Smoke, Roots, Mountain, Harvest: Recipes and Stories Inspired by My Appalachian Home
256
Smoke, Roots, Mountain, Harvest: Recipes and Stories Inspired by My Appalachian Home
256Hardcover
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Overview
Showcasing the flavors and modern cooking techniques of Appalachia and the Blue Ridge Mountains: With over 70 delectable recipes and 80 stunning photographs organized by seasons, Smoke, Roots, Mountain, Harvest is an evocative cookbook rooted in Appalachian ingredients and flavors that takes readers and cooks deep into the heart and soul of America. Lauren McDuffie uses modern cooking techniques to transform traditional comfort food with a mountain sensibility into inspired meals and menus for anyone.
- Each chapter opens with storytelling that echoes the folklore and tall tales of the region.
- Beautiful color photographs capture mouthwatering dishes for all occasions—from morning beverages to a show-stopping berry buckle—as well as the tools, fruits, flowers, and scenery of life in the Mountain South.
- From the mountains of southwestern Virginia, Lauren McDuffie is a writer, food stylist, photographer, and creator of the blog Harvest and Honey.
- Menu suggestions and wine pairings encompass a variety of meal occasions, from small plates to soups, salads, mains, sides, drinks, dessert, along with tips and techniques on canning, pickling, and preserving.
- Mouthwatering recipes include Shaved Summer Squash Salad with Pickled Pepper Vinaigrette, Slow-Roasted Onion and Golden Apple Soup, Baked Pork Chops with Cran-Apple Moonshine Compote, Drunken Short Ribs with Smoky Gouda Grits and Mountain Gremolata, Pan-Seared Carrots with Bourbon-Maple Glaze, Triple Orange Cake with Honey-Lavender Buttercream, and many more.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781452168760 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Chronicle Books LLC |
| Publication date: | 05/14/2019 |
| Pages: | 256 |
| Sales rank: | 1,093,312 |
| Product dimensions: | 7.30(w) x 9.60(h) x 1.20(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Fall
The mountains, awash in their burnt oranges, yellows, and fiery reds, put on a magic show for their audience every year. Their death and decay shower the hillsides with one last, spectacular gasp of life. You can see your breath in the air now. Nightfall comes a little sooner. The creeping darkness convinces the trees to release the last of their leaves, sending them down to the rotting forest floor below.
Like a spell, a deep frost will overtake summer's gardens, crawling in and blanketing the ground each morning, making itself right at home. Fog rolls into the valleys in the fall, too, creating an eerie, dreamlike landscape, which no doubt inspired the campfire ghost stories and folklore that have entertained generations of the region's residents. On darker, colder days, you begin to see smoke rising from the chimneys that are speckled throughout the landscape, a prelude to winter.
The scent of those rotting leaves and lingering smoke is ever-present in the hills of Appalachia in the fall, permeating my memories. Death and decay. Fire and warmth. Cinder and smoke. It's my favorite time of year. Across the mountains, people are closing their windows and drawing inside. They stoke their fires, hunker down, and surrender to the inevitable change, welcoming it with open arms.
GHOST STORIES
MAYBE IT'S THE CHILL IN THE AIR — the pleasantly shocking novelty of it — that causes people to sit a little closer to one another as they shiver around a fall campfire in the mountains.
In the summertime, when personal space comes at a higher premium, we tend to spread out a bit more, to find the bit of grass that is farthest from all of the other people at the river. In autumn we get just a little closer.
It could be the campfire itself that does it, mesmerizing us in every way. The sharp cracks and snaps of the kindling; the billowing smoke; that deep, burning glow: it pulls us in. Or, maybe it's the ghost stories that do it. Maybe it's not that we're so cold after all. Maybe we shiver close to one another because we're scared.
The isolation and fear of the mountains experienced by European settlers, and by the generations who followed them, resulted in a wealth of legends, spooky folklore, and paranormal accounts. They trickled from dinner tables, front porches, and school yards to country stores and campfire gatherings. Fall in Appalachia provides the perfect backdrop for a good scare and, in my opinion, there is no better place to tell or hear a ghost story than around a roaring campfire.
