Book Review: The World in a Skillet: A Food Lover's Tour of the New American South

Full disclosure: I'm good friends with the authors of this book, as well as a few of the people covered in it. However, for the past year, whenever I've invited the Knipples to come over for dinner or to help me empty some wine, they were out of town tracking down people and recipes for this book. Doing serious writerly legwork on the road instead of helping me drain some Chilean wine while we swap tips about where to find hibiscus flowers in syrup and weird organ meats in the Mid-South. So while I'm glad that the book is a reality and not just a polite excuse after I served them haggis tamales, I'm going to call this even on the journalistic ethics front.

I first met Paul and Angela when they reached out to me in 2007 to have a little gathering of Memphis food and wine bloggers at a Mexican restaurant downtown. I knew we'd hit it off when they bypassed the gringo fare and went straight for the cactus appetizer. At the time they wrote about local food and related topics on a blog called Squirrel Squad Squeaks, though over the years they rebranded with the more essay-driven From the Southern Table. And of course, the book has its own website, which features a calendar of book signings and other events throughout the Southeast in the next few months.

The World in a Skillet: A Food Lover's Tour of the New American South
By Paul & Angela Knipple
Foreword by John T. Edge
The University of North Carolina Press
$35, 296 pp.

While you can pre-order the book at Amazon using the above link, fellow Memphians might want to attend the official launch party at the local independent Booksellers at Laurelwood, formerly Davis-Kidd.

Don't let the cover mislead you: this is not a collection of Southern classics like cornbread and collard greens, though those dishes make appearances. Rather, it's a look at the increasing cultural and culinary diversity of the South and how such cooking traditions have settled and adapted in towns small and large in this corner of the United States.

The new South is a different place. Within walking distance of my abode in a fairly vanilla suburb of Memphis, I have two Thai restaurants, a Vietnamese place, two Indian restaurants and a third grocery store, two Japanese sushi bars, and more. I now encounter old Russian ladies working at local supermarkets, and whenever I say "Спасибо", I get an involuntary response of "Пожалуйста" followed by a chuckle at the short Irish guy spouting bad Russian. Less than 20 years ago, this was still farmland, and even 10 years ago it was just a sea of fast food joints and chain restaurants.

Each chapter focuses on a chef or a restaurant, telling the story of how that person or family came to the United States, and concluding with a couple of choice recipes. (Memphians include Pepe Magallenes of Las Tortugas and Wally Joe of Acre.) In places, anecdotes and cooking tips are included as sidebars. It's a fascinating oral history project that has the added benefit of making you very hungry.

It reminds me a lot of one of my favorite formative cookbooks, Jeff Smith's The Frugal Gourmet on Our Immigrant Ancestors (Recipes You Should Have Gotten From Your Grandmother). He was writing from experience in the relatively cosmopolitan cities of Chicago and Seattle as well as lots of world travel. I was excited to have one book that had dozens of chapters focused on specific world cuisines, each with an introductory story/history lesson, quotes from friends, and four or five recipes. For someone that would go on to get excited about wines from Colorado, Moldova, and India, it was a book that combined Gourmet with National Geographic. (And come to think of it, the Hawaii chapter had a drawing of a topless native...)

For me, the best part of The World in a Skillet was reading about Haitian food. I've never been exposed to it and have never thought to seek it out, despite a love of Cuban, Jamaican, Puerto Rican, and other styles of cooking that are collectively Caribbean but so individually unique. I can't wait to try out the recipe for queue de boeuf, which combines two of my favorite things that never made Julie Andrews' list: habaneros and oxtails.

The book is a great read for either short or long stretches and builds upon a unique strength possessed by the authors. They both have distinct and interesting personalities but are able to collaboratively write in a third and separate voice. I've known them for years but when reading their essays or this book I can't pick out which parts are Paul's or Angela's. I can edit or be edited, but I can't write with a partner to save my life, and I admire that talent. Think about that love and friendship when you're reading the book, and it will let you know how they were able to get so many people from so many different backgrounds to contribute to this effort. Best of luck to them both, and I can't wait to read the next one.


Note: This book was received as a sample.

2009 Clos de los Siete

Just in time for the 7th anniversary here at BWR comes a bottle called Clos de los Siete, French and Spanish for "Enclosed Vineyard of the Seven [Investors]". Originally seven investors and vineyards banded together to promote their own wines as well as contribute to blended wines under the Clos de los Siete marque. I didn't see a website for the operation, but Alder Yarrow visited in 2010 and has a lot of information about the properties and specific region of Argentina.

