The Impatient Chef's Moist Cornbread Recipe

20 years ago, I stopped at a downtown Portland Italian restaurant, the name of which I have forgotten, and ordered a $20.00 ravioli dish that had precisely 3 raviolis in it. They were extremely good raviolis, but I left hungry. In the lead up to the insufficient pasta, however, arrived side dishes. Two of them, if memory serves. One of them was cornbread.

I hate cornbread, or, more appropriately, I hate dry cornbread.

The small dish of creamy, corny delight that arrived more resembled a custard than a bread (or cake), and demolished my expectations of what cornbread could be. Intrigued, I began sampling cornbreads from other restaurants from time to time. Invariably, however, when the dishes were cleared away from the table, there would be one sad piece of cornbread with a single bite out of it sitting on an abandoned plate.

I hate dry cornbread.

I did not set out to recreate the recipe from that Italian restaurant, rather, I wanted to make ordinary cornbread less Death Valley, and more Olympic Peninsula. My first decision was to add creamed corn, and the second was to add more eggs. Lastly, I made the batter slightly thinner than a traditional cornbread batter.  What I ended up with was a nicely moist corn bread.

My first piece of advice is to not over-bake it. My second is to use a cast iron pan in which to bake it. My third is to not use too small of a pan. You don’t want to make it too thick because that requires longer baking, and more likelihood of dryness. 

Ingredients:

• 1 can creamed corn 
• 3 tbsp butter, melted 
• 1 1/2 cup corn flour
• 1 1/2 cup AP flour
• 1 tbsp baking powder* 
• 1 tsp kosher salt 
• 1 cup milk* 
• 4 large eggs 
• 4 tbsp sugar 
• More butter for greasing pan 

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.   Place a 10" cast iron skillet inside.
2. In a large mixing bowl, combine the dry ingredients. 
3. In a smaller mixing bowl, beat the eggs, then add the milk, and combine. Next, add the creamed corn, and the melted butter. Stir to combine. 
4. Add the wet mixture to the dry, and combine. 
5. Get the cast iron skillet out of the oven, and carefully grease with butter. Add the batter, and place into the oven. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, or until the outside edge gets brown spots, and an inserted toothpick comes out clean. 
6. Serve with butter, and / or honey if desired. 

*To substitute buttermilk for the whole milk, use 1 tbsp baking soda instead of the baking powder. Whole buttermilk is preferred to low fat.

The Impatient Chef Presents: Cadillac Ham with Grits and Red Eye Gravy

Swimming in Coffee!

The Impatient Chef has been experimenting with southern cooking for a few years, having watched Sean Brock on Parts Unknown and a few other cooking shows. A Cajun seafood boil at a local restaurant called “My Brother’s Crawfish” also played a big role in nurturing the southern foor urge.  

Sean Brock is a southern chef who has taken southern cuisine back to its roots and to new heights. The Impatient Chef suggests seeking his cookbooks out. 

 

Brewing up a new take on an old dish.

The Impatient Chef likes to, as it were, fiddle with traditions while culinary Rome burns. The following recipe is an example. What would happen if the ante on the ham was, as it were, upped.

The word “Cadillac” is used mostly with cocktails to denote expensive drinks that use premium spirits. The Impatient Chef once bought a Cadillac Margarita at a local upscale restaurant. It was very good.

With that in mind, The Impatient Chef presents: Cadillac Ham with Grits and Red Eye Gravy. 

Feeds 2.  

Ingredients:

• 1/2 lb slab of prosciutto, about 3/8” thick.
• 2 eggs 
• 1/2 cup Anson Mills Coarse White Grits 
• 2 cups water 
• 1/2 tsp kosher salt 
• 1/2 tsp white pepper 
• 3/4 cup freshly brewed coffee 
• 2 dashes cayenne pepper 
• vegetable oil 
• olive oil 
• 1 tbsp butter 

Directions:

1. Anson Mills Coarse Grits require an overnight soak and careful cooking the next morning. The Impatient Chef grits his teeth, and uses these very patient grits because they are really good. You will find the recipe for making them here: https://ansonmills.com/recipes/489?recipes_by=grain. If you do not have the patience, use Bob’s Red Mill White Grits because they are a close second. Impatience ≠ bad food. For Bob’s Red Mill Grits, add the salt and pepper about half way through cooking. 
   
2. While the grits are cooking, cube the prosciutto. 
   
   
   
   
   
3. Make coffee. Set aside 3/4 cup. Add 2 dashes cayenne pepper to it.
4. When the grits are almost done, add the salt and pepper.  Stir.  
   Note: If you use the Anson Mills grits, wait until they are just about done to start frying the prosciutto. They take about 50 minutes if you follow the directions, and about an hour and a half if you don't. 
5. Heat an iron skillet on medium high, and add a couple teaspoons of vegetable oil, or, better yet, bacon grease.
6. Fry the prosciutto until the sides are browned like almost-done bacon. Do not fry it crisp because it will become too hard, but you want to have fond on on the bottom of the pan to deglaze with the coffee. Remove from pan when browned. 
7. Pour the coffee into the skillet and stir with a wooden spoon to deglaze. Work the bottom of the pan with the spoon until the fond is suspended in the coffee. Turn off the heat.  It is now red eye gravy. 
8. Fry the eggs over easy, or however you like them in a couple of teaspoons of olive oil, or, better yet, bacon grease. 
9. In two bowls, put half of the grits into each, followed by about a teaspoon of butter. Spoon on the fried prosciutto, and then lay a fried egg on top. Pour half of the red eye gravy onto each. 

Enjoy!