Many locals will tell you the region's ghost story culture has diminished a bit with time. I was lucky enough to get a small taste of it when I was a kid. I remember going to sleepovers in the backyard of a friend's house, which was tucked away deep in the woods. We'd trek through the leaves, giddy as all get out as we made our way through their thickly forested backyard to help set up camp for the night. Her dad would build an impressive fire, and we'd make s'mores and eat franks 'n' beans. Then he would scare the living daylights out of us with his tales of local ghosts and small-town haunts ("haints" he called them). He "scout's honor" swore they were all true, but I knew good and well he was never a scout.
"Nothing works up an appetite quite like a good scare!" he'd say, still holding the flashlight under his face to better resemble the spooky ghosts and ghouls in his stories. "We come for the stories, and stay for the food!"
Cooking over a campfire gives you a primal sense of pleasure and accomplishment, which you can't quite get over a kitchen stove. There's just something so special about it. I fell in love with it on those ghost story nights as a kid because I felt so grown up. The responsibility of cooking a meal over real live fire was a privilege that resonated with me then, and still does every time I get the chance.
This recipe takes the season's poster child for good eats, the great pumpkin, and places it front and center. By using the pumpkin itself as the cooking vessel, the seemingly simple combination of ingredients becomes something of a showstopper. When you bury the pumpkins in a bed of hot coals, you infuse the smokiness of the fire into the flesh as they cook. But if outdoor cooking isn't doable, fear not! This recipe is easily adapted to an oven, so I've included directions for both methods here. The trick to working with pumpkins (and many other squash varieties) is pre-roasting them to help soften the skins and to make cutting a much easier (and safer) task. Whether I'm roasting my stuffed pumpkins inside or over an outdoor campfire, I always precook them in my oven before stuffing.
If you have trouble finding crumbled goat cheese, you can purchase a 4-oz [115-g] log of goat cheese and pull or cut off small bits or crumbles yourself. Freezing the cheese for 10 minutes prior to crumbling is very helpful.
FIRE-ROASTED STUFFED PUMPKINS
SERVES 4
4 small pie pumpkins (1 to 2 lb [455 to 910 g] each)
1 Tbsp olive oil
1/2 lb [225 g] bulk Italian sausage (mild or spicy)
1/2 medium sweet onion, chopped
2 tsp garlic powder
4 cups [480 g] cubed corn bread, homemade (page 92) or store-bought (or use 4 corn muffins)
11/2 cups [120 g] shredded Gruyère cheese
1/2 cup [60 g] crumbled goat cheese
2 Tbsp chopped fresh chives
1 Tbsp chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
Salt and freshly ground pepper
SPECIAL EQUIPMENT FOR OUTDOOR COOKING:
About 30 charcoal briquettes or chunks of lump hardwood charcoal, plus more as needed
To pre-roast the pumpkins, preheat the oven to 350°F [180°C]. Place the pumpkins directly on the oven rack and roast until their skins are slightly darkened and shiny, and the flesh is more tender, about 35 minutes. Remove them from the oven and cool until they're easily handled (watch out for hot steam!). If you're going to roast the stuffed pumpkins indoors, leave the oven at 350°F [180°C].
Meanwhile, make the filling. In a large skillet, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Add the sausage, onion, and garlic powder and cook, breaking the sausage up into crumbles as you go, until it is browned and cooked through and the onion is soft, 6 to 8 minutes. Remove from the heat. Add the corn bread, Gruyère, goat cheese, and herbs to the pan and toss to mix evenly. Taste and season the stuffing with salt and pepper (it probably won't need much salt).
Cut the top off of each pre-roasted pumpkin (as you would for a jack-o'-lantern) and set the tops aside. Scoop out the seeds and fibrous flesh with your hands or a large spoon, leaving the smooth, edible flesh intact. Season the insides of the pumpkins with salt and pepper, about 1/4 tsp of each per pumpkin.
Fill the hollowed-out pumpkins with the corn bread and sausage mixture and replace the tops of the pumpkins. At this point, your pumpkins can be transported to a campsite for fire-roasting, or you can roast them right in your oven.
To roast the pumpkins in the oven, place them on large baking sheets. (If you prefer, you can cool the pumpkins completely and store them in the refrigerator for up to 1 day prior to cooking them.) Roast in the preheated oven until the flesh is tender, the filling is heated through, and the cheese is gooey, about 30 minutes.
If you're cooking over a campfire, start the fire and add your coals about 30 minutes prior to cooking the pumpkins, so you'll be cooking over hot coals as opposed to a roaring fire, which would overcook them (for directions on how to start a campfire, see page 21). Add enough coals to create a surface area large enough to cook all of the pumpkins.
Double-wrap the stuffed pumpkins in foil, so they are completely sealed. Mound the hot briquettes or coals and bury the foil-wrapped pumpkins in them so just the top third is exposed. If you're using hardwood charcoal, be sure to add more charcoal occasionally to keep the coals hot. Cook the pumpkins until the cheese is gooey and the centers are hot, about 30 minutes.
Transfer the pumpkins to serving plates or platters. I put out a pile of spoons and let everyone dig in.
TIP Want to make it vegetarian? Swap out the sausage for some cooked lentils and mushrooms, and add a couple extra handfuls of crumbled goat cheese.
Starting with very dry skin is the trick to successful crispy-skinned fish, no matter what type you're cooking. By leaving the fish, uncovered, in the refrigerator for 1 hour prior to cooking, the skin dries out and you eliminate the chance of it steaming, ripping, or shredding in the pan. What you get instead is flat, crispy, and very delicious skin — potato chip skin — every time. Also, by getting the pan smoking hot before you heat the oil and cook the fish, you are temporarily creating a nonstick pan — a fantastic trick when you need such a pan but don't have one. I learned this from an issue of Bon Appétit magazine and use it all the time for my fish recipes. As much as I love my cast-iron skillet, it's not ideal for cooking fish, as the flaky flesh and fragile skin may tear on a cast-iron surface, no matter how much oil or butter is added. And since achieving a deeply crispy and browned crust is very difficult in nonstick pans, this trick, designed for stainless pans, was a game changer.
CRISPY-SKIN TROUT WITH LEMON BROWN BUTTER SAUCE
SERVES 4
4 skin-on trout fillets, 4 to 6 oz [115 to 170 g] each (or another fish of your choosing)
3 Tbsp canola oil
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1/2 cup [110 g] unsalted butter
2 Tbsp fresh lemon juice, plus 1 lemon, sliced (optional) for garnish
2 Tbsp capers
1 Tbsp chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley, plus more for garnish
1 1/2 Tbsp finely chopped fresh chives, plus more for garnish
One hour before cooking, place your trout fillets on a plate, skin-side up, and transfer them to the refrigerator. Do not cover; you want to leave the skin side exposed to dry out.
Preheat the oven to 170°F [75°C]. Place a large stainless-steel skillet over high heat until screaming hot, which takes about 11/2 minutes. Add 1 Tbsp of oil and 1 tsp of salt to the pan. When the oil is smoking, remove the pan from the heat and, using a handful of paper towels and some tongs (if needed), wipe the oil and salt all over the surface of the pan.
Season both sides of each fillet with a pinch of salt (not too much, as the capers are salty) and some pepper and set aside. Place the oiled skillet over medium-high heat. Add 1 more Tbsp of oil to the pan, and when it shimmers, carefully lay two fillets, skin-side down, in the pan side by side (don't stand too close, to avoid getting splattered). Using a fish spatula (or a large spatula), apply firm pressure to the fillets until they lay flat in the pan.
