American

With blue crabs, sausage, corn on the cob, and tender new potatoes, this lowcountry-inspired shrimp boil makes for a rustic and utterly delicious spread that is just the thing for impromptu summertime gatherings. I sometimes serve it in individual tins or buckets, but that’s about as refined as I ever get with this low-key dish, which is best eaten right out of the bucket or from a big pile on the table, with a crowd of friends, and always with your fingers.

This easy butter preparation adds an unexpected flavor dimension to any dish and is equally good on steaks, steamed broccoli, roasted fingerling potatoes, or fish and rice.

I used to make crab cakes using all kinds of herbs and vegetables for added flavor and texture, but the ultrasimple crab cakes Peter and I enjoyed on a recent trip to the Maryland shore convinced me that in this case, less is more. I don’t add much more to this dressed-down version than is needed to hold the cakes together, so the only time to make them is when crab is in season and at the peak of freshness.

Soft-shell crab season, which generally lasts from May through June, is short and highly anticipated. That’s because soft-shell crabmeat is unbelievably tender and buttery-sweet, and the shell, which you eat along with the meat, is perfectly crunchy without being the least bit tough or chewy. True fanatics don’t let a moment of soft-shell crab season go to waste, eating them for breakfast, lunch, or dinner, in sandwiches or served solo. Ask your fishmonger to clean them for you.

I grew up on these tasty little fried cakes, which Granny Foster used to serve for breakfast with fried eggs and biscuits, or sometimes for supper along with mashed potatoes and coleslaw. Like most Southerners, Granny used canned salmon in her croquettes. I opt instead for freshly poached or grilled salmon, a move that allows the delicate, grassy flavor of the fish to come through. Crispy and satisfying (the name croquette comes from the French for “to crunch”), these easy treats are an excellent way to revitalize leftovers from last night’s salmon dinner, ensuring that the switch from canned to fresh fish does not necessarily sacrifice convenience.

I like to make this in early summer, when the first summer vegetables are coming in and the flounder, which can grow to as much as twenty-five pounds, are running small—what our fishmonger calls “plate size.” They are so fresh and dainty at that time of year that I usually budget one whole fish per person. I sometimes serve this simple dish with a green salad or fluffy steamed rice, but you don’t have to, as it’s really a complete meal in and of itself—the vegetable ratatouille, made with smaller-than-usual dice, doubles as both a sauce and a vegetable side.

Last time I was at the SeeWee, an old-school seafood restaurant outside Charleston, I had an incredibly good plate of grilled grouper with fresh tomato salsa. Not only was the fish superfresh and perfectly cooked, but the salsa, a rough mix of vine-ripe tomatoes, white onion, and cilantro, was so simple and bright that it enhanced the flavor of the fish perfectly without overpowering it. I was so fond of it that I’ve been re-creating it at home ever since. It’s just the sort of light, fresh supper you want in the dead of summer.

Despite its name, this traditional shrimp dish isn’t so much barbecue as a savory, saucy stew. It gets its full-bodied flavor from Worcestershire sauce and dark beer, and a dose of fresh lemon gives it a bright, clean finish.

It may not be deep-fried, but with a satisfyingly crunchy cornmeal crust, this skillet-fried catfish has all the flavors and textures that you would expect from fried fish. Most important, served with a healthy dollop of Herb Tartar Sauce or a heap of Roxy’s Grated Coleslaw (page 260), lemon wedges, and cold beer, it is just as sure to draw a crowd. This recipe can also be made with snapper, flounder, or any other flaky white fish.

When I was young, we ate pancakes or waffles for breakfast almost every Saturday morning, and my dad was the self-appointed commander of the waffle iron. Dad’s waffles were crispy, light, and puffy, perfect with a drizzle of honey or—his pick—molasses. My version of our old weekend favorite does my dad’s waffles justice. They are wonderfully crispy with a slightly tangy bite imparted by the buttermilk. Serve warm with butter and honey or sweetened cream and fresh fruit.

Every Southern cook has his or her own version of this stratalike breakfast soufflé, but I’m willing to bet that each and every one begins with white sandwich bread. In the past, I’ve tried to fancy it up using challah or brioche or some other bread, but it was never quite as good. I first had this particular variation on a visit to Meridian, Mississippi, catering my cousin’s rehearsal dinner. My crew and I were working so hard we hadn’t even stopped to eat. One of the local ladies, Mott, brought us this soufflé, ready to bake. Hot out of the oven, it was utterly delicious. Note that it should be prepared the night before, allowed to soak overnight, and baked the following morning.

This hearty dish, which is a great way to reinvigorate leftover Foster Family’s Pot Roast with Herb-Roasted Vegetables (page 199), is inspired by Southern dishes featuring “low” cuts of meat. With savory layers of potato, roast, and poached eggs finished with the cool heat of the Horseradish Mustard Vinaigrette and brightened with fresh greens, this crowd-pleaser makes for a decadent Sunday brunch, but it can just as comfortably double as the main event at dinner. Serve with warm, crusty toast for a complete meal.

Red-eye gravy—which for most Southerners is the only acceptable sauce for country ham—is a savory and slightly bitter mixture of black coffee and the pan drippings left behind from frying country ham. I’m not sure how the coffee first made its way into the pan, but I like to imagine it was one of those happy accidents born of necessity. It rings true, anyway, because Southerners love gravy so much that they will find a way to eke some out of a greasy pan no matter what. I lighten my version of this quintessentially Southern dish with a bright shock of fresh, green asparagus, which plays perfectly off the saltiness of the red-eye gravy and the richness of the runny egg yolks.

A good hash is like soup: you can toss together all the odds and ends from your fridge and pantry and end up with something rustic and hearty that is much more than the sum of its parts.

My mom always made this hearty breakfast when my husband, Peter, and I came to visit her in Memphis; it is so Southern that eating it always made me feel I was really home. (I don’t think Peter, who is from New York, had ever had either pork tenderloin or gravy for breakfast.) The roasted tomato gravy is what makes it so special; roasting the tomatoes cuts and deepens their bright acidity, adding complex layers of flavor to the savory sauce. You can mix things up by making this dish with sausage patties or leftover slices of Grilled and Roasted Filet of Beef with Crispy Roasted Shallots (page 193) instead of the pork tenderloin. Either way, you’ll want to use the biscuits to sop up the last drops of gravy.

Fried green tomatoes are one of those Southern classics that inspire fanatical devotion. For good reason: green tomatoes have a lovely tart flavor that mellows and warms in the heat of the frying pan, and, because they are so firm, they keep their shape and texture even after they’re cooked. They are most often eaten on their own, as a side dish, so it wasn’t until I visited a small grocery store in Greenwood, Mississippi, that I tried a fried green tomato BLT for the first time. It immediately struck me as such an obvious combination that I couldn’t believe I hadn’t already thought of it myself.

My sister used to make these rich rolls for her husband and kids when they went duck hunting. She would prepare them the night before, wrap them in foil, and refrigerate. Then, when Pat and the kids got up to go hunting—sometimes as early as four in the morning—they would just pop the rolls in the oven to melt the cheese and hit the road. The way everything melds together on the soft, steamed rolls is so irresistible, I’m pretty sure the rolls never made it to the duck camp, or even out of the driveway. For nonhunters like me, these rolls, served warm or at room temperature, are great for tailgating, picnics, and road trips.

These splendidly soft dinner rolls, which my aunt June used to make for special occasions, are the Southern equivalent of brioche, minus the egg. I’ve added fresh sage for an aromatic boost.