I know it's been a long time since I've written. For about a week I was in North Carolina with my family after the painfully surprising death of my maternal grandmother. Unexpected by me, I was really shaken and being with my most loved ones was exactly what I needed. My grandmother was the definition of a lady. Always dressed in a skirt an flats with her hair permed, she greeted everyone she knew with a smile of true kindness and love, and greeted my family and I with a "woohoo back here," if she was back in her room dressing or doing a crossword or watching Emeril. When I was young, she would be sitting by the front window smoking her Basic cigarettes and watching us pull into the driveway of their home, waiting for something in the oven to be done. My grandmother was an immensely talented and artistic woman. She painted, did needle point, crocheted, made me dresses when I was very young, my mother tells me she made me 13 dresses before I was even born, and the list goes on with many other talents that end with the capstone, my grandmother cooked like no one else.
I have such strong memories of eating at her dinner table with the kitchen smelling of hot oil and either rolls or buttermilk biscuits in the oven. My grandmother was always the last to be seated, always running around the kitchen exclaiming that we should go ahead and eat, to not wait for her. When she finally did sit down to eat, she ate just about as slow as a snail moves, and before she was even finished with her meal, my brother and I would already be done with dessert, wiggling to get out of our seats and get up from the table. The best food she served was always southern, fried chicken, green beans cooked in fat back, brown rice casserole, thin crunchy buttermilk biscuits, pecan pie (pronounced pee-can pie), butter beans an corn, and the list goes on, but I must stop before I get too hungry.
Like most grandparents' homes, my grandparents' home was, in my mind, a scaled-up version of a treasure box with furniture inside. I loved to open each and every single door, drawer, box, or whatever else I could find to see what treasures lay within. Most of the time what I found was of little significance, half completed needle point patterns abandoned for another project, cashmere sweaters, old coins and post cards, boring stuff to a pre-teen. Sometimes though, I would come across real treasure, her jewelry box filled with shiny trinkets from her past, paper clippings of my mother's accomplishments, old photographs of old friends and vacations. These pictures were my favorite things to find. It was such a dream to me to think of my grandparents as young, as people who were part of the world, who traveled to exotic places, who laughed and poked fun of the town "Intercourse, PA," who were babies once, who grew up to make mistakes and live life as it should be lived, with adventure, hard work, family, southern food and southern culture. I know I'm painting a glossy picture here, and as is true of all families, not all things were this glossy. My grandfather yelled a lot; I was always a little scared and intimidated by him, even though I knew he loved me to death. He was always somewhat apart from the goings on around him, sitting in his chair with large earphones on listening to jazz tapes or sitting at the kitchen table with his grapefruit, grapenuts cereal, coffee, and the paper, all prepared for him by my grandmother. And after breakfast, he would leave to go to the club to play cards or pool, or drive east to get some good NC barbeque or country ham, or sausages. Looking back, I really only think fondly of the many days I spent at my grandparents' house, and even though I want to and could go on continuously describing these tiny memories, I'll save them for something else, another time perhaps.
To get to the last and final point, my grandmother, being the great cook that she was, hardly used recipes, an when you asked her how to make something, her answer was something to the effect of "oh I don't know, I just do it," or "you add a little of this and then a little of that, I don't know how much, until it's right." So, her fabulous little crunchy buttermilk biscuit recipe is half-way lost, the ingredients are known, and that's it. I've made a first pass, which I've included below. Maybe my mom can follow this recipe and see what she thinks, I have a feeling her memory is more accurate than mine. I think these are a bit lighter than I remember, but I cut them larger than she did, and perhaps baked them for too short of a time? At any rate, they are still delicious and quite easy to make, and go with just about everything (at least in a southern home they do). Also included below is a woooonderful corn chowder recipe that I adapted from "50 Chowders: One pot meals - clam, corn & beyond." My recipe is quite a bit lighter and healthier than the original version, as well as a little easier to make. You should really try it, the flavor is superb.
Simple Southern Buttermilk Biscuits
2 c self rising flour
1/2 c shortening
3/4 c buttermilk
Preheat oven to 450 degrees F.
Cut shortening into flour with tips of fingers or a pastry cutter, until shortening is the size of small peas. Make a well in the center of the flour mixture and pour in buttermilk. Mix with hands just until dough comes together. Turn out onto a lightly floured surface and pat out or roll until dough reaches 1/2-inch thickness. Cut out biscuits with circle shaped cookie cutter. Pull together and re-pat out dough to cut more biscuits.
Place biscuits on an ungreased cookie sheet and bake 12-15 minutes, until lightly browned on top.
Corn Chowder
1 Tbsp butter
1 oz turkey bacon, diced 1/4-inch
2 c frozen corn
1 small onion, cut into 1/2-inch dice
1 small red bell pepper, cut into 1/2-inch dice
1/2 tsp dried thyme
1/2 tsp ground cumin
1/8 tsp tumeric
1 large yukon gold potato, cut into 1/2-inch dice
3 c chicken stock
3/4 c milk
3 Tbsp half-and-half
Melt butter in a large heavy pot over medium heat. Add diced bacon and cook until crispy. Add onion, bell pepper, thyme, cumin, and tumeric. Saute, stirring occasionally until onion and pepper are tender but not browned, about 8 minutes. Add corn, potato, and chicken stock. Turn heat to high, cover, and boil vigorously about 10 minutes. Use the back of a wooden spoon to smash some bits of corn and potato against the side of the pot. Reduce the heat to medium an season with salt and pepper.
Remove from the heat, and stir in the milk and half-and-half. Adjust seasoning, if necessary. Let chowder sit at room temperature for up to an hour, for flavors to meld. Reheat chowder over low heat, making sure it doesn't boil, when ready to serve.
