until it just begins to thicken. Add several spoonfuls of the chocolate to the eggs and blend well. Add the eggs back to the saucepan and continue to cook, stirring frequently, until it it thickens to a pudding consistency.  Add vanilla and butter and stir to combine. Remove from heat. Pour into a pre-baked pie crust and allow to set up for about 20 minutes. Serve with whipped cream or ice cream.

Ode to Okra: Recollections & Recipes

I have a love-hate relationship with okra. I hate it in gumbo. I painstakingly pick around it. I don’t like okra stewed with tomatoes. I dislike it cooked down in any liquid because the method makes it mushy and brings out its slimy tendencies.

 But take it out of the stock pot, and I love any and all okra. I adore the short, fat ones; the odd ones curved into a lazy “C”; the long ones, straight as an arrow; the smooth ones; the beveled ones; the green ones; and the reddish-purple ones.

Like a lot of Southerners, I relish okra fried: thin star slices dusted in a whisper of gritty cornmeal, bathed in hot oil till golden and crisp and salted liberally while warm. I’ve discovered other ways I like it too; roasted okra is so simple and like frying, results in a crunchy texture. Another plus? You don’t have to stand over the hot stove to make it. I may hate boiled okra, but I HATE being hot. Here’s how I do it.

Easy Roasted Okra

Coat whole okras in olive oil. Lay them in single layer on a rimmed cookie sheet and salt generously. Place in a preheated 425-degree oven and cook for 20-25 minutes.

About half way through the cooking time, use tongs to turn each okra over for even roasting. They’re delicious just like this but get even better when served with tangy “comeback sauce” for dipping. (Southern Living's recipe for this Mississippi-born condiment is fabulous.)

Want extra oomph? Add some spice. I love Indian-influenced flavors with okra and recently roasted some dusted with Spicewalla’s Tandoori Masala. I’ll probably never make it any other way again.

Perfect Pickled Okra

A simple solution of vinegar, salt, sugar and spices elevates and preserves okra’s just-picked flavor. Alabama-based Wickles Pickles makes a wickedly spicy version, but you can make your own with minimal effort and just a bit of time. While pickling will heat up your kitchen like frying, you can do it just once, and then enjoy the rewards of your labor for months to come.

Step 1: Boil your canning jars with their lids and seals in a large pot of water. Carefully remove them and set aside on a dishtowel.

Step 2: Fill another large pot 2/3 of the way full with water and bring it to a simmer.

Step 3: Bring 4 cups of white vinegar, 4 cups of water, 1/2 cup of salt and 1/4 cup sugar to a boil and let cook for a few minutes.

Step 4: Jam as many fresh okra as you can into each sterilized jar along with one clove of garlic, some hot pepper slices and a few onion slices (optional). You can really add any spices you like. 

Step 5: Pour the hot pickling liquid into the jars, stopping about a 1/2 inch from the top of the jar.

Step 6: Wipe the jar tops clean if you spilled any liquid, then place the lids on your jars and turn until just tight. If you've got a canning rack, place the jars in the rack and set them into the second pot of hot water. If you don't have a rack, use tongs to very carefully set them down into the water. Add more water if needed to cover the tops of the jars by about an inch.

Step 7: Bring the water with the jars in it to a boil, and let it heat the jars for 10 to 15 minutes. Remove the pot from the heat and let the jars sit in the water for another 10 minutes to cool down some. Carefully remove the jars and let them sit, undisturbed for at least 12 hours.

Step 8: Test the seals on your finished pickled okra by pressing down on the center of each jar top. If there is any give (if it moves up and down), you'll need to re-process the jars. First take off the lids and look for any nicks in the rubber seal. If needed, use a new jar. Then, put the unsealed jars back into boiling water for 10-15 minutes, and let them rest again before a re-test. If there's no give in the lid on the first test, you're done! 

There’s no need to refrigerate (until you open them), and they’ll keep for about a year in your pantry until then. 

But it’s doubtful they’ll last that long. Employ their vinegary punch to jazz up a cheese plate. Or make some “Southern Sushi,” a perfect no-cook snack for fall’s football parties and tailgates. Spread a thin layer of cream cheese on top of deli ham slices and place a piece of pickled okra on one edge of each slice. Roll them up and slice crosswise. Skewer with a toothpick, and you’ve got an easy appetizer that looks almost as good as it tastes.