When the bottle first arrived, I snapped a photo and thought "Malbec" and set it aside to let the bottle rest and cool for a few days before sampling it. The first taste revealed more complexity than I was expecting, and I peeked at the list of grapes. Really a fascinating mix while remaining majority Malbec. I enjoyed it with roasted pork and a few steamed vegetables... Nothing special, but I was in the mood for a light dinner and the flavor of the pork shoulder was great with this bottle.

2009 Clos de los Siete
Mendoza, Argentina
57% Malbec, 15% Merlot, 15% Cabernet Sauvignon, 10% Syrah, 3% Petit Verdot
$18, 14.5% abv.

Great red blend with a good bit of heft to it. Firm tannins, big body, and lots of dark fruit. Blackberries and plum, touches of cedar and tobacco, long finish. 50,000 cases were produced, and imports from Argentina are somewhat easier than the former Soviet Bloc, so it shouldn't be too difficult to find this wine. While I normally recommend flavorful red meats with Malbec (beef, lamb, buffalo, etc.), this one is more delicate and I think needs to go along with duck, pork, or veal. If you get a chance to try it with any of these, let me know what you think.

Note: This wine was received as a sample.

Noroc! Exclusiv Vodca & Sparkling Rosé

Moldova is a small country sandwiched between Ukraine and Romania, though historically, linguistically and culturally much closer to Romania and western Europe than the nearby Slavic nations of the former Soviet Union. Moldovan is a Romance language (practically the same as Romanian) and uses the Latin alphabet rather than Cyrillic. The history and geography are quite complicated due to different pieces of the modern country belonging to the Russian Empire, Kingdom of Romania, or the Soviet Union from the 1800s to WWII with the formation of the Moldavian SSR. It's also landlocked in what seems to be a purely punitive manner: the southeastern border near Odessa is just 2km/1.2 miles from an estuary of the Black Sea.

Although Moldova boasts five thousand years of wine production, there have been significant interruptions. 300 years of occupation by the Ottoman Empire, WWI, WWII, then half a century of making sweet wine and vodka for Russia, and most recently, since 2006 Russia has had a ban on Moldovan wine due to tensions over Transnistria. Losing their biggest export market meant that Moldovan winemakers had to look elsewhere for sales, which is how a bottle of bubbly and a bottle of vodka from Exclusiv ended up here in Memphis.

A friend asks, "How'd you get Moldovan wine and liquor?" I reply, "Well, it has a lot to do with the 1939 Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact and the Cession of Bessarabia. How much time have you got?"

Exclusiv Vodca
Distilled from wheat
$9, 40% abv.
Typing notes about vodka is always interesting, because you'll have an Absolut and a Polish wodka and now "Exclusiv Vodca", all fun for the spell check. The vodka is clean and neutral with a quick finish. Very mild notes of grain. I sampled it both at room temperature and after a few hours in the freezer, and it's much smoother at low temperatures. The real deal here is that you can get a frosted-glass bottle full of decent wheat vodka for under ten dollars, a third the price of its anserine competitor.

NV Esti Exclusiv Moscato Rosé
Made from Muscat grapes
$9, 10% abv.
I was excited to try this, but I was afraid that it would be incredibly sweet, or perhaps evoke some of the memories of my run-in with Советское Шампанское. But I was pleasantly surprised. Slightly musky nose with touches of ripe plum, classic Muscat aromas but with a deeper edge. Great acidity and not too sweet, great balance. Not cloying on the finish. Fascinating dark flavors and reminiscent of the plump muscadine grapes that grow wild here in the South. It's still sweet enough that I'd recommend it as a dessert wine, though if you're looking for an introduction to Eastern European wines you'll be hard pressed to find one that's a better crowd pleaser. The bottle's non-threatening, it tastes good, and the Italians have made the word "Moscato" a safe one for the wine novice. Really a fun bottle, and worth checking out if you get the opportunity.


Note: These bottles were received as samples.

Kanon Organic Vodka

I love it when a piece of history shows up on my doorstep. The Kanon Organic Vodka is made by the Gripsholm Distillery in Akers Styckebruk, Sweden. The old factory has been around since 1580, originally a combination distillery and foundry for making cannons during the reign of King Karl IX, the Protestant king who usurped the Catholic Sigismund. I don't know a lot about Karl IX, but for some reason I had to learn a lot about his son Gustav II Adolf, a fascinating figure. Ascending the throne at the age of 17, he became the leader of Protestant Europe against the Holy Roman Empire during the massive and bloody Thirty Years' War. 8 million people died during the conflict, which included armies from virtually every country in Europe plus the Ottoman Empire. Definitely a prelude for the modern industrial world wars that would follow (not just the two big ones, but others like the Seven Years' War of the mid-18th century).

