Southern Ham Biscuits with Mustard & Maple Mayonnaise

Southern ham biscuits are one of those things I have often read about, but never experienced. According to one recipe I looked up, every Southern belle worth her salt has these in her armory and can whip them out at the least provocation. This here northern girl has never come within 3 states of them. Until recently (last year) I thought it was a biscuit with chopped up ham and cheese tossed into the batter and baked right in. (Which actually sounds like a good idea. Maybe I will make them northern ham biscuits. Just so we northerners aren't left behind in ham biscuits...) I believe I realized the error of my ham biscuit way while reading Martha Stewart Living or Bon Appetit. An article about tailgating at a steeplechase in Tennessee in the fall with pictures of delicately foggy mountains, tartan blankets, thermoses full of coffee, tea, or cocoa, and wellington boots. The sort of article you look at while eating your lunch of tuna fish sandwich at your quaintly tilted kitchen table (okay, broken table), while your kids badger you for more kool-aid and PBJ. And you think... If only I had southern ham biscuits in my armory, my life would involve more interesting food, grown up conversation, and tartan plaids. My inner preppy yuppie clamoring for expression.

Now, almost a year after reading about Southern ham biscuits, I have finally made my own. Really, they are just biscuits with ham and cheese shoved in them. But I decided to make them a little fussy. Rachel Ray suggest a drizzle of maple syrup. Southern living suggest blackberry maoynnaise (whaaa...?) Some other place suggest a thinly sliced piece of ham, fried crisp. I thought several different recipes sounded like just the ticket, so I made a conglomerated recipe. And they are good. Smokily sweet and tangy, with a sharp bite of cheddar and a flaky biscuit. With a star top and a flag toothpick thrown in for good measure.

First, the biscuits. If you have a good buttermilk biscuit recipe, use it. But mostly, you will want to use this recipe. Because it is good.

Biscuits

2 1/2 cups self rising flour*
2 tablespoon sugar
1/2 cup cold butter
1 1/4 cups buttermilk

*Self rising flour is available in most supermarkets, but if you don't feel like getting a specialty flour, just make your own, by adding 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder and 1/2 teaspoon of salt per cup of all purpose flour.

Whisk together flour and sugar. Roughly chop stick of butter. Dump it in. Using a pastry blender/cutter, cut the butter into the flour. (This could also be accomplished in a food processor if it wasn't late afternoon and the thought of washing your food processor seemed more than you could handle.)  Once the butter has been well chopped into the flour, stir in the buttermilk until a dough forms. Roll out dough on flour covered surface until 1/2 inch thick. Cut out 10-15 biscuits depending on the size of your cutter. (I like to cut them into 3 inch-ish squares, since it eliminates re-rolling the scraps. But occasionally, like the fourth of July, it seems worthwhile to have other shapes. To get a star top, means rolling thinner, using your star cookie cutter, and then re-rolling scraps and cutting the remainder into the same number of squares or circles.) Bake biscuits in 400 degree oven for 10 minutes.

Let biscuits cool. Or put the cheese on here, to make it melty.

Fry sliced ham, a minute or two per side until crispy. Slice cheddar cheese.

Mustard and Maple Mayonnaise

1/2 cup mayonnaise
2 tablespoons mustard
1 tablespoon maple syrup

Mix together. These measurements are approximate--make it sweeter (more maple syrup) or sharper (more mustard) to your liking.

Split cooled biscuits. Spread with mayonnaise mixture. Put a crisped slice of ham and a bit of cheese onto each biscuit and top with other biscuit half. Then spear with whatever toothpicks you have handy to keep them moral and upright.

And then eat one and think how lucky you are to be born in the land of the free where there is google to give you 100+ variations on southern ham biscuits!

Fingerlings Vinaigrette with sieved eggs and pickled celery

I know. Just the title is enough to scare off any sensible, dinner on the table in 30 minutes, kind of person. But it is basically just a layered potato salad. With a few semi-fancy garnishes. 