Cook until the flesh is nearly opaque and almost completely cooked through, 4 to 5 minutes. Carefully flip the fillets and cook for just 30 seconds more. Transfer the cooked fish to a platter or baking sheet and place in the warm oven.
Add the remaining 1 Tbsp of oil to the pan and repeat the cooking process with the remaining 2 fish fillets. Transfer to the baking sheet or plate in the oven.
Wipe out the pan and allow it to cool down for a few minutes before placing it over medium-low heat. Add the butter. Cook for 3 to 4 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the butter melts and begins to brown and smell slightly nutty. Watch it closely now, and as soon as the butter begins to turn a golden amber color, remove the pan from the heat. Allow the browned butter to cool for 5 minutes. Stir in the lemon juice, capers, parsley, and chives. Season lightly with salt and pepper.
Remove the fish from the oven and arrange on a serving platter, flesh-side up. Pour the brown butter sauce over the top. Or, alternatively, nestle the fish down into the pan with the sauce, skin-side up, and serve it that way. Garnish with lemon slices and extra chopped herbs, if desired.
Someone told me that the only real way to make pesto is to chop all the ingredients by hand. I hand chop my pesto sauces on the regular now, as I favor the varied, rougher textures. Instead of a homogeneous, one-dimensional paste of a sauce (which I also like, for the record), hand chopping gives you a multitextured mixture that makes for a more interesting eating experience. If you want to use a food processor, though, you can do that instead.
This recipe is traditional, save for the addition of fresh scallions and black walnuts. You can find scallions growing wild all over the area where I grew up, and I love the oniony bite they add to the sauce here. Black walnuts are a beloved Appalachian ingredient, but if you have trouble finding them, regular walnuts are wonderful as well.
PASTA WITH HAND-CHOPPED SCALLION & BLACK WALNUT PESTO
SERVES 4 TO 8
Salt
1/2 cup [60 g] shelled black walnuts, plus more (optional), chopped, for garnish
1/3 cup [40 g] pine nuts, plus more (optional), chopped, for garnish
3 garlic cloves
5 cups [60 g] packed fresh basil leaves
3 scallions (green parts only)
1 cup [30 g] grated Parmesan cheese, plus more (optional) for garnish
1/2 cup [120 ml] extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling
1 lb [455 g] pasta (any shape)
Bring a large pot of well-salted water to a boil.
Set a small skillet over medium heat and add the walnuts and pine nuts. Toast, stirring occasionally, until you can smell them, 3 to 4 minutes. Remove from the heat.
On a large cutting board, chop the garlic along with about one-third of the basil leaves and 1 scallion. When these are roughly chopped, add another third of the basil and another scallion, and continue chopping. Add the rest of the basil and the remaining scallion, continuing until the mixture is finely chopped. Add half of the walnuts, pine nuts, and cheese, chop coarsely, and then add the remaining walnuts, pine nuts, and cheese, and chop until fine.
Transfer the pesto to a small bowl and stir in the olive oil to moisten. Season with 1/2 tsp salt and serve right away or refrigerate until needed, for up to 5 days. Cook the pasta according to the package directions, reserving 1 cup [240 ml] of the cooking water. Remove from the heat, drain the pasta, and return it to the pot. Toss the hot pasta with the pesto, using as much or as little as you like. Add the reserved cooking water, a little at a time, to moisten the mixture, if needed. Serve the pasta family style or in individual portions, garnished with extra cheese, walnuts, pine nuts, a drizzle of olive oil, and anything else that strikes your fancy.
These are the quintessential campfire treat. This recipe falls easily into the category of nostalgic foods that never wear out their welcome. My recipe dresses tradition up a bit by using homemade graham crackers and marshmallows, as there is truly no comparison between store-bought graham crackers and crackers you've mixed, spiced, rolled, and baked in your own kitchen. But you can certainly swap out either of these homemade items for their store-bought counterparts and carry on with the recipe. The marshmallows are very easy to make; they just take some time to set up and freeze, so a bit of preplanning is necessary. This recipe can easily be multiplied or divided. In the name of accessibility, it is for "indoor s'mores," but it works just as well if you happen to have a campfire going nearby.
S'MORES, FROM SCRATCH
MAKES 8
FOR THE VANILLA BEAN MARSHMALLOWS
Three 1/4-oz [7-g] packages unflavored gelatin (about 3 Tbsp)
1 1/2 cups [300 g] granulated sugar
1 cup [320 g] light corn syrup
1/4 tsp salt
2 tsp vanilla bean paste (or the seeds of 2 vanilla beans)
Confectioners' sugar, for dusting
8 Tbsp [140 g] chocolate hazelnut spread, such as Nutella
16 graham crackers (recipe follows)
SPECIAL EQUIPMENT FOR THE MARSHMALLOWS:
Candy or deep fry thermometer
To make the marshmallows, combine the gelatin with 1/2 cup [120 ml] of cold water in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment (or you can do this in a large bowl with a handheld mixer). Set aside to bloom.
Combine the granulated sugar, corn syrup, salt, and another 1/2 cup [120 ml] of water in a small pan. Cook over medium heat until the sugar has totally dissolved. Increase the heat to medium-high and cook until the mixture registers 240°F [115°C] on a candy thermometer. Remove the pan from the heat. Pour the mixture into the large bowl with the gelatin and add the vanilla bean paste. On high speed, whip the mixture until it is very thick and fluffy, about 8 minutes.
Using a fine-mesh strainer, dust a 9 by 13 in [23 by 33 cm] ovenproof glass or ceramic baking dish with confectioners' sugar. Pour the marshmallow mixture into the dish in a smooth layer, and dust with another thin layer of confectioners' sugar. Let this sit for at least 8 hours, uncovered, at room temperature, to allow the mixture to dry out.
Using a sharp knife, slice the mixture into individual marshmallows; I like 2 by 2 in [5 by 5 cm] squares. You can do this right in the dish. They are ready to eat at this point.
To toast the marshmallows indoors, transfer the marshmallows to a baking sheet and place it in the freezer until the marshmallows are firm to the touch, at least 2 hours. Preheat the broiler on high, and broil the frozen marshmallows directly under the heat until they're golden brown on top and gooey in the centers, about 30 seconds. Or, you can use a kitchen torch, if you've got one. I like to torch my marshmallows right on the baking sheet, lightly browning the tops and sides and allowing the interiors to soften. If you use this method, or you toast the marshmallows over a campfire (see below), you do not need to freeze them first because you have more control over the cooking process.
To toast the marshmallows over a campfire, pierce each marshmallow with the sharp tip of a long stick or skewer, and toast them near the flames until they're browned and bubbly, about 10 seconds.
To assemble the s'mores, smear 1 Tbsp of chocolate hazelnut spread on one side of each of 8 graham crackers. Top with a toasted marshmallow and then another graham cracker and enjoy right away.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Smoke, Roots, Mountain, Harvest"
by .
Copyright © 2019 Lauren McDuffie.
Excerpted by permission of Chronicle Books LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Introduction, 12,
How to Use This Book, 14,
Larder & Kitchen Tools, 15,
Good to Know, 20,
A Quick Wine Pairing Guide, 23,
Fall,
Ghost Stories, 26,
Far from the Tree, 40,
Forest Walk, 56,
The Homeplace, 72,
Noble Rot, 88,
Winter,
The Wilderness Road, 104,
Nora's Kitchen, 116,
Apothecary, 126,
Evergreen, 136,
Moonshine, 146,
Spring,
Country Roads, 158,
Sun Shower, 170,
The Friday Night Jamboree, 180,
Kentucky Rain, 188,
Summer,
Riverbend, 200,
Bourbon Country, 210,
Strawberries & Summertime, 220,
Harvest & Honey, 230,
The Sweetest Winds, 240,
FEEDback, 250,
Acknowledgments, 250,
Index, 251,