Now, I have no way of knowing this for sure, but it's possible that a young Gustavus Adolphus took his first sip of liquor from the same distillery whose bottle now graces my humble Memphis abode. Skål, Gustav!

Kanon Organic Vodka
Sweden
$25, 40% abv.

This vodka is distilled from locally grown organic wheat, and on top of that the distillery currently runs on wind and water power. There's a somewhat grainy flavor with a crisp finish--no citrus notes, but more earth and a touch of astringent bite on the end. Ultimately smooth but bracing. It works well in cocktails: I tried it with a Moscow Mule as well as a simple Vodka Tonic, and both got the personal seal of approval. Good all-around solid vodka with a fun story.

On top of that, it is an interesting bottle. While the design is a bit hard to make out (not enough contrast in that lower text!), I like the simple sans-serif font and the old metal seal of the cannon foundry. The sliced off cannonball cap is a nice touch, and I'll probably hang onto this bottle for fun even after its contents have gone the way of Sweden's non-neutral past.


P.S. One other odd bit of Swedish military history that I love but rarely get to mention. In the 19th century, the island of Visingsö was planted with oak trees in hopes of having shipbuilding supplies for necessary invasions of Germany or England or whoever needed to be fought... in 200 years. In the 1980s, the forestry service contacted the Swedish Navy and said, "Your trees are ready." Now it's a national forest.


Note: This spirit was received as a sample.

Anniversary Weekend Cooking Adventures

I didn't really have any plans to celebrate the 7th anniversary of the blog, and after a busy week had thought that I'd just grill some burgers and take it easy. But I awoke early on Saturday with cravings for good food, Northern Italian style, and the knowledge that a pair of Super Tuscans could make it all incredible. I hit a couple of ethnic markets around town for ingredients and was able to perform Act I by lunchtime.

When most people in the US crave "Italian" food, the menu sticks to the Southern Italian and Sicilian recipes as they've become adapted into the distinct Italian-American cuisine of the 20th century: spaghetti, pizza, lasagna... Noodles and cheese and red sauce. When I visited Italy for three weeks, I spent the entire time north of Rome (except for two somewhat unpleasant days in Rome itself). One of my favorite things to make and consume is crespelle, savory crêpes that are sort of like Italian enchiladas: stuffed with meat and vegetables, topped with a sauce, and baked. Here I used Marcella Hazan's classic recipe with a spinach, garlic, and prosciutto filling with besciamella sauce and grated Romano cheese rounding out the inside and outside of the crespelle. Absolutely wonderful, and I limited myself to three as the primo piatto with a little New Zealand white wine I'll write about later.

For secondo piatto, I didn't follow any specific recipe but rather went with a gut feel about what I was craving: a rabbit chopped into its constituent cuts, slowly stewed with sweet discus-shaped cipollini onions, homemade chicken stock, red wine, and San Marzano tomatoes. A few hours did the lagomorph good, and I was able to spoon the rich stew on the plate beside a healthy dollop of freshly mixed polenta.

Sadly, this photo didn't come out quite the way I wanted, but I was ravenous at this point and had just finished a few hours of cooking and plating and everything else for just two people. Julia had never had rabbit before but dove into it enthusiastically, and while I've prepared this meat many different ways in the past, I've got to say that this not only satisfied my cravings for rustic European food but was also my best rabbit dish to date. The onions were great but I knew that I could coax some more flavor out of them. Thankfully I had more cipollini waiting in a little net bag for Sunday lunch...

Time out for wine, which is really the focus of this blog, right? I had a pair of wines from Il Borro, a Tuscan winery operated by the Ferragamo family, famous for their fashionable shoes over the past hundred years.

Both wines are of the following label and built from the same combination of grapes:

Il Borro Toscana IGT
50% Merlot, 35% Cabernet Sauvignon, 10% Syrah, 5% Petit Verdot

The 2008 celebrates the 10th anniversary of this blend, and retails for around $36 dollars at 14% abv. The 2004 vintage was included for aging comparison and clocks in at 14.5% abv. I really like the inclusion of Syrah along with the standard Bordeaux grapes, whether we're talking about California or elsewhere. Both wines have a dominant profile of bright red cherry, with notes of cedar, leather, and a somewhat creamy finish. Hints of spice showed up later. While both wines had great full-fruit elements, the 2004 was smoother, better balanced, and had lighter tannins.

And, I must admit, both wines were amazing with the stewed rabbit. But how would they hold up the next day for Act II?