Fingerling potatoes are a bit expensive. Well compared to other potatoes. In our grocery stores, they are about $2 per pound. And when russets are often 40 cents a pound, it is hard for me to spend that much on special potatoes. So I just don't. I buy salt potatoes. Apparently these are a regional thing, indigenous to the Syracuse area. You get a four pound bag for $4, which means I can get two meals out of them. Much more reasonable. So I really don't know how this tastes with fingerling potatoes. But with salt potatoes, it is splendid. 

Just a side note: Salt potatoes are thin skinned potatoes, scrubbed clean  and cooked in a 1/4 pound (?) of salt per pot of water. After boiling, you toss them with butter. The skin sort of explodes in a salty, buttery way when you bite them, making you glad you live where you can buy these regularly. 

The sieved eggs. I thought this was weird and pointless sounding, but it is worth the few minutes time. The eggs become fluffy and light and rather un-hard boiled egg like. 

You push them through the sieve, yolk part first, since this is somehow easier than if you did it white part first. I didn't do one backward, so I really don't know if this is true or not. 

Someone told me a long time ago that this was the easiest way to peel hard boiled eggs, and it is. The curvature of the spoon is the same as the curvature of the egg, making it perfect for slipping under the shell and breaking off large chunks. 

The pickled celery and vinaigrette. Well my versions thereof. The pickled celery was fine. Justin and I weren't in love. It wasn't gross, but I am not sure it was worth the little bit of time that it takes. And I didn't have a shallot, so I just used some red onion and a garlic clove.

Quarter the potatoes (or halve them if you are using fingerlings). Drizzle with vinaigrette. 

Top with sieved eggs and bacon. Yes, this is a teensy bit like a breakfast hash. But it has a vinaigrette, so much more sophisticated than regular potatoes, eggs, and bacon.

And then sprinkle with pickled celery and cilantro. Because cilantro is good and you should sprinkle it on everything that doesn't move. 

Recipe as Smitten Kitchen intended it to be written

fingerlings vinaigrette with sieved eggs and pickled celery

Pickled Celery

1/4 cup white wine vinegar

1/4 cup water

1 tablespoon kosher salt

1 1/2 tsp sugar

2 stalks celery, thinly sliced on an angle

Whisk the first four ingredients. Add celery. Set aside for about an hour in the fridge. Or longer. According to smitten kitchen, these only get better with age. Maybe ours weren't old enough. 

Vinaigrette

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 teaspoons whole grain mustard

1 teaspoon Dijon mustard

2 teaspoons white wine vinegar

1 small shallot, minced

Whisk together. 

I do not have whole grain mustard. (Not entirely sure what it is.) So I just used regular old French's mustard for both the mustards. I know. Lame. But it works fine!

Salad

1 pound fingerling potatoes, boiled until fork tender/fully cooked

2 large eggs, hard boiled, cut into quarters

crumbled bacon

minced fresh herbs

few tufts of frisee or arugula leaves (optional)

Halve fingerlings (or cut potatoes until more managable size). Arrange on plate, cut side up. Drizzle the vinaigrette generously on top. Press each chunk of egg through a mesh sieve, yolk part first so that all the fingerlings are coated with tufts of egg. Garnish as desired.

Almost all of this can be made ahead of time and assembled rather quickly. I use potatoes made the night before, eggs hard boiled sometime that day, whisk up the vinaigrette, crisp the bacon, and arrange away. 15 minutes tops. It is lovely warm or cold. Lately, it has hit the spot as a light spring dinner. And it has the added benefit of being a beautiful left-over breakfast.

More smitten kitchen. Leek Fritters

I love these things. They are yummy. They are beautiful. They are spring-y. 

Leek Fritters with garlic and lemon

2 pounds leeks (about 3 large)

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 scallions, sliced thin

1/4 cup flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

freshly ground black pepper

pinch of cayenne, crushed red pepper, chipotle (optional)

1 large egg

olive oil or veg oil for frying

Garlic Lemon Cream

1/2 cup sour cream

1 tablespoon fresh lemon

pinches of salt

1 small garlic clove

Trim leeks, leaving on the white and pale green parts. (I love to stir fry the tops. It pains me to throw out such a lot of edible yumminess!) Halve them lengthwise. If they look gritty or dirty (they probably do) plunge them in cold water and swish around to remove dirt. On cutting board, slice crosswise into 1/4 inch strips. Bring pot of salted water (just throw some in) to a boil and cook leeks 3-4 minutes, until softened, but not limp. Drain and wring out in a dish towel. (This helps ensure crunchiness when frying.)

Transfer wrung out leeks to bowl. Mix in the dry ingredients together in a seperate bowl. Stir into leeks. Mix in egg until leeks are evenly coated.

Preheat oven to 250 and place a foil covered baking sheet into oven. Stack paper towels on plate. In large, cast iron (or otherwise) skillet heat two tablespoons oil over medium heat until it shimmers. Drop small batches of leek mixture into the skillet, being careful not to crowd them. Lightly flatten with spatula. Cook until golden underneath, about 3 minutes. If the are browning too quickly, reduce heat to medium low. Flip and cook 3 minutes on the other side.

Drain beautifully golden fritters on paper towel lined plate and transfer to warm oven to keep warm and crispy while you fry the rest. Let rest in oven 10 minutes after cooking to ensure egg is thoroughly cooked. 

Whisk together the lemon cream ingredients. Dollop each fritter with cream before eating. 

Iceberg Salad

Mom recently got the Smitten Kitchen Cookbook out of the library. I might need to buy this book. I sort of took it home the night she brought it home and have never given it back. I am holding it hostage. It isn't my library card that is running up the penny-a-day overdue fine, after all. Clover introduced me to Smitten Kitchen, like a good sister should, several years ago over Smitten Kitchen's pizza dough and sauce recipe. I have since used the pizza dough recipe quite often and have occasionally stumbled across a recipe of hers online. I am not a big blog follower, so this book was my first real immersion into Smitten Kitchen's recipes. The genius of this woman!

I think Justin might actually be in love with Deb, the woman who is smitten kitchen. She thinks kale is over used. She loves pasta and hates any sort of substitute. She isn't into fish. She makes a lot of pizza. And to top it all off, she loves iceberg lettuce. Iceberg is Justin's favorite lettuce. He and my Dad comisserate over the romaine, spring mixes, and artisian lettuces that usually appear in my salads. I am not sure why I don't use iceberg, I just don't. I think I was swayed by all the "Darker green is healthier" advice of the past decade. But then I saw this recipe and thought how much my dear and darling husband would love this salad. And he does. He says he would have a hard time choosing between this salad and pizza. Which is pretty much a declaration of love and devotion from Justin. And to tell the truth, it makes a nice break from romaine and softer lettuces that might be easier eaten with a spoon than stabbed with a fork.

And now moving tangentially, a poem.

"The Iceberg Theory"

Gerald Locklin

all the food critics hate iceberg lettuce.
you'd think romaine was descended from
orpheus's laurel wreath,
you'd think raw spinach had all the nutritional
benefits attributed to it by popeye,
not to mention aesthetic subtleties worthy of
verlaine and debussy.
they'll even salivate over chopped red cabbage
just to disparage poor old mr. iceberg lettuce.

i guess the problem is
it's just too common for them.
it doesn't matter that it tastes good,
has a satisfying crunchy texture,
holds its freshness,
and has crevices for the dressing,
whereas the darker, leafier varieties
are often bitter, gritty, and flat.
it just isn't different enough, and
it's too stinking* american.

of course a critic has to criticize;
a critic has to have something to say.
perhaps that's why literary critics
purport to find interesting
so much contemporary poetry
that just bores the stuffing* out of me.

at any rate, i really enjoy a salad
with plenty of chunky iceberg lettuce,
the more the merrier,
drenched in an italian or roquefort dressing.
and the poems i enjoy are those i don't have
to pretend that i'm enjoying.

