Southern Belly: A Food Lover's Companion
John T. Edge
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
In this fully updated and expanded edition, with recipes throughout, Edge travels from chicken shack to fish camp, from barbecue stand to pie shed. Pop this handy paperback in the glove box to take along on your next road trip. And even if you never get in the car, you'll enjoy the most savory history that the South has to offer.
homemade chowchow. Smuggled pepper vinegar home in my luggage. Never met a barbecue rub I didn’t like. My kitchen cupboard looked like a Stuckey’s storeroom, what with all the brightly colored labels and the kitschy packaging. Genuine Texas Beef Rib Super Swab in a glass boot bottle anyone? Of late, though, my ardor for collecting spices and condiments has cooled. With one exception: Burger House Seasoning, a raspy mix of cumin and salt and garlic and black pepper, which holds me in such thrall
randy spit. But in the early years of the twentieth century, San Leon was sold as a planned community, a “city of gorgeous flowers and beautiful shrubbery,” a “playground for untold thousands.” One real estate prospectus promised “cool, delightful breezes in summer” and pledged that San Leon would soon rival Coney Island and Atlantic City. Another, and this one was key, heralded “[e]xtra large and deliciously flavored oysters in almost unlimited quantities.” Exceptional of the oysters, most of
carousels of calories. And at the redbrick Dinner Bell, in business since the early 1950s, that carousel includes fat butter beans in potlikker, sweet potato casserole dotted with marshmallows, and sage-laced chicken and dumplings that owing to the richness of the poaching stock shade more toward yellow-green than pasty white. And let’s not forget the house specialty, fried cornmeal-coated disks of eggplant, raspy on the outside and creamy at their core, quite frankly, the best you’ll ever taste.
loading up the waitresses with paper trays piled high with sublime, coarsely chopped, smoked barbecue and sweetish slaw, tinted a ruddy hue by way of a good slug of vinegary barbecue sauce. Hushpuppies—crusty, creamy, and tasting of little more than corn and salt—come free for the asking. I order a “brown” tray—chopped meat from the outside or “bark” of the shoulder, the smokiest stuff—polish it off in short order, and convince Wayne to take a few minutes to define for me what folks mean when
“Goodness gracious, good and light, Martha White.” Though Flatt and Scruggs have since passed on, come Saturday night, when the Grand Ole Opry curtain rises, you can still count on hearing the Martha White jingle ringing through the hall: For the finest biscuits ever wuz Get Martha White Self-Rising Flour The one all-purpose flour Martha White Self-Rising Flour with Hot Rise Ham with Redeye Gravy from Benton’s Smoky Mountain Hams Serves 2 to 4 Although I offer a recipe for ham and