Hog Days of Summer 2019

Ribbons of smoke snake upward, wafting from steel-drum smokers lining the perimeter of the Union Station Train Shed in downtown Montgomery. Each wisp contains a billion scent molecules that quickly disseminate the savory smells of slow-cooking meat throughout the space, creating a siren-song affect with aroma that’s pretty hard to resist. Then the band starts up, overtaking friendly chatter and kids laughter, inviting your ears to join the party your nose and mouth already RSVP’d “yes” to. 

Last year’s Hog Days of Summer was a feast for the senses, and the 2019 event on Saturday, August 17 promises no less. Crews from barbecue joints including Moe’s Original Bar B Que, Full Moon, Dreamland and Jim ’N Nick’s plus special out-of-town guest James-Beard-Award-winning chef Ryan Prewitt of New Orleans will be cooking up all kinds of ‘cue as well as both customary and creative ‘cue sides.

There will be cold beer, including Alabama brews like Trim Tab, Red Clay Brewing and Railyard Brewing. Alabama’s own Clyde May’s whiskey will be flowing. Children will be bouncing (both in and out of bouncy houses). And the rockin’ folksy notes of Americana acts like Will Stewart and headliners, The North Mississippi Allstars, will be mingling with the afore-mentioned protein perfume in the air.

It’s tough to imagine why, if you like good food, good music and good company, you’d not be piggin’ out at Hog Days this year, but if you need more enticement, how about this? The event is not just for fun; it’s a fundraiser. Hosted by The Druids Charity Club (a group of Montgomery guys who formed a nonprofit to better their city), Hog Days of Summer raises money to benefit a larger nonprofit, Hogs for the Cause (this group has its own HUGE barbecue cook-off competition in New Orleans each year). Hogs for the Cause is focused on helping families who have been affected by pediatric brain cancer, raising funds to provide grants to these families and offset some of the staggering costs associated with their children’s treatment that many of them face.

Hogs for the Cause is based in New Orleans, but every cent raised at each year’s Hog Days of Summer event helps a family in the River Region. So to recap: It’s local guys using the South’s favorite claim to culinary fame to rally local folks around a local cause.  

Click here to get your tickets now. Or click here to find out how to volunteer.

See you there!

Refresh & Restore: Half-Mile Farm

As your car climbs up the curvy roads leading into Highlands, N.C., worries seem to wither away with every inch of elevation gained. This tiny town sits a few miles over the Georgia/North Carolina border, perched on a plateau at 4,100 feet that’s tucked neatly into the Nantahala National Forest portion of the Blue Ridge Mountains. While there are only a few thousand permanent residents in Highlands, come summer and fall, it swells with approximately 30,000 visitors, all beckoned by the afore-mentioned attitude-shifting altitude, the accompanying mountain scenery and abundant outdoor activities.

Another draw is Half-Mile Farm and the serenity and comfy, casual yet elegant accommodations found there. Sitting on the banks of Apple Lake, Half-Mile Farm is just minutes from the main part of town, but it’s surrounded by 14 acres of forested peace and quiet, allowing this upscale country inn — and the illusion of seclusion it provides — to charm guests since 2001.

The property offers you an idyllic scene immediately upon arrival. A winding drive leads to a white, 1880s farmhouse, its deep porch dotted with rocking chairs overlooking the reflections of pointy evergreens quivering on the mirror-surfaced lake. Park behind the house and walk across a natural-stone courtyard to enter the “lobby,” actually the entry hall of the house. Your footfall on the wide-planked wood floors will alert one of the innkeepers to your presence so they can begin to wow you with warm hospitality and show you where you’ll be staying.

If you’ve never been, consider booking your spot now. But even if you have (lucky you), you should check it out again. In 2015, it was purchased by Old Edwards Hospitality Group, the company that also owns the historic Old Edwards Inn and Spa that fronts Main Street (and that consistently racks up awards and accolades from national travel media). While a few alterations and refurbishments were made when the OE folks first purchased it (furnishings and fixtures a got a total freshen-up), the most recent additions and embellishments were just completed a few months ago.

Photo courtesy of Half-Mile Farm.

