On the Road 1: Newsom's Country Store

fig. a: real ole time flavor

They ain't kidding. You've heard us wax rhapsodic on this topic before, but Newsom's hams are something special, and a great place to start if you've yet to experience the depth, the character, and the "real ole time flavor" of a true smokehouse-aged country ham.

fig. b: aged ham country

But there's more to Newsom's than just superior hams and a highly personable mail-order business. Much more. There's an actual general store (Newsom's Old Mill Store) right in the heart of historic Princeton, Kentucky, and it's been in the family for almost 100 years now.

fig. c: outside the Old Mill Store

The store's as cute as the dickens, but not in a contrived way--it's a fully functional store, with a wide range of Newsom's own and Newsom's-approved comestibles, in addition to the deli counter where they keep their bacon, pre-sliced packages of their smoky "preacher hams," and other hickory-smoked delicacies.

fig. d: inside the Old Mill Store

If you visit in the late summer, like I did, you won't find any country hams kicking around, unfortunately--the ham "season" begins in the fall and reaches a peak around now, when country hams are being purchased for the holidays. However, you will find the store chock full of local produce, not to mention an impressive selection of dry goods, including a vast array of Southern legumes (like beautiful dried crowder peas!). You're also likely to find the ever-so-charming Nancy "the Ham Lady" Newsom Mahaffey working the floor.

Newsom's Old Mill Store is well worth a Kentucky pilgrimage, but if you're not planning on passing through Kentucky anytime soon, you can still get a vivid sense of the Newsom's tradition by just picking up the phone and placing an order with them, or dropping them a line.

Newsom's Old Mill Store
208 E. Main Street
Princeton, KY 42445
(270) 365-2482 [during store hours: 9:00 am-4:30 pm CST, Monday through Friday, and 9:00 am-3:00 pm CST Saturday]
www.newsomscountryham.com
newsomsham@yahoo.com

aj

A Kentucky Colonel in Upstate New York and other tales

fig. a: Valley Acres

Things began in Montreal, of course, but it wasn't until we reached Saratoga Springs and Valley Acres that we felt like our weekend escape was truly underway.

fig. b: ornamental corn

That was where we found the first farm stand of our trip, as well as the first crisp, local apples, the first dried corn (in this case, ornamental), and the first apple cider donuts.

fig. c: Michelle makes her getaway

Michelle grabbed a few beauties, posed for a picture, and we got back on the road.

fig. d: All Fired Up BBQ

We thought those apples would tide us over until we reached our destination in the Catskills, but when we smelled the sweet aromas coming from that roadside smoker by the side of the 9W, we knew we had to stop. Our oversized pulled pork sandwich wasn't exactly NC-style, but then the Catskills aren't exactly the Blue Ridge either. That fruitwood-smoked pork was tender and smoky, though, and that $2 side of smoked baked beans (a.k.a., "man beans," although I'm not sure why) was the best $2 I've spent in a long time.

fig. e: Hi-Way Drive-In

We made just one more teeny-tiny stop en route (to the lovely Hi-Way Drive-In)

fig. f: strong home

and half an hour later, we'd reached our destination.

fig. g: "the observatory"

In the observatory,

fig. h: "birds eye view"

we had a wonderful bird's eye view of the landscape.

fig. i: Col. Bill in the house

And in the kitchen, we had a surprise waiting for us: a Col. Bill Newsom's ham, a carefully selected, dry-cured, slow-smoked, aged, 15-lb beauty.

fig. j: ole no. 301

Well, it wasn't a complete surprise, because we'd gone ahead and ordered it from our friends in Princeton, KY when we knew we were going to be in the States for a weekend. We'd been fantasizing about getting our hands on our very own country ham for years, but we were never sure what to do about it because you can't mail-order a ham across the Canadian border and, sadly, neither of us has been anywhere near Kentucky in years. Somehow we'd even gotten it into our heads that there was some kind of Canadian ban on country hams. No U.S. country ham purveyor was willing to try shipping one across the border (we know, because we called a bunch of 'em), and we just figured the Canadian government was hostile towards the traditional curing methods of the Appalachian region. A couple of years ago we just gave up. Every once in a while, though, that urge would well up again, and we'd make some more inquiries. Then, finally, about a month ago, Michelle made an important discovery. She found out that technically there was no restriction against bringing a cured pork product across the border as long as two conditions were met: 1) it was under 20 kg in weight (per person!), and 2) it was for personal consumption only. The reason the country ham purveyors refused to ship hams to Canada had to do with spot checks that had occasionally held deliveries up at the border for weeks, even months, at a time. In other words, if we wanted a country ham there was absolutely no problem, we just had to go down to the States and haul it back ourselves (after spending the minimum amount of time required to avoid duties, of course). Hell, with the average weight of a country ham being about 15-20 lbs, we could conceivably get four or five country hams and bring 'em back, as long as we swore they were for personal consumption. (Yes, your Honor, I solemnly swear that these two hams are for my own personal consumption.)

fig. k: the first cut

Anyway, we promptly opened up the box and got to work on "ole No. 301," and minutes later we were savoring the very best ham of our lives. We'd had Col. Newsom's before, but never like this.

A couple of years ago we watched Anthony Bourdain's Decoding Ferran Adria. Adrià takes Bourdain on a brief and somewhat surprising tour of Spain to help him get inside the philosophy of El Bulli. One of their stops is Madrid's Museo del Jamón, and there Adrià and Bourdain spend some time dwelling on the fat of a particularly fine specimen of jamón. I remember saying to myself, "I think I understand what they're talking about...," but having never experienced jamón of that quality, I could only imagine. Well, now I think I have a better sense, because just the fat alone off that Col. Newsom's ham is a sight to behold.

Anyway, we could have spent the whole afternoon admiring "ole No. 301," but we had some things we needed to pick up for dinner, and, besides, it was absolutely beautiful out. So that's what we did: we went out.

fig. l: Farmer Todd's 1

We took a short drive so that I could get my bearings, but mainly we just hung out at Farmer Todd's, a.k.a. Black Walnut Farm. It was late afternoon when we got there, and things being quiet at the time, Farmer Todd was all too happy to show us around, and we were all too happy to admire his fields.

fig. m: Farmer Todd's 2

We picked up some apples, tomatoes, eggs, and a few other odds and ends, but the coup of the day was the U-pick lettuce patch out back. Michelle was handed a pair of scissors and a bag and she went to town, and later that night we had the very best mixed greens of the entire year. Farmer Todd also gave us a seriously hot tip. The next morning he was going to be receiving two shipments: 1) some fresh apple cider donuts and 2) some locally produced sheep's milk ricotta.

fig. n: apple cider donuts at Farmer Todd's

So the next day we went back again. For some fantastic apple cider donuts (even better than Valley Farms').

fig. o: fresh ricotta from Farmer Todd's

For some truly heavenly ricotta.

fig. p: popping corn from Farmer Todd's

And for some fresh popping corn.

fig. q: fall colors

Anyway, the weekend wasn't all about food. It was about seeing old friends, fresh air, chopping wood and reading by the wood stove, walks in the woods, and fall colors.

fig. r: upstate NY

It was about playing with the dog, and lazing in the grass.

fig. s: Heather Ridge Farm

It was also about checking out some of the local sites. There were more food-related places like Heather Ridge Farm, with its grass-fed lamb and beef, its pastured chickens, its award-winning honey, and its lovely assortment of squashes.

fig. t: I.U. Tripp & Co. 1

But there was also I.U. Tripp & Co. in Oak Hill, NY. Pretty much the antiques shop of our dreams.

fig. u: I.U. Tripp & Co. 2

I mean, just look at this place. And all of it housed within the most incredible antique of all: an 1888 general store. We spent hours, but we could have spent days. Especially because Mary Lou and Nick (and their many cats) were so much fun to hang out with.

fig. v: I.U. Tripp & Co. 3

Everywhere we looked, we saw things that seemed to be communicating with us. In the end, we really didn't get all that much--we kinda got totally overwhelmed. But we'll be back.

fig. w: icicle house 1

Almost as impressive (we didn't get to go inside this place) was the nearby Icicle House.

fig. x: icicle house 2

It made me think of Walker Evans and his American Gothic series from 1931, most of which were taken in Upstate New York. It's also for sale. We tried to imagine what it would be like to live in a house as singular as the Icicle House. And while I took some photographs of my own, Michelle and S. decided to take a closer look.

The Recipes

Needless to say, between us and our hosts, we did a ton of cooking at Strong House that weekend. What follows is just a small selection of recipes--two which were actually part of the weekend festivities, and one that was inspired by our weekend getaway to the Catskills.

Country ham? Check.

fig. y: country fresh eggs

Farm-fresh eggs? Check.

fig. z: country ham & eggs

Fried Kentucky Country Ham with Eggs and Red-Eye Gravy

country ham
eggs
coffee
brown sugar (optional)
freshly ground black pepper

Slice your ham about 1/4" thick. Trim off the rind, but do not trim the fat. The fat provides loads (and I mean loads) of flavor and no other fat will be needed.

Fry the ham slices gently in a large heavy skillet, turning the lean away from the hottest point of the skillet. Be careful to fry slowly and to not over fry. This will make the ham tough. It will also make the fat smoke. Ham is usually done when the fat has turned translucent and the ham begins to brown slightly. Place on your plates.

[For a milder, less salty taste, soak the ham slices in lukewarm water or sweet milk for up to 30 minutes before frying. Make sure to pat them completely dry before frying, though.]

Pour your drippings in a small bowl.

Add a little coffee to the hot skillet after removing the ham and simmer for a couple of minutes, scraping up the ham bits. Make sure there's enough coffee so that it doesn't entirely evaporate. Pour in the bowl of drippings. Stir well and continue to simmer for another minute or two. Add a bit of brown sugar to taste, if you like--this will add color and additional flavor. Add freshly ground black pepper. Do not add salt. Between the drippings and the ham, you won't need it. Pour the gravy over your ham slices.

Accompany with a couple of fried eggs and a biscuit (see recipe below).

[recipe courtesy of Col. Bill Newsom's Hams]

Fresh ricotta cheese? Check.

We'd made crostini with some of our ricotta, but we still had some leftover. Luckily we had a copy of The New York Times Magazine's food issue (October 12), and therefore we had Christina Muhlke's "The Way We Eat" column on Kenny Shopsin and his new book, Eat Me, and therefore we had Shopsin's recipe for Lemon Ricotta Pancakes. We also had his recipe for Mac 'n' Cheese Pancakes, but we had farm-fresh ricotta on-hand, so it really wasn't much of a decision.

fig. aa: ricotta pancakes

Lemon Ricotta Pancakes

3 cups pancake batter (recipe follows)
zest of two lemons
2/3 cup whole-milk ricotta
peanut oil
butter
maple syrup

Stir the batter and the zest together. Gently fold in the ricotta.

Clean a griddle or heavy-bottomed skillet by running an oily cloth over it. If the cloth snags, scrape to remove, then wipe down the griddle with peanut oil. Set the griddle over moderate heat. (It’s hot enough when a drop of water bounces off the surface.) Pour a thin layer of peanut oil over the griddle. Just before you drop the batter, run cold butter across the area where you are going to cook. When it bubbles, drop the batter in 4-inch circles and immediately raise the heat to medium-high. Cook, adjusting the heat so as not to burn the ricotta, until bubbles appear, 1 to 3 minutes. Using a thin metal spatula, quickly flip and gently tap to make them uniform in thickness. Cook until the second side is golden. Serve with real maple syrup.

Makes about 12.

Pancake Batter

7 tablespoons butter
1 1/3 cups whole milk
3 large eggs
1 1/4 cups flour
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon sugar
1 tablespoon plus 2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt.

In a saucepan over medium-low heat, heat the butter and milk until the butter melts. Set aside until lukewarm. Beat the eggs in a medium bowl. Slowly pour 1/2 cup of the warm milk mixture into the eggs while stirring. Stir in the remaining milk mixture.

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. Pour the egg mixture into the flour mixture, a little at a time, stirring slowly, just until the dry ingredients are moistened. The batter should be lumpy and will start to bubble.

Makes about 3 1/2 cups.

[Courtesy of The New York Times. Adapted from “The Breakfast Book,” by Marion Cunningham.]

fig. bb: Michelle liberates the popping corn

Organic popping corn? Check.

fig. cc: Felknor's

Felknor's stovetop popcorn popper? Check.*

fig. dd: Chunk-E-Nut

Vintage Chunk-E-Nut caramel corn box from I.U. Tripp & Co.? Check. The box was actually the inspiration behind this next one. Michelle just bought the box because she loved the way it looked. When we got back home she realized she absolutely had to make some of her own Chunk-E-Nut to fill it with.

fig. ee: caramel corn

Michelle's Chunk-E-Nut Caramel Corn

popping corn from one cob, about 1/3 cup
3/4 stick unsalted butter
1 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup Lyle's golden syrup (you can also use corn syrup, if you prefer, but to get that true "Michelle's Caramel Corn" flavor we recommend Lyle's)
2 Tbsp. water
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1 Tbsp. vanilla
1/2 cup salted peanuts

Preheat the oven to 200°F. Pop the corn in a stovetop popper, a hot-air popper or in a covered pot with a bit of oil. Set aside in a large bowl.

fig. ff: freshly popped corn

In a small saucepan, melt the butter. Add the sugar, syrup, water, and salt, and bring to a boil, stirring carefully to melt all the sugar. Heat to 260°F, stir in the baking soda, vanilla and peanut and pour over the popcorn. Stir quickly using two wooden spoons in a salad-tossing motion. Pour out onto a parchment-lined baking sheet and bake for one hour, stirring every 10 min. Let cool and store in an airtight container, or place in vintage Chuck-E-Nut caramel corn box and eat it all up.

Makes a lot.

And last, but certainly not least...

fig. gg: biscuits

fig. hