American

In 2009 the USDA declared seventy-nine of Mississippi’s eighty-two counties disaster areas due to excessive rain in spring and fall and a drought in the summer. It rained more than fifteen inches in May when farmers were trying to plant their crops. Then in the busy harvest months, a deluge of eight inches in September, followed by fourteen and a half inches in October. It was one of the worst yields on record. My cousin Michael Thompson has the right temperament to be a farmer. He is unflappable in the face of natural disaster and focuses on doing everything he can to foster a good soybean yield each season. “To do what I love on land that means so much to our family, it’s home . . .” As he says this his voice trails off dreamily.

The rhyme that goes “something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and a silver sixpence in her shoe” has sent many a bride down the aisle. A sixpence is hard to come by these days, so many brides in these parts use a copper penny from the year they were born to help ensure a prosperous marriage, good luck, and protection against want. A few have a trinket for their charm bracelet made after the honeymoon. Cutting carrots into rounds and marinating them in the dressing gives them a burnished look like copper pennies. It’s nice to serve this at engagement parties celebrating a bride-elect.

What a nickname, Good Donny. It’s a nickname most people couldn’t live up to. His grandkids gave him that one and nobody has found grounds to disagree. Like the name implies, he’s a good guy. Good Donny’s son, Benji, came by wielding some of the best pork cracklings we’d ever had. They were the perfect salty blend of tender, crisp, and crunch. Benji went on and on about how he had to beg Good Donny to give him just half a bag. Turns out that a friend of Good Donny’s makes them and this friend is getting on up in age, meaning every batch might be the last. You would have thought Benji was passing out gold doubloons. Next time we saw Good Donny we made a point to tell him how crazy we were for those cracklings. The following day, Donny showed up with five pint bags full of those golden crispy treasures. When Benji came by a few days later, my husband, Donald, retrieved a bag that he had hidden away. Benji was beside himself with envy.

Chicory flowers are Aequinotales, meaning the flowers open and close at the same time just like clockwork. Here, that is from around six in the morning until the sun is high at noon. About the same time these blossoms are awakening, chicory roots blended with coffee are percolating across Louisiana. They make a fine combination. This dressing has the faintest sweetness of Louisiana molasses that works with the coffee to balance the bitter bite of the salad greens.

“Up until the time I was eleven or twelve years old, people would ask me where I was from and I’d always say Leland. I never wanted to claim Texas . . . I loved Mississippi. All the blues in the world came from there.” A tall, lanky albino almost certainly isn’t what springs to mind when you think of a blues guitar-man. But, once you listen to Johnny Winter, all that changes. His parents lived in Leland, Mississippi, before moving to Beaumont, Texas. As a kid Johnny spent his summers in the small Mississippi town on Highway 61—the Blues Highway. These biscuits bake up a little on the pale side, but that’s all right.

Oyster patties are much more sophisticated than their name and are to me one of the most elegant dishes to serve for a seated dinner, not that we have those often. They also make a wonderful offering for a more casual soiree, served from a chafing dish surrounded by the little pastry cases ready to be filled with the warm creamed oysters.

Most crawfish bread recipes are made with a hollowed-out loaf of French bread. Here the crawfish filling is enrobed in a tender ricotta dough, making these more like turnovers. Whether you make them small for pick-up party food or a more substantial calzone-like size, these are perfect for tailgating or game-day parties.

The Jasper County village of Bay Springs, twenty miles from Laurel, Mississippi, was named in 1901 for an artesian spring flowing from the trunk of a bay laurel; it flows still to this day. I always think of that town when I make this dish. Introducing freshwater crawfish to leaves from a bay laurel, traditional pickling spices, and tarragon vinegar prepares them to sit on top of salads and toasts.

In most bait shops throughout the South and beyond, big gallon jars of pink-tinted pickled eggs sit on counters next to smoked summer sausages. Here these two favorite fisherman’s snacks are brined up together and make a perfect take-along lunch for a day out on the lake for the angler gourmand.