One of the new additions is J. Henry Tavern. Right off the farmhouse’s entry hall, this cozy spot begs you to belly up to its copper-topped bar and nibble on tasty bar bites while sipping on expertly prepared cocktails (try the sweet and ginger-spiced Honeycomb).

Another new space of note is the dining room. With three of its walls made of floor-to-ceiling windows, enjoying the two-course gourmet breakfast (included in your room rate) here is like eating in a treehouse. When weather permits, the “glass walls” all slide open, further enhancing the enchanting effect.

The Rooms

Half-Mile Farm offers more room options than many properties its size. Upstairs in the original farmhouse, there are several historic rooms; more are in the two-story additions to the back of the house (that frame the courtyard) designed to look like natural extensions of the original structures. Every room at the property has a full, private bath and is individually decorated in a cozy, chic style with original art, lush linens and antique rugs in soft, neutral hues that fit the Appalachian setting. Some of the rooms have working fireplaces and balconies with views of the lake or into the surrounding woodlands. 

Woodland Suite bedroom. Photo courtesy of Half-Mile Farm.

Woodland Suites balcony. Photo courtesy of Half-Mile Farm.

Across an expansive yard, three cabins are also available and can be rented in their entirety, as a cabin suite (with a bedroom, the kitchen and living area) or as single cabin rooms.The rustic structures have modern amenities (central heat and air, equipped kitchens, good water pressure) yet with rough-hewn log walls and exposed timber ceilings, they look old and authentic. And that’s because they are. They were built using the materials (walls, floors, doors) from several different mid-1800s mountain cabins that were taken apart and re-assembled onsite at Half-Mile Farm. 

Cabin bedroom. Photo courtesy of Half-Mile Farm.

The Extras Make the Experience

It’s often the little things that set a stay apart, and that’s the case at Half-Mile Farm. Things like staff who make you feel like family without being overbearing (and who welcome you with a glass of champagne at check-in). Or fresh-baked cookies and chilled bottled water available to grab and go all day.

Or the afore-mentioned breakfast prepared by the inn’s Chef Jason Tardo that greets you every morning (at your leisure between 8 and 10 a.m.). Expect delights like fluffy and cheesy soufflé followed by a decadent bread pudding with fresh berries and maple sausages.

Add Chef Jason’s hors ‘d oeuvres (selections like grapes enrobed in soft, tangy goat cheese before being rolled in chopped pecans or cherry tomatoes stuffed with herbaceous housemade boursin) served in the airy dining room warmed by the stacked stone fireplace each evening, and you get why Half-Mile Farm boasts a bevy of return guests.  

Photo courtesy of Half-Mile Farm.

While Half-Mile Farm is a great base camp for exploring the area and its multitude of adventure options (including the use of Old Edwards amenities like its golf course and the fitness center at Old Edwards Inn), you may find yourself so relaxed, you don’t want to do much more than float around in a canoe on the little lake or sit on the porch, soak up some fresh mountain air and disappear into a good book.

New Fave New Orleans Restaurants

In the last five years, I’ve made multiple trips to New Orleans, and I’ve never had a bad meal there yet. I could write a really, really long post about all of the wonderful restaurants I’ve eaten at in the Crescent City. Maybe I will revisit some of them in a later post, but for now, I just wanted to share my new NOLA faves from a recent trip.

Before I dive into that list, there’s a special New Orleans dining experience that I must mention any time I’m talking about food in New Orleans. Mosquito Supper Club has been running for a few years, and I had the pleasure of an evening there in 2017. It is and will probably remain in my “top 5” favorite culinary and cultural experiences list, not for NOLA but for anywhere and everywhere I’ve ever been. Learn more about it in this article I wrote for The Local Palate.

Now the new darlings:

The Elysian Bar

Housed in the new Hotel Peter & Paul in New Orleans’ Marginy neighborhood, The Elysian Bar has a cozy nook for cocktails and other libations in back but is so much more than a watering hole. It’s a coffee shop and a restaurant too. And it’s all housed in the rectory of an 1860s-founded and decade-shuttered Catholic church and school. (The rest of the hotel takes up the school, convent and sanctuary; read more about it in my article for the July/August issue of The Local Palate.)

The multi-purpose space is inviting and engaging with its plush, fabric-festooned parlor, a sun-drenched, plant-draped garden room and an amber-washed bar area. Décor and atmosphere are important, but it’s the food and drink that really make this spot a standout. During daily aperitivo happy hour, effervescent delights like the classic Aperol spritz and woodsy, herbal tonics put the refresh in refreshment.

And when hunger strikes, chef Alex Harrell and his team are in the kitchen showing off massive skills, creating sharable plates born from a blend of Mediterranean and Southern influences. Offerings like roasted Gulf shrimp accented with chili butter and zingy preserved lemon and the confit chicken leg with briny olives, white beans stewed to submission and salsa verde’s tart-heat both easily earn “must-order” status.

Piece of Meat

Plump links and fat hunks of all manner of cured meats and sausages hanging in a glass walk-in case greet you at this butcher shop-sandwich stop on a shady stretch of Bienville Street in NOLA’s Mid City area. This carnivore’s carnival is packed with fresh and cured meats that make use of entire animals, nose to tail. Think duck confit, mortadella, ribeyes, tasso, headcheese, smoked chickens, smoked hocks and of course, boudin.

And that’s the stuff you can take home. Do not pass up the opportunity to enjoy a meal here. Go simple but sensational with the smoked brisket sammy: slow-smoked beef with pickled red onions and horseradish mayo to cut the richness. Or bombard your taste buds with flavor by opting for the hot pastrami with tender, thin-sliced, salty and pepper-punched meat, smothered in thousand island dressing and creamy cole slaw and piled on rye.

N7

With only a small, stencil-and-spray-paint “N7” adjacent a door in a tall, wooden privacy fence marking its entrance, N7 would be easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it. This hidden gem in the Bywater is off the beaten tourist path for sure, (although it has gained plenty of food-media acclaim), but what you find behind that wall of wood is worth a little searching.

A chic, bohemian French bistro is wrapped in an enchanted secret garden. So enchanting in fact, that I forgot to take pictures. But you need to go see this place for yourself anyway. Snag a seat inside or out; both spaces bask in a jewel-toned glow that ups the romantic charm factor. Sip on a glass of European natural wine (which means little or no added sulfites, natural yeasts and no pesticides) while waiting for your steamed mussels, escargot, mushroom tarte or steak au poivre. 

WaterMelon Mania

As those of us down South sweat through our region’s seasonal swelter, nothing is sweeter or more refreshing than a mouthful of chilled watermelon. Sticky juices running down upturned chins and slippery seeds propelled through puckered lips are quintessential summer sights. So why not slice into a watermelon and let it be the red in your “ red, white and blue” 4th of July menu?

On visits to my grandfather's farm, we'd squeal when he'd walk his garden and return, sticking his head in the house to tell us "watermelon outside." We were excited by the forthcoming treat, but equally on edge to see what color this watermelon would be. About 1 in 10 was as brilliantly orange as a late-afternoon sun inside instead of the traditional red. I don't remember them tasting any different, but because they were "rare," we treasured them more.

And watermelons don't just look and taste good. They’re good for you. A 10-ounce slice of watermelon has 13 milligrams of lycopene, a powerful antioxidant also found another of summer’s favorite fruits, tomatoes. The same portion has about 23 milligrams of vitamin C and 1,627 IUs of vitamin A. Plus, its sweet flavor can satisfy a sugar craving without the crazy calorie count. (A typical serving has about 86 calories.)

So grab some newspapers, a big, sharp knife (a salt shaker if you must) and head out to the patio to cut open one of this season’s sweetest gifts. Whether its in big chunks, picture-perfect wedges or cute little balls, watermelon is great on its own. But consider combining it with other ingredients to amp up its flavor. Try two of my fave, extremely easy watermelon recipes.

Watermelon & Feta Salad

No measurements or ingredients here. You can add as much or as little of each element as you like!

• lettuce of your choice (I like tender butter lettuce for this.)

• crumbled feta

• thinly sliced red onion or shallot

• pecans or walnuts, lightly toasted

• your favorite vineagrette (choose a lighter one so you don’t overpower the watermelon)

PHOTOS by the fabulous Nancy Fields of Big Dreamz Creative!

Watermelon Slushy

(serves 2)

• 3 cups watermelon cubes, seeded and frozen

• 1/3 cup water

• 2 tablespoons raw honey

• 1/2 teaspoon fresh mint

• juice of one lime

• 1 small banana (or 1/2 to 2/3 of a large banana)

Blend all in a blender, until smooth and frothy and serve immediately. Feel free to add a little vodka to give it a kick!

