Lunch For Two

A Yankee Boy Down South

My friend Jon, you now know him as Big Daddy, has been visiting the South quite a bit in recent years and has taken a shine to it.  He's been keeping a journal of his impressions about the places he visits and I think his observations would make for some book.  The following is something I asked Jon to write after seeing his photos of the 211 Main Street Restaurant and Bakery in Lavonia, Georgia.  Without further ado, here's Jon Tomlinson.

About 10 years ago, my mom and her then common-law-husband (now legal) moved down to Anderson, South Carolina from Michigan.  Anderson is located in the Upstate region, the northwest corner of South Carolina.  While I've been to most places in the US of A, I had never really explored the states north of Florida.  Now, whenever I go down to visit Mom and her now-husband, part of the fun is exploring all these new places.  South Carolina can be a little old-fashioned.  When my brother first came to visit, he asked me why there were so many Japanese restaurants around.  I couldn't figure out what he was talking about since there aren't many (if any) sushi restaurants in the area.  I finally realized that he was referring to all the whitewashed squat cement buildings with large red circles painted on them.  What he didn't know was that these weren't symbols of Japanese pride in rural South Carolina, but are meant to denote places where liquor is sold, without overtly saying so.

On my most recent trip down South in April, we did our usual day trips to discover long-forgotten railroad towns and "antiques" stores, this time going across the border to nearby Georgia.  While we were in Lavonia, Georgia visiting one of our favorite disheveled "antiques" stores, we asked where we could get a late lunch as we were all starving after a tough day spent combing through junk (I mean treasures).  As a New Yorker, I've learned to be cautious about asking a Southerner what I believe to be a simple question.  A question that I think warrants a quick, one-minute answer can sometimes result in a circuitous half-hour response during which you begin to forget what the original question was in the first place.  (If I were back home in NYC, I'd probably lose it with impatience, but I'm usually up for it when I'm down South because I'm on vacation and what's the rush anyway?)  As expected, the older ladies who ran the Lavonia Antiques Market pulled out various menus and discussed the merits of each in their Southern drawls, wondering aloud if this one or that one was open on this particular day, what their specials were, etc.  I've learned to be patient, polite and friendly during these long monologues in an attempt to dispel the stereotype that all "Yankees" are unfriendly and in a hurry.  While I was drifting off waiting for them to get to the end of their oration, I heard the word "Mennonites."  Mennonites?!  I perked up since that's not a word I usually hear down there (let alone a cuisine I'd ever thought very much about).  This was beginning to sound interesting!  They said there was a new small restaurant down on the main street.  This town of Lavonia only has a handful of stores (one of which is a guns & ammo store) so I couldn't imagine where it was.  I wondered what Mennonite food tasted like.  We had to try it.

The Ladies of Lavonia couldn't remember the name of the restaurant, only that it had "Main Street" in it .  This resulted in another long discussion about its location and name, but we finally broke free and it didn't take us long to find 211 Main Street Restaurant & Bakery.  When we walked in I realized we had found the type of place you always hope to discover in this age of fast-food chains, but never do.  Everything in the spacious cafe (including the tables) had been painted a cheerful mint green and sunshine yellow and there were ceiling fans whirring overhead on this already sultry day.  On each table was a small bouquet of fresh flowers.  In the display case were beautiful pies and massive homemade cakes.  One of the owners served us and I complimented her on the cafe and how it looked.  She was delighted and said they'd worked really hard to paint everything and make the place special.  With all the ladies dressed in typical Mennonite garb, I felt like I had wandered onto a Little House on the Prairie set.  My childhood fantasy had always been that I would grow up to be a pioneer.  Needless to say, I was in heaven.

All of the food we ate that day couldn't have been better -- homemade iced tea, savory pressed sandwiches and, yes, the perfect piece of coconut cake.

The 211 Main Street Restaurant & Bakery is located at yup, you guessed it in Lavonia, GA 30553, (706) 356-2877.

Oh Crikey, Not Another Zucchini?

Samantha and Duncan, who are globe trotting right now, sweetly donated their family's half-share in a CSA to me for the duration of the summer.  Two weeks ago, I was allotted three zucchinis.  This past week, eight.  Does that mean I'll be up to 40 or 50 by mid-August?  Given how prolific the zucchini plant is, it's possible.

Now, I'm going to give you a recipe with, maddening I know, no specific quantities.  You'll thank me later however because it's a quick, delicious way to treat some of those zillions of zucchini.  When you're ankle deep in zucchini, it pays to be able to improvise.

Imagine, for a moment, that you are illiterate.  How would you convey the quantities in a recipe?  My mother prepared this dish for me the other night and I asked her for the recipe.  She stared at me for a moment and then recounted a story about the woman who was my second mother when I was a child, Chedliyah.  We were living in Tunis because my father was working for the Smithsonian on the archaeological dig at Carthage.  My mother worked in the Smithsonian's office and so Chedliyah was hired to look after me and my brother who were too young for school at the time.  On market days, my mother would give Chedliyah money to buy provisions for the household.  She was illiterate, but because she was, Chedliyah's recall was perfect and crystal clear.  At the end of the day she would return to my mother the change from the day's shopping and describe every single transaction she'd made that day, specifying precisely which bills and coins had changed hands at each of her stops.  She had no idea whether she'd returned the correct change to my mother, so this was her accounting method.

