In the canon of Southern cooking, the holy triumvirate of the culinary trinity are fried green tomatoes, fried chicken and fried peach pies. They are the tastes and smells that so define place and time as to be inseparable. They harbor the past and they bind the present, but if we’re not careful, lost recipes and techniques won’t be able to link us to the future.
Frying foods is a relatively quick alternative to slow-cooked meals that have to steep and soften over time. More than that, there is the inarguable truth that fat tastes good. Frying is a convenient way to combine fat with food in a palatable way, and if done correctly the method is not unhealthy.
This is hardly to suggest that these foods fill the daily table. No, these are special occasion foods that bring family and friends together. And if you learn to cook them yourself, you will find that there better be a good occasion for the amount of effort involved. Frying is messy, too.
Before you go putting your cardiologist’s number on speed dial, remember that the pulpit preaches moderation. You can’t eat like this every day—or even every week, for that matter—but you can enjoy a bite every now and then. In today’s mobile, global society, local flavors are giving way to world foods and hybrid cuisines. Change happens, and that’s how our own Southern styles evolved. What’s worrisome is the loss of any region’s culinary memory. So call your grandmother and get those recipes. And when you fry up that chicken, please pass the plate.
You say tomato
Long before Fannie Flagg’s ode to Tawanda, fried green tomatoes were the hallmark of a gardener’s bounty. Tomatoes on the vine, spilling out of their space, growing fast, can easily inundate the average cook. By season’s end, however, the climate takes over the vine and the fruit no longer hurtles toward red ripeness. So many green tomatoes. What to do?
Time to fry. Ask Martha Stamps, local chef and cookbook author who serves up the golden discs at her restaurant, Martha’s at the Plantation. She likes to slice them thick, a good half inch, so there’s some heft inside the cornmeal breading. I wouldn’t go much thinner than a quarter inch, or you run the risk of ending up with a piece of tomato that won’t stay on your fork.
At Arnold’s meat-and-three, Jack Arnold’s son Manolito throws some dried oregano into the meal, giving his variation an Italian flair. It works well, as does the horseradish sauce that both he and Martha Stamps recommend as an accompaniment.
Martha Stamps’ Fried Green Tomatoes
3 large green tomatoes
2 c. buttermilk
2 c. cornmeal
2 c. flour
2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. black pepper
pinch cayenne
Slice tomatoes 1/2-inch thick and soak in buttermilk for one hour or over night. Mix together remaining ingredients. Dredge soaked tomatoes in cornmeal mixture. Place on baking sheet and refrigerate at least 30 minutes or up to three hours. Fry in 330-degree vegetable oil until brown and crispy, about three to five minutes. Drain and serve with a mild horseradish sauce.
The bird’s the word
At the peak of this heart-stopping group sits fried chicken, one of the world’s great foods. Fried chicken is a treat. It is not a preparation that one begins lightly. For anyone who has taken the time to learn and perfect this craft, they realize it takes a certain dedication to task.
Sally Lagrone feels strongly enough about it that she’s compelled to cook it at least a few times a year, just to stay in the game and to inculcate her children into the fried arts. She sees it as part of our collective southern heritage, especially since it transcends all dividing lines.
Sally trusts her recipe enough that she put it leg-to-wing against Martha Stewart’s version for a worldwide audience. Known throughout the Southeast as a pre-eminent caterer and party planner, Sally and Martha crossed paths years ago, and she soon became one of Martha’s go-to gals for truly Southern fare. While Sally most graciously insists that her spot on Martha’s television show a couple years ago wasn’t a competition, you can be sure that her plate was full of the Good Thang.
The first rule to frying chicken is written in cast iron. Some cooks do a perfectly good job in deep fryers or electric skillets, but nothing holds the heat in such massive glory as a seasoned iron skillet.
Second, you need to learn how to cut up a whole chicken. One of the finest lessons comes from Mrs. Ida Ramsey, who’s been frying chicken and writing cookbooks in Viola, Tenn., for more than 60 years. She does what’s called a “country-style” cut, carving out the most prized cut—the tenderloin of chicken. As you disassemble the fowl, preserve the meat around the pulley bone. (That’s wishbone for the rest of you.) When golden-fried just right, that’s the piece reserved for guests at the table.