This article originally appeared in Lean magazine's 2014 summer issue.

Easy Blueberry Galette

Plump blueberries are welcome signs of summer. The season is in full swing by the time they’re ripe and ready, and even though that means it’s easily 100 degrees in the shade (at least in central Alabama), I still make at least a few trips each season to Barber Berry Farm, u-pick operation near me, and spend an hour or two in stifling heat filling white buckets with hundreds of the frosted-indigo fruit.

Despite usually leaving with a few bug bites, sunburned ears and my shirt firmly sweat-stuck to my back, I also leave with a few gallons of blueberries, well worth any temporary discomfort. I eat at least half of them as they are, no cooking or additions needed. But I also love piling them in a piecrust to create a blueberry galette (which is really just a fancy word for a freeform tart).

Blueberry Galette

This rustic dessert is crazy easy, especially if you do like I do, and use store-bought dough. 

• One 10-12 inch circle of store-bought pie crust dough, thawed 

• 1/3 cup granulated sugar

• 2 tablespoons flour

• 2.5 cups blueberries

• 1 teaspoon lemon juice

Heat the oven to 400 degrees and place a rack in the middle. Place dough circle on a piece of parchment paper and place on a baking sheet. 

Mix berries and the rest of the ingredients together in a bowl. Pile the berry mixture in the center of the dough and leave a 2-inch border. Fold the edges of the dough over the edge of the blueberry pile, pinching the dough to seal up any cracks that happen as you fold. 

Bake until dough is golden brown and berries are bubbling, about 40-45 minutes.

Let the galette cool for about 15 minutes before slicing.

Save Some!

If you go blueberry picking, go ahead and get a bunch. If you don’t think you can eat them all before they spoil, freeze them to use later. Make sure the berries are clean and dry and lay them in a single layer on a sheet pan. They can touch on the sides a bit but should not be jumbled up on top of each other. Place the pan in the freezer and freeze the berries solid (several hours). Then package the individually frozen berries in freezer-safe zip-top bags. Defrost as needed all fall and winter long to add summer’s sweetness to cereal, pancakes, muffins, pies or whatever you like.

I Scream, You Scream

It's hot. I know I'm not telling you anything you don't know. But it is. And it's so steamy and sticky and sweltering, that it's worth saying again. But the cool, creamy treat we all scream for this time of year will refresh you from the inside out, so here are two of my favorites -- one an old standard and one a more recent discovery -- that you can make yourself (no screaming required). 

Peach Ice Cream

It’s not embellished, gussied up, garnished or infused with anything. It’s not fancy. There are no frills. It’s just plain ole peach ice cream (my mama's recipe), but far from being pedestrian, it's perfect in its simplicity. Combine sugar, ripe fruit, Eagle Brand sweetened condensed milk (an icon of old-fashioned Southern desserts) and a tub of Cool Whip (yes, Cool Whip), pour into your ice cream machine, and a couple thousand spins of the dasher later, you’re left with a frozen delight full of pure peachy pleasure.

• 3 small (5 ounce) cans PET evaporated milk

• 1/2 of a 14 ounce can of Eagle Brand sweetened condensed milk

• 8 ounces Cool Whip

• 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

• 1/2 cup sugar

• 7 medium to large peaches, peeled, chopped and mashed

• whole milk (approximately 1/2 to 1 cup)

Mix all the ingredients except the milk together, folding in the Cool Whip last. Pour into a 4-quart  ice cream machine and add milk to the fill line. Freeze following your machine's instructions.

Sweet Cream Gelato

My brother whipped this up for the family over a 4th of July weekend a few years ago. We all agreed it doesn't have the texture that its name "gelato" implies; it has almost the same feel, just a bit airier, as regular homemade ice cream. But the taste was wholly different and delectable. Less sweet, but still satisfying. No fruity flavors, not even a hint of vanilla, but no blandness either, just the light, buttery simplicity of heavy cream and milk. The recipe came from allrecipes.com.

• 2 cups whole milk

• 1 cup heavy cream

• 4 egg yolks

• 1/2 sugar

In a medium saucepan, mix milk and cream. Warm until foam forms around the edges. Remove from heat. 

