Your Pig Oughta Be In Pictures

I have been cooking, eating, and writing, but not posting.

A big project is afoot ... and possibly you could help.

I am working on an anthology of BBQ Pig signs in the South. It's a little creative essay, a little photo essay, a little history meets Southern gothic, and all me.

Do you have an image that you'd like to contribute? Then here are the particulars:

1. It needs to be of the establishment's sign itself.
2. The establishment needs to be in the South.
3. The sign needs to have a pig on it.
4. Please include how you'd like the photo credit to read, as well as the city, state of where the sign is located.
5. Please hurry. I'm furiously compiling the anthology due in less than a month.
6. If you'd like to contribute, please comment here with an email address where I can reach you, and we'll take it from there ...

THANK you!!

Turnip Chronicles II: Resigned Redemption

By Stephanie Burt

[fade in]

Woman #1 in comfortable clothes opens fridge and pulls out turnips. They have had tops removed ...

[flashback]

Woman #1 holds hand over cast iron skillet, then adjusts heat, pours a decent splash of olive oil into pan, then tosses chopped greens from cutting board into pan. Greens turn vibrant color. Woman #1 smiles, adds a dash of salt, some sliced grape tomatoes, and a beaten egg. Scene fades ...

Scene 2

Woman #1 (mumbling): OK, treat them just like potatoes. We'll see ...

Woman turns on water, scrubs each turnip under spigot, then turns off water and quarters each small, white veggie. Meanwhile, she turns away and hits the preheat button on the oven.

She opens cabinet above her head, pulls out cranberry-colored Pyrex dish (popular in 1998) and fills with diced turnips. Sprinkles with herbs from herb shelf, drizzles with olive oil, then tosses. Washes her hands, then grabs dish and places in the oven. Leaves room ...

Scene 3

Woman #1 walks back into room and opens oven. Calm. Grabs potholder, pulls out dish, sitting it on top of stove. She peers into it, then hits "cancel" on stove buttons.

Woman #1: OK, already better. No burning. Let's see how you taste -- chicken makes everything better.

Woman #1 pokes turnip with fork, piercing it, then brings it to her mouth, pausing. She blows on the veggie, browned on one side and soft, then takes a bite, reacting to the hot.

Woman #1: OK. Not bad. That'll do, pig. That'll do.

Woman #1 looks off in distance with a faint recognition ... [thinking] Have I heard that line before?

[fade out]

This has been a S. Burt plagiarized production.

Making Bacon ... Literally

I've been a busy gal as of late, but please refrain from using the term "bringing home the bacon."

Instead, I've actually been making bacon.

This is a new level. By that I mean the gateway drug was making homemade soap, then jam, then homemade wine and blackberry cordial, then on to pickles and now ... bacon. Curing meat ("ooooooh" my inner chemist cooed).

Me & My Bacon. Image by Forrest Clonts

Granted, I don't know how much I will do this moving forward, but I was not going to pass up the opportunity to learn, especially from such a talented meat curer as Tim Peters. And it was fun! Curry, fig, fenugreek and sorghum bacon ... I'll let you know how it tastes when it comes back from the smoker in a couple of weeks.

Until then, read my blog for The Local Palate here. Then get adventurous in your own lab ... uh, I mean kitchen.

A Non-Gender Specific Green Bean Casserole

My mom's explanation for The Green Bean Casserole is the following:

"I know that it's not that exciting, honey, but men just love it."

So we have GBC at every holiday. And my dad and brother-in-law look forward to it. I'm not going to delve into the gender-specific nature of this comment, but I guess she's cooked it a lot longer than I have, so I'll leave it at that.

Still, it's definitely not something that excites me all that much. Well, besides the French Fried onions on top ... so I went to the Vintage Kitchen for a suitable replacement that wouldn't have anyone grumbling at the table, no matter the gender.

For my vegetarian sister, I'm serving the bacon on the side for individual serving.

Click here for the complete column, and enjoy!

Recipe from the Monticello Cookbook

You Know What is Good?

I am Tired. Weeknight tired. Although the Super Bowl of cooking is coming up (read "Thanksgiving"), I am creating simplicity for the additions to our table. Buttermilk Lemon-Lime Pound Cake. Roasted Brussell Sprouts with Bacon and Onion. That's stuff that is easy, or at least comfortable for me to execute. I always say -- don't use this day to whip out the recipe you wish you knew how to cook. Just be thankful for food, family, friends.

Did I mention food? Well, here are some of the foods I'm thankful for ...

-- the loaded baked potato at The Royal American
-- avocado smoothies with local honey
-- shoepeg corn
-- fresh, amazing October beans from Rosebank CSA
-- Roots Ice Cream
-- oh yeah, King of Pops too
-- Hilton Head Popcorn
-- Cardinal Gin
-- soda water
-- a roasted chicken on a cold night
-- pita bread, warm and dipped in tzatziki
-- banana pudding, from my mom's table
-- local fish, local shrimp, local oysters

... and friends and family to enjoy all of this with ...

The Turnip Chronicles I: Epic Fail

Screenplay by Stephanie Burt

[fade in]

A woman in black stilettoes and pencil skirt comes out of a local business with a resuable grocery bag as the sun is setting behind the building. She opens the back car door, sitting the bag on the back seat, and excitedly rifles through the contents. Her face falls when she spies something in the bag, and she abruptly sits it in the floorboard, shuts the door, climbs back in the driver's seat and drives off.

[cut to the interior of a house, a kitchen, very small but filled with modern appliances]

Scene 1

Woman in knee-length boots and dress opens the fridge and pulls out a bunch of turnips, green tops still intact, and places them on the cutting board. She then turns, hits the preheat button on the stove, then exits the scene.

Scene 2

Woman in toile-patterned pajama pants and tank top walks into the frame and makes a beeline for the Charles Shaw merlot on the edge of the counter. She takes off the wine saver top, opens cabinet, pulls down a glass and pours wine as she looks at the turnips on the cutting board. She takes a big swig. That's right, swig. Not sip. Then she pulls out a half sheet pan from the bottom of the oven.

Woman #1: I hate this drawer [struggling]

She sits cookie sheet on top of stove. She then turns to turnips, washing carefully, trimming greens and discarding, then takes out her off-brand chef's knife and slices turnips ultra thin, taking slices and putting them in a bowl. Tosses slices with olive oil and garlic salt and garam masala, then arranges turnip slices on cookie sheet. Opens oven door, slides cookie sheet in oven, then closes door. Walks out of frame.

Scene #3

[oven timer beeping]

Woman #1: Ok, let's check this out. The smell is what I remember, but I'm hoping for the best.

Woman opens door. Steam and smoke billow out. Woman feebly waves pot holder in defense.

[smoke detector starts screeching]

Woman #1: Alright! alright! [waving pot holder wildly above her head in direction of smoke detector].

She returns her attention to the oven, using the same potholder to quickly remove the sheet pan, sit it on top of the oven, and then push some buttons that turn the oven off.

Woman #1: [large sigh] These turnips were picked in vain! [camera zooms in toward pan]

Woman tilts pan over the trash can. A few chips fall into the can, but most  of the turnip chips stick and she is forced to set pan back down on top of the stove.

Fade to black [literally]

The Turnip Chronicles II -- Coming Soon.

Vintage Kitchen for OKRA

I am so thrilled to be able to announce this: I have a food column.

While other middle school girls were descending into major crushes of New Kids on the Block, I was beginning to read Kathleen Purvis (I liked music but I didn't wallpaper my room with pics like one of my friends did). Purvis just happened to be the food editor of my local paper, but she was funny and informed and very honest, and I liked her. She was my food writer, my first food writer, though it was later that I realized that she is a really good and respected food writer. In short, she is beloved.

Well, today, I think back on that middle school girl. I have my own food column, which is different than just writing about food. A column is my personal voice, my personal platform, and I am happy that it has landed at OKRA.

My headshot for The Vintage Kitchen. Image by Leslie McKellar.

Click here to read my first full article as the "Vintage Kitchen" columnist for OKRA, an online magazine of the Southern Food and Beverage Museum. Thanks to the mighty and magical photographer Leslie McKellar who is my friend and generously shot this piece. She makes me look good. But the food is the thing; it's always the thing, and writing about it makes me happy. Feeding you makes me happy too. Or just talking about how you feed others, so never stop telling me why you like it.