As I was celebrating getting out of a small cooking rut with some culinary successes, I chose to continue that momentum with some leftovers and a few additional ingredients. This Southern boy was craving cornbread and collard greens. But I didn't want a slab of ham and some broccoli-rice casserole to round things out. I slow-cooked a big bunch of mustard greens with garlic and leftover prosciutto, seared and roasted a lamb shoulder chop, and pan-fried some of the leftover polenta in slices, topped with a bit more of the shredded Romano.

But what about my precious little cipollini? Oh, I just tossed them with a combination of balsamic vinegar, maple syrup, and olive oil and roasted them for about an hour until they became the sweetest little gems that any root vegetable could ever hope to become. Sunday lunch was a solitary affair, and once again the wines worked quite well with the food I'd made. I was able to quietly toast the anniversary with a pair of great wines in front of me, and no worries about the massive consumption of onions and garlic for any potential social encounters in the following eighteen hours.

All in all a delightful and epicurean weekend. Part of me wishes that I'd been able to entertain more people with the dishes, but on the other hand, it was fun to cook for two and then one. Simple peasant food can often be the source of such deep and wonderful pleasure, and on a cold January afternoon, that can sometimes be best enjoyed in smaller settings.


Note: These wines were received as samples.

7th Anniversary

For seven years, I've been scribbling messages thrice weekly, tossing digital bottles into the ocean, and am still constantly surprised by how much response I receive. Readers make writing worthwhile, and I thank each and every one of you that drops by, either regularly or through a web search about a certain wine. I've had the opportunity to try some amazing wines, spectacular food, and have met some of the most interesting and friendly people in the world.

How to celebrate? The Seven Year Itch suggests that it's time to wander and maybe start writing for a different, younger blog. The seventh-inning stretch would indicate that it's time to take a short break and make sure I can keep going for another two years. The existential dread of seventh grade encourages me that if I make it through this awkward phase with sanity intact then everything will be great later on.

None of that really applies to blogging, does it? There's no end in sight, no definite map of how things should or can develop over time. Frankly, lasting past a week is a big accomplishment for most any website in terms of making new content and providing regular updates. In that respect bloggers are more like survivors of the Ebola virus: "We don't know how long you'll live because typically people in your position are gone by now. Please don't cough on me."

It's been a fun year blogwise. Some highlights include:

• Tasting a wine from my birth year of 1976
  
• Hanging out with fellow bloggers Samantha and Joe
  
• My public radio interview
  
• My favorite April Fools Day Post
  
• Reaching 1000 posts

So what next? I've got a few ideas and tweaks and twists that I might apply to the blog, or not depending on how they work. I'll probably redesign the whole layout again in a few months when I get tired of this particular look. Might try to do some more challenging cooking, tackling those areas like pastry or sausage making in which I have limited experience. But for now, I raise my glass to you, dear reader, and shout "Excelsior! Onward and upward!"

Benito vs. the Cocktail: The Suffering Bastard

On the hour-long drive home from work (rain, Memphis traffic, and construction) I dreamily thought through the ingredients in the old home bar and mentally flipped through a few recipes I'd read recently. One popped to mind, and thus upon arrival at the house my butler I began to combine the ingredients for a restorative beverage. The Suffering Bastard is an old cocktail with a lot of variations. It was invented as a hangover cure in late 1940s Cairo. Think a Casablanca-style bar catering to westerners in post-war North Africa.

There are many versions of this involving some crazy substitute ingredients, but I settled on this one from Robert Hess because it had a kind of Sidecar vibe that I was liking. And about halfway through the cocktail, I introduced the ginger ale to try that style.

The Suffering Bastard

1 oz. Gin
1 oz. Lime Juice
¾ oz. Bourbon
Dash of Angostura Bitters
Ginger Ale to taste

Combine ingredients in glass and stir. Garnish options include all or some of the following: maraschino cherry, orange wedge, sprig of mint, and cucumber peel. Go crazy if you're making it for something else, but a young bachelor making a cocktail for himself after work might want to stick to those ingredients that can be poured from bottles or pulled from jars (though he will squeeze fresh lime juice, because he is not an uncivilized wretch).

The list of ingredients seems insane, but this works amazingly well. It somehow ends up tasting more like fresh squeezed orange juice than a Screwdriver, and you can't detect the presence of either Bourbon or gin. The citrus and bitters combine with the aromatic liquors to produce a strangely balanced new flavor. WIth ginger ale, it moves from a tart and powerful cocktail to a refreshing icy sipper that would be great in the summer. I'd say mix up a pitcher of this and serve it at a party before you tell folks what's in it. They should be pleasantly surprised.