In a large bowl, beat the egg yolks and sugar until frothy. Gradually pour the warm milk into the egg yolks, whisking constantly. Return mixture to saucepan; cook over medium heat, stirring with a wooden spoon until the mixture gels slightly and coats the back of the spoon. If small egg lumps begin to show, remove from heat immediately.

Pour the mixture through a sieve or fine strainer into a bowl. Cover, and chill for several hours or overnight.

Pour the mixture into an ice cream maker, and freeze according to the manufacturer's instructions. Transfer to a sealed container, and freeze until firm. If the gelato is too firm, place it in the refrigerator until it reaches the desired consistency.

Basil-Garlic Pork Chops

Summer may not officially be here yet, but with kids out of school plus temps and humidity climbing ever higher, I think it's safe to say that summer has begun. This time of year is all about cooking out, but if you’ve gotten stuck in grilling gridlock, bust out of the chicken and burger rut and throw a few bone-in pork chops on the fire instead. 

Pork chops take on a variety of flavors with ease, making them a perfect vehicle for a multitude of marinade options. This recipe, courtesy of the National Pork Board, is simple, savory and transports your tastebuds straight to the Mediterranean. And did I mention it was simple? In not much more time than it takes to open a pack of hot dogs, you can whip up the marinade and infuse your chops with the essence of lemon, fresh basil and garlic. A drizzle of balsamic vinegar at the end provides a pop of piquant zip.

Serve these chops with equally easy-to-prepare sides like roasted potatoes and parmesan broiled tomatoes. 

NOTE: If you’re fearful of grilling pork because you're nervous that you’ll overcook it, invest in a good meat thermometer. They’re not expensive, and they’ll help you ensure your chops (and any other meats you grill) are cooked to precisely the right temperature. Some models include a wireless gauge that will alert you when they're done, so no more worrying or or constantly checking your watch.

Basil-Garlic Pork Chops

Serves 4 

• 4 porterhouse (or other bone-in) pork chops, 3/4-inch thick

• 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

• 3 tablespoons fresh basil chopped (or 1 tablespoon of dried basil)
  

• 1 tablespoon lemon juice, fresh

• 1 teaspoon coarse salt

• 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder (or 1 garlic clove, minced)

• 1/2 teaspoon fresh-ground black pepper,

Mix together all ingredients except pork chops in a shallow baking dish. Add chops and spread both sides with basil mixture. Let stand 15 to 30 minutes in baking dish.

Meanwhile, prepare a grill to medium-high heat (about 450 degrees F.), oiling it with a brush or paper towel. Grill chops over direct heat until the internal temperature reaches between 145 degrees F. (medium rare) and 160 degrees F. (medium), on a meat thermometer, 4 to 5 minutes per side. Remove chops from the grill and let rest for 3 minutes.

Honeysuckle

While Southerners often claim honeysuckle as “ours,” there are actually many species that thrive all over the United States. But the variety most common in our region, Japanese honeysuckle, is the one that says “summer’s coming!” with its delicate white (that soon turn butter-yellow) blooms on vines that twist around tree trunks and tumble up and over backyard fences. Its tubular flowers look like spent party horns, and while they’re small, their sweet scent is thick and heady. And, each one has a surprise inside: The tiny drop of glistening nectar hanging suspended from the thread-like pistel once it’s pulled away from the petals is a treat simple and pure. As it melts on my tongue, it creates a sugar-laden second that transports me straight back to childhood.

When we lived in North Carolina, a neighbor a few years older taught me how to pinch off a small piece of a honeysuckle blossom’s backside, slowly and carefully slide the slim, white rod out of its center and get ready to “suck the syrup” as soon as I saw the bubble of moisture. When honeysuckle was at its height, we’d tiptoe into her kitchen, snag a big wooden bowl off the counter and take it with us as we walked up and down our neighborhood streets, picking honeysuckle flowers and putting them in the bowl. When it was filled, we’d head back to her house, sit on her porch and suck syrup until there wasn’t a bit left. This memory makes honeysuckle one of my favorite plants. But my admiration is not shared by all.