Chedliyah cooked unimaginably good food and my mother learned a lot from her.  In order to convey the quantities of various ingredients in a given dish, Chedliyah would draw the side of her hand across her other arm in various spots anywhere from her fingers to her elbow, indicating ratios rather than precise quantities.  Remember this technique if you'd like to convey this recipe to someone else.

North African Zucchini

several zucchini, perhaps 4 to 6, small to medium
lots of garlic, maybe 5 cloves, put through a press
water
ground cumin, a hefty dose
paprika, a lot less than the cumin
chopped cilantro
a squirt of lemon juice
sea salt

Cut the zucchini in big chunks that are about 2" long.  Place in a medium-sized saucepan with the garlic, cumin, paprika and enough water to come half-way up the zucchini.  Cover and cook over medium-low heat until the zucchini are soft, but still intact.  Remove the zucchini with a slotted spoon and set aside.  Taste your sauce and add more garlic, cumin or paprika if you think it needs it.  Cook down the sauce, uncovered, over medium-low heat until it thickens somewhat.  Add salt to taste.  Put zucchini back in sauce and toss to coat.  Place in a bowl, add your squirt of lemon juice and sprinkle with cilantro.  Serve warm or at room temperature.

This topped by an egg fried in olive oil is an exquisite, and fast, meal.  I just tried it.  Yum.

Luscious Corn Pudding

I'd never made, let alone eaten, corn pudding until this past weekend.  I received a generous invitation to join friends at a luxurious house in the Hamptons, so I toted along my July issue of Gourmet to read on the two-hour Long Island Rail Road journey.  On page eight was a delicious sounding recipe for corn pudding with basil.  Well, as luck would have it we were unable to eat up all 15 ears of local sweet corn that we'd laid in for Saturday's dinner AND Jon, a.k.a. Big Daddy, had bought a big bunch of fresh basil for no reason other than that it looked "like a big bouquet."  Voila, the centerpiece of Sunday's lunch was determined.

Let me tell you that I'll be making this again and again over the summer, provided I can stand to have my oven on for an hour.  The results are well worth the heat in the kitchen.

Corn Pudding with Basil

4 cups corn (from 6 ears)*
1 cup packed fresh basil leaves, torn
3 Tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 Tablespoon sugar
1 cup milk
1 cup heavy cream
4 large eggs, lightly beaten
1/2 teaspoon salt

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Butter a 2 1/2-quart shallow baking dish.

To get the corn kernels off the cob, snap the ears in half, stand the half ears straight up on a cutting board and then run a paring knife, keeping it close to the cob (but not too close), down the length.  Collect the corn in a bowl and break up the chunks into smaller bits.  When you're done, take the cobs, and holding them over the bowl, run the back of the paring knife down the length of the cob to gather all the "corn milk."  (FYI, this is the technique you would use for a chowder too.)

Pulse half of corn in a food processor until coarsely chopped.  Transfer to a large bowl and stir in basil, flour, sugar, remaining corn, and salt.  Whisk in milk, cream, and eggs until combined.

Pour into baking dish and bake until center is just set, 45 minutes to 1 hour.  Let stand 15 minutes before serving.

*I prefer to use bi-color corn, which is often referred to as "peaches and cream" or "butter and sugar" corn.

This post is dedicated to the memory of Jordy who passed away this weekend.  He was a sweet and loyal friend to my friend Herb for 15 years.

Cherry Lime Rickey with a Kick

There used to be, way back when, a coffee shop at the corner of Broadway and Canal Street in Manhattan.  It was called Dave's Luncheonette and it was a favored hangout for Mudd Club denizens because it was open all night and served cheap, greasy breakfasts.  The club was shuttered after I'd been there only two or three times but the crusty coffee shop-cum-lounge managed to hold on for several more years.  One soupy hot day I wandered down to Dave's with Anna Domino, who practically lived at the Mudd Club, because she wanted a cherry lime rickey.  I was a fawning teenager and Anna was the essence of cool, so of course I ordered the drink too.  I was smitten, by the lime rickey because it was delicious and by Anna because she'd once again proven to me that she was just so, SO cool.

Dave's version of the drink consisted of a squirt of cherry syrup, a squeezed half lime and soda water, delivered to the thirsting customer in a 16 ounce styrofoam cup.  I have now tried cherry lime rickeys at probably a hundred different places, always trying to replicate that taste bud bang I had so many years ago on that sweltering New York corner.  (Yes, I've tried Tom's in Brooklyn but it didn't quite cut it.)  So I've taken to experimenting and I think I've hit upon a suitable substitute, not quite Dave's but it'll do.

Cherry Lime Rickey

for simple syrup:

1 cup sugar
1 cup water

Heat sugar and water in a small saucepan over medium low heat until all the sugar crystals have dissolved.  Allow syrup to cool.

for limeade:

juice from 7 limes
1 cup simple syrup
2 cups water

Combine all in a pitcher and chill.

for drink:

limeade
1 Tablespoon cherry liqueur*
soda water

Place 5 ice cubes in a 16 ounce highball glass.  Pour limeade into glass, leaving about 1 1/2 inches of space at top of glass.  Gently pour in cherry liqueur, which will sink to bottom of glass.  Top gently with soda water.  The result is a striated drink that is awfully pretty and turns a mauvy, pink color when stirred.  The limeade recipe is enough for about two mixed drinks.  Some vodka would probably be good in this too if you want to kick it up a notch.

*I used cherry liqueur from Clear Creek Distillery that I bought at Smith & Vine in Brooklyn.