The Impatient Chef

Visit my photography website at www.quaygang.com

The Impatient Chef Writes a Poem

I haven't written a poem for a few years, but I had a the inspiration a while ago,  I sat on the idea for this one for a while, and then worked on it slowly.  I think it's finished.  So, The Impatient Chef presents...

Whackety Chop

Winter wind swirls at the country cafe

With tall trees in the back, a parking lot, 

And a chicken coop full of laying hens, 

Making breakfast for the regulars.

She twirls in the kitchen while raindrops ,like

Bumble bees at full speed, splat on the windows.

With two spatulas she makes omelets, 

Whackety chop, clanging on the hot grill.

“Order up!” she calls out above the noise.

The trees bend, morning regulars murmur.

The roof creaks.  Hens squawk.  Eyes wide as the storm.  

A fox is near, nose points to the hen house.

He is wet.  And so cold.  The hens are dry.  

Lightning sizzles.  She cracks eggs in a bowl,

She beats them with a fork, swirling like leaves.

Whackety chop.  Eggs on the grill, ham

Hash browns, bacon, biscuits, chicken fried steak.  

“Order up!” she calls above the plates.

The hens lay eggs, and lay more tomorrow.

 Pigs are fully committed to the meal.

Their smells intermingle on the hot grill, 

And with coffee with cream, and some sugar.

Eyes glow in the cafe window’s soft light.

The wind howls so that the fox won’t have to. 

The coop roof lifts off, and sails through the storm, 

The chickens look up, understanding ham.  

The Impatient Chef Recipe: PA Dutch Red Beet Eggs

The Impatient Chef Recipe: Pennsylvania Dutch Red Beet Eggs

A Jar Full of Home (a quilt made by my grandmother is in the background)

I grew up in Central Pennsylvania.  Specifically, the Berks County / Lebanon County area.  There the Amish drove their "horse and buggies" on the country roads, the history was just about as long as you can get in the New World (unless you're Native American), and the Pennsylvania Dutch kept alive some of the old ways well into the 20th century. The one clarification that I have about the PA Dutch, of which I am one (on my mother's side of the family), is that we are not Dutch.  Our heritage is German.  The German language that my ancestors arrived with was frozen in time, and did not change in he ways that languages do where they are natively spoken.  Like the tortoises of the Galapagos, we evolved in isolation, and differently.  At least, the language did.  Over time, the irregular verbs disappeared, Deutsch (German) became Dietsch; tag (day) became dawg; and so on, and so forth.  I like to think of the PA Dutch language as Hillbilly German.  Most Americans did not know the Germans as Deutsch, but they knew the Dutch as the Dutch, so we became the Pennsylvania Dutch because the names Dietsch and Dutch were so close.

Around the time of World War II, the PA Dutch stopped passing down their Germanic language to their children.  Many of the more germanic sounding names became less so.  The anti-German sentiment of wartime America sent the PA Dutch into hiding from their heritage.  Now, there are less than 50,000 of us left.  I don't speak the language.  I know phrases, and individual words.  That's all.

One of the things I want to do as The Impatient Chef is to pass along some of my family recipes before they disappear.  This is the first.

The recipe goes thusly:

NOTE:  These are not pickled eggs.  You can not treat them as such.  They must be  refrigerated.

You will need a clean 1-gallon wide-mouthed jar.  Glass is necessary.  Do not use a plastic tub.  

Ingredients:

2 dozen eggs

4 good sized beets, peeled and sliced about 1/4” thick

2 1/4 quarts beet juice from boiling the beets (approx.)

2 cups white vinegar

1/2 cup sugar

1 tsp salt

We Got the Beets!

Tip on eggs:  fresh eggs do not peel easily.  Buy your eggs a few weeks in advance, and leave them in the refrigerator.  

The night before, hard boil the eggs.  A good method is to lay them in the pot first, and then cover them with water.  The water should be about an inch over the eggs.  Bring the pot to a boil without a lid.  When the water is at a rolling boil, cover the pot, and turn off the burner.  let the pot sit for 10 minutes.

After 10 minutes, drain the water, and refill with cold water, and drain again.  Repeat this for 3 to 4 cycles.  After that, refill the pot with water and add ice.  Use enough to bring the temperature of the water down rapidly.   After a few minutes, drain again, and refrigerate the eggs overnight. 

The next day, cook the beets as follows:

Sliced Up

In a large stock pot, boil the sliced beets in at least 3 quarts of water.  While they are boiling, peel the eggs, and cover them with water.  Boil the beets until they are tender.  Then, remove them from the pot, and let them cool.  While they are cooling, measure out 1 1/4 quarts of the beet juice.  Reserve the rest in a separate container.  Return the 1 1/4 quarts of beet juice to the pot (or a large mixing bowl), and stir in the vinegar and sugar until the sugar is dissolved.  Taste.  It should not be too bitter.  Add more vinegar and sugar if necessary in the same proportions.  

Ready to Pour.

In the gallon sized jar, layer the beets and eggs in the jar.  Top it off with the beet juice.  In the unlikely event that there is not enough, top it off with some of the reserved juice.  Refrigerate for a week before digging in.

Red through to the Yokes

Impatient Chef Tip:  For peeling too fresh eggs.  If your eggs have not aged for a few weeks in the fridge, and removing the shells also removes large chunks of the egg white, you can use a spoon to get the egg out of the shell.  Keep a bowl of water nearby.  Thoroughly crack the shell, and peel off the area of shell at the rounder end.  That's where the air bubble usually resides.  Carefully remove the exposed, thin membrane between the shell and the egg.  Wet the egg in the water, and inset the spoon between the membrane and the egg white.  Carefully work it around the egg.  Your eggs still won't be perfect, but you will lose much less of the whites, and it won't take hours.  

The source for this tip, as well as the egg cooking method, is Gaia Quay.