When Southerners complain about a vine that quickly consumes pretty much any outdoor space, overwhelming and often obliterating anything and everything in its path, kudzu is usually the plant we’re cursing. But honeysuckle is every bit as profuse and can be just as prolific. It is invasive and can cause gardeners a good bit of hassle and heartburn. Its relentless growth can smother and strangle the other shrubs and even trees that it covers. It’s actually such an issue in some parts of the country that the sale of the plant has been banned. 

My mother might vote for a honeysuckle ban if it ever appeared on the ballot in Alabama. While she loves the flowers’ sweet scent, she’s no fan of the vine. It’s a weed of the worst kind, one that will quickly take over a yard, going and growing wherever it pleases. And my mom has developed a passionate personal vendetta against weeds.

As much as I enjoy honeysuckle, I know it’s hardy and extremely tough to get rid of, so I’ve taken great pleasure watching my mom battle this enemy. She’s soft-spoken and generally mild mannered, but put her within a hundred yards of honeysuckle, and she transforms to a horticulture super hero.

Garden gloves are slipped on and pulled down tight. Fingers are flexed. Sleeves are rolled up. Her gaze goes steely. And her gait is the determined walk of someone intent on completing a righteous task. She examines the offending vine, looking for the right spot to attack. When she finds it, she springs into action, grabbing and tugging, yanking and pulling, her teeth locked in a stubborn grimace. When at last the strong, sinewy vine gives up and comes loose, she laughs with delight. Seeing a honeysuckle vine submit to her will brings my mother such joy that I’ve even helped her before, killing something I love for someone I love much, much more. 

In my own yard, I let the honeysuckle have its way. It’s currently blanketing the fence at the far corner of my backyard and crawling up a huge old oak. I often spend a few moments drinking in its familiar, soothing perfume before picking just a few flowers and stealing their honeyed liquid. 

My mom has often advised me to get rid of it, reminding me it will eventually kill other plants. I’ve thus far ignored that advice. Maybe one day, when and if my vines take down some other botanical I’m fond of, I’ll let her at them, but for now, honeysuckle is safe with me.

Honeysuckle Sorbet

I used the recipe to make a granita instead of sorbet. It lacks the sorbet’s smooth texture, but it has the same scent-sasational flavor.

Not interested in sucking on a flower? You can still enjoy eating honeysuckle via this sorbet. Though I roughly halved it (and forgot the lemon juice, whoops!), all credit for this recipe goes to chef Bill Smith, recently retired from Crook’s Corner, a good eats institution in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Find the original version and a little more info about chef Smith in this Garden & Gun article.

INGREDIENTS

Honeysuckle Water

• 3 cups cold water

• 2 cups honeysuckle blossoms

Simple Syrup

• 1/2 cup water

• 1 cup sugar

• teeny pinch of cinnamon

Method

Soak blossoms in the water in the refrigerator overnight or up to 24 hours. In the meantime, make the simple syrup by mixing the sugar and water in saucepan and bringing to a boil. Simmer for a few minutes (until the sugar is all dissolved). Let cool. Refrigerate until use. Mix the honeysuckle water with the simple syrup. Put the mixture into your ice cream maker and follow its instructions.

Easy Easter Ham & Gravy

What's better than pork? More pork. And that's why this is what you should be serving for Easter this year: Molasses-Glazed Ham with Bacon Red Eye Gravy. 

The recipe is a National Pork Board creation, so its double-pig-dipping makes sense. They were looking to give a classic Easter meal a fresh twist, and inspired by bacon's popularity, chose it to highlight the ham. The result is full of intense flavors that don't fight each other: salty, smoky and sweet are equal partners, while a hint of bitterness and herbaceous freshness accent the dominant tastes. 

Oh, and it's easy too. You're really only embellishing and warming an already-cooked ham, and the gravy, the serious star here, comes together quickly and can be made a day ahead. 

So get everyone all dolled up, get to church, snap some pics and then let the fam snack on the sweets in their Easter baskets while the ham cooks and you whip up the gravy and sides.

Here are my suggestions. The gravy is begging for some mashed potatoes to smother, and biscuits are needed for sopping.  Oh, and something green will make the plate prettier. Simple steamed asparagus or green beans will do the trick and don't detract from the main players.   

Happy Easter!

Molasses-Glazed Ham with Bacon Red Eye Gravy

• 6 to 8 pound fully cooked bone-in ham

• 1/3 cup molasses (unsulfered NOT blackstrap)

For Bacon Red Eye Gravy

• 1/2 half pound bacon, sliced into 1-inch pieces

• 1/4 cup bacon fat (from cooking the bacon)

• 1/2 teaspoon finely chopped shallot

• 3 cloves of garlic, minced

• 1/4 cup of flour

• 1 1/2 cups brewed coffee (not dark roast) at room temperature

• 1 1/2 cups chicken broth (reduced-sodium)

• 3 tablespoons molasses (unsulfured, NOT blackstrap)

• 1 teaspoon finely chopped fresh thyme (or 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme)

• salt and fresh-ground pepper

• pinch of cayenne pepper

Preheat oven to 325 degrees F. Position the rack in the lower third of the oven. 

Line the bottom of a shallow roasting pan with aluminum foil. 

Score a diamond pattern into the ham, about 1/3-inch deep. Place the ham, flat side down, in the pan. Bake until the internal temperature reaches 140 degrees F.  on a meat thermometer, 15 to 18 minutes per pound. During the last 30 minutes of baking time, brush the ham with 1/3 cup of the molasses. Remove ham from the oven, transfer to a cutting board, and let rest 10 minutes. 

For Bacon Red-Eye Gravy: In a large skillet, cook bacon over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until crisp and brown, about 10 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer bacon to paper towels to drain and cool. Measure and reserve 1/4 cup bacon fat, and discard remaining fat. Coarsely chop bacon and set aside. 

In a medium saucepan, heat bacon fat over medium heat. Add shallots and cook, stirring often, until they begin to brown, about 2 minutes. Add garlic and cook until fragrant, about 1 minute. Stir in flour and let bubble without browning for 1 minute. Gradually stir in coffee and broth, followed by remaining 3 tablespoons molasses and thyme. Bring to a boil over high heat, stirring often. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer, stirring often, until the sauce has reduced slightly to the consistency of heavy cream, 10 to 15 minutes. Season to taste with salt, black pepper and cayenne. (The sauce can be made up to 1 day ahead. Reheat in a saucepan or microwave oven before serving.) Just before serving, stir in bacon. Makes about 3 cups sauce. 

Carve ham and serve with sauce. 

Makes 15-20 4-ounce servings. 
 

Sprouted Lemon-Lavender Cookies

Spring has sprung! I love so many things about this season that's all too short in the Deep South. Soon, it will be 90 degrees in the shade down here, keeping most of hiding indoors in our AC. But for now, the temps are mild, the sky is impossibly blue, flowers are blooming,  and the cacophony of chirping birds and buzzing bees is somehow calming. 

It all puts me in a loving mood, and the current focus of my affection is a lavender and its tiny purple petals. These Sprouted Lemon-Lavender Cookies are a wonderful way to incorporate lavender’s subtle but scent-sationsal flavor into food.

I can' t take credit for coming up with these simple delights that happen to be gluten free  (yay!). I was introduced to these cookies several years ago while "working" with chef Ban Stewart, who was then at Lake Martin's Kowaliga restaurant, and the fine folks at To Your Health Sprouted Flour Company in Fitzpatrick, Ala.  Ban was kind enough to share the recipe, and when I made them again recently, I knew I needed to share it. (Oh, and these mouth-watering images were captured by the talented Erika Tracy. )

Bake up a batch or two and consider using them to fill this year's Easter baskets. Nobody will miss the drug-store candy, I promise. 

But about those cookies...

Lemon-Lavender Cookies

• 1 ¾ cups To Your Health sprouted brown rice flour (it's gluten free!!)

• 1 ½ teaspoons baking powder

• 1 tablespoon lemon zest

• 2 teaspoons dried lavender flowers, finely chopped

• 1 stick of butter (at room temp)

• 1 cup organic sugar

• 2 large eggs

• ¾ teaspoon lemon juice

• 1/2 cup powdered sugar

Cream the butter and sugar together in a mixer with a paddle attachment. Add the eggs and mix to combine. Add the flour, baking powder, lemon zest and juice, and the lavender and mix until combined. Use a small spoon or scoop to form the dough into balls and roll in powdered sugar. Place the cookies on a lightly greased, parchment-lined cookie sheet, one inch apart. Bake at 350 degrees for 10 to 12 minutes.