*Alrighty, I am a prude. I changed the swear words here to un-swear words. Noted by the italics.

 But this poem, found in Garrison Keillor's Good Poems, has always made me laugh. It is true. People go for obscurities and trends, eating reindeer moss and unpronounceable things that I couldn't find in a 50 mile radius of my hometown. And I fall victim to this too. As demonstrated by not using iceberg for a decade. All those beautiful salads lost....

Now to get back to the main point here, a recipe! As usual, I didn't follow the recipe too closely. I mean it is a salad. You just throw things together. But for continuities sake, I will give it to you as smitten kitchen saw fit to write it.

Iceberg Stack with blue cheese and radishes

Dressing
1/2 cup well shaken buttermilk
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1 Tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
1 small garlic clove, minced
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/8 tsp freshly ground pepper

Mix together.

Iceberg Stack
4 ounces pancetta or bacon
1 stalk celery
1/3 cup radishes
1 pound head of iceberg lettuce, trimmed, cored and sliced into 1 inch thick rounds
1/2 cup firm blue cheese, crumbled
1/4 cup chopped fresh chives

Layer a slice of lettuce with toppings and drizzle with dressing.

Now that I have got that off my chest, I will tell you what we do. I love this dressing. But Justin has a weird fascination with ranch dressing, so he uses that. Whatever vegetables are handy and appealing are thrown in. Bacon is crisped, cheddar is grated.

It isn't as stylish as radishes, blue cheese, and pancetta, but all the same, it is a lovely salad.

Banana Bread

This recipe is from Bon Apetit, which did a whole article on the best bread in Hawaii. Someone who used to live in Hawaii went back and drove around to little out of the way places eating banana bread the whole way to discover the best banana bread on the island. (Note to self: Find a job like this.) The best 'nana bread was Auntie Julia's. And Auntie Julia knows her banana bread. I love this recipe. Having a good recipe for banana bread is one of life's essential recipies. With four kids, we have a lot of banana's around. And it is always hard to foretell if it is going to be a week where everyone eats their banana's or not. So every few weeks I have a few neglected bananas who are sitting there freckled and black, just asking for some purpose in this life. Purpose beyond ending up in the pig slop pail, that is.

Off topic, one of the banana bread makers (seriously, I had no idea Hawaii was such a den of banana bread bakers.) made the comment, "We can cook from the same recipe, but it's the love in the hand that stirs that makes the difference." Bon Appetit liked this and made it large. I find this odd. If someone is not good at baking, why should we make it worse by telling them that they are only bad at baking because they don't have enough love in their stirring hand? "I'm sorry. It isn't just your technique. It goes deeper. You are emotionally depraved. WHY DON'T YOU LOVE YOUR FAMILY MORE?"

So just remember that. If you like this banana bread, it isn't the recipe. It is your emotional hand.

Julia's Best Banana Bread. (Or Bethaney's best. Or your best.)

1 3/4 cups all purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
3/4 tsp kosher salt
3 large eggs
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 cup mashed, freckled, very ripe/over ripe bananas (about 2 large-ish)
3/4 cup vegetable oil.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease loaf (or muffin) pan.
Whisk dry ingredients, flour, soda, salt together in medium bowl.
Whisk eggs, sugar, bananas, and oil in a large bowl until smooth. Mix in dry ingredients and stir until combined. Pour into loaf pan.
Bake 60-70 minutes until tester inserted into the center of the loaf comes out clean. (Or with a few crumbs if you like it slightly denser and gooier. I do.)  Transfer to wire rack. Let cool in pan 15 min. Run knife around pan to release bread, turn out to rack, cool completely.

Muffins bake in about 15-20 minutes. You can add whatever you like to it. Chocolate chips, coconut, chopped nuts, raisins, dried cranberries or cherries, some mashed potatoes and gravy. Seriously, banana bread is a great adder-toer. But I wouldn't advise the potatoes and gravy. Might show a lack of love in your mixing hand.

Somehow, even without butter, this tastes buttery. Yummy, buttery, moist.... oh banana bread.