Ida is also quick to remind neophytes that whole buttermilk tastes better (of course), but you really need to drain the pieces so they’re not choked with milk-fat solids.
The rest is experience—finding that right balance that keeps the crust golden without burning, but also cooks the meat through without drying it out. And since any good cook needs inspiration, have a look in at Swett’s, Carolyn’s Kitchen or just peek in the back room of Prince’s Hot Chicken Shack and marvel at the giant skillets.
Sally Lagrone’s Fried Chicken
Serves 4
1 3-pound chicken, cut into 8 pieces
1 tsp. salt
1 1/2 c. self-rising flour
1 tsp. freshly ground pepper
Pinch of ground cinnamon
1 c. whole milk or buttermilk
Solid vegetable shortening, for frying
1. Place chicken in a large bowl; cover with ice water. Cover bowl with plastic wrap, and place in refrigerator to allow chicken to soak overnight. Pat chicken dry, and sprinkle with salt.
2. In a large shallow bowl, dish or paper sack, season flour with generous pepper and a pinch of cinnamon. Toss chicken pieces in flour, then shake off excess. Let dry for 15 minutes.
3. Pour milk into another shallow bowl, and dip chicken pieces into milk. Coat the pieces again with flour.
4. In a large, heavy skillet, melt enough solid shortening over high heat to about 2 inches. If the shortening starts to smoke, your heat is too high. Brown chicken pieces on both sides, starting with the meat side down and turning frequently. Lower heat, cover skillet and cook until chicken is just done, 10 to 20 minutes, depending on the size of piece. Remove the cover, raise heat to high again, and fry until chicken is crisp on both sides. Remove from skillet. Drain the pieces on a wire rack. Serve hot or cold.
5. For spicier chicken, you can add cayenne to the flour or use hot sauce to fire up the buttermilk.
The pie’s the thing
It doesn’t take Julia Child to see and understand the evolution of most fried foods. Fried pies are another thing. It’s not enough that your turnover dough is already laden with butter or shortening of some kind. But what possessed someone to take a fruiIlled crescent and drop it in the fryer?
Not that we’re complaining. A trip to Silver Sands soul food restaurant (937 Locklayer St., 742-1652) near the Farmers Market requires a fried peach pie finisher. The kind ladies there will even dunk it in butter, heat it up and hand it back to just to make sure that the oil theme hasn’t been overlooked. A former colleague proclaimed in a moment of weakness that it was like a peach orgy in his mouth. We’re all still studying that one.
Fried Peach Pie
(adapted from an old recipe in Ida Ramsey’s Ida’s in the Kitchen, Viola Hilltop Publishing)
Pastry for Fried Pies
3 c. all-purpose flour
1 tsp. salt
3/4 c. vegetable shortening
1 egg, lightly beaten
1/4 c. cold water
1 tsp. white vinegar
Filling
3 c. dried peaches
1 1/2 c. water
sugar (to taste)
cinnamon, nutmeg, or ground allspice (to taste)
pinch of black pepper
Mix together the flour and salt. Cut in the shortening with a pastry blender or two knives. Beat the egg, add the water and vinegar and mix well. Combine the two mixtures, a little at a time, until all dry ingredients are moist and resemble coarse crumbs. Mold together with your hands and cover in plastic wrap. Refrigerate for at least one hour.
On very low heat, simmer the dried fruit in the water until very tender. Add water if necessary to prevent scorching. Allow to cool; mash through ricer or sieve. Stir in the sugar and spices to taste. Remove the pastry from the refrigerator, roll out and cut into 5- to 6-inch circles. Put approximately two generous tablespoons of filling onto one side of the circle of dough. Dot with butter. Moisten edges, fold and seal and then mash edges with a fork. Fry a few pies at a time in hot lard (or shortening), browning on both sides. Drain on paper towels.