This may barely qualify as a recipe. It’s not a time-saver, that’s for sure, because these take forever to assemble. That doesn’t stop my friend Neck-bone Red from dropping me a note to inquire if I am going to be bringing bacon crackers whenever she knows I’ll be at a party. I have found in my hours devoted to crafting these irresistible bowtie-shaped snacks that the way to make a bunch of them at a time is to place them on a wire rack set over a rimmed baking sheet. The rack keeps the crackers from getting soggy while they bake and are corseted by the bacon.

Premium Number One Beauregards are a popular variety of sweet potato grown in Vardaman, Mississippi. There are ninety sweet-potato farms within forty miles of this town, which even boasts a Sweet Potato Street running right into Main Street. With twenty thousand acres under cultivation, sweet potatoes have to be the state’s largest vegetable crop. Here a tart-sweet treatment and a dusting of crystalline flakes of salt elevate the down-home goodness of my favorite Beauregards.

Many a child home sick from school has been fed Rum Tum Tiddy—a soothing, warm concoction of tomato soup and melted cheese over toast. Where the dish got its funny name I don’t know. I do know that it can hardly be said without a smile or guffaw. Here those comforting flavors are set up as a pick-up snack great for parties of all ages.

In the South, we mean it when we offer you a tall glass of sweet tea—it is sweet! This is the real thing, infused with help from the hot sun and sweet enough to put a smile on anyone’s face. Make sure to add the sugar right after you bring the warm tea in from the sun so it’ll dissolve completely. Once the sweet tea is mixed, keep it refrigerated and discard it if it appears at all cloudy.

If you’ve ever seen the fabulous movie Steel Magnolias, you’ll remember the running gag of a groom’s cake in the shape of a giant armadillo that “looks like it’s bleeding to death”! Until I saw that movie, I had no idea I could produce my favorite color in a cake. I left the theater determined to uncover the secret—which is, of course, red velvet cake. It’s a deep red cake with velvety texture and a subtle flavor of cocoa hidden under snow white, vanilla-laced, cream cheese frosting. The armadillo shape is optional.

This classic Tex-Mex stew (see photograph page 10) is rich and delicious without the hours of simmering that most stews require. I cannot imagine ever eating this without Aunt Edna’s Homemade Flour Tortillas (page 171) to soak up every last drop of flavorful sauce.

This is everything you want a chocolate cake to be. A simply prepared batter bakes up into a delicious cake with layers that have a tender crumb and good chocolate flavor. The frosting is beaten into billowy clouds of shiny chocolate goodness that spreads like silk.

There are as many different styles of tortillas as there are regions in the parts of the world where they are eaten. I make tortillas like the ones I grew up eating in my Aunt Edna’s kitchen in Texas: thick, fluffy, and addictive! This dough can be used to make them any way you like: small or large, thick or thin. With practice, you’ll get more efficient and turn into a one-person assembly line: cooking one tortilla while you roll out another. Nothing is better to sop up the creamy gravy of Aunt Didi’s Carne Guisada (page 107). Or eat them warm, straight off the comal (a flat griddle, see below) and spread with butter. I still love them for breakfast, these days usually with beans rolled up inside.

The carrots we grew were so sweet and delicious that we’d often go out to the garden, pull them one by one out of the ground, and bite right into them, with nothing more than a cursory wipe on our jeans on their journey from ground to mouth. An abundant crop would mean Mom would bake this divinely moist cake, which gave us the best reason ever to pray for a good harvest.

I can’t—don’t want to!—imagine Red Velvet Cake (page 201) or Mom’s Carrot Cake (page 204) without this luscious cream cheese frosting. This recipe makes a generous amount because, as far as I’m concerned, you can never have enough. So feel free to pile it between the layers and all over these or any other cakes (and to steal a spoonful or two just to taste along the way!).

Brownie mixes are easy, I know, but what you gain in time you lose in flavor. This recipe comes together quickly and yields fudgy brownies with more chocolate taste than you’ll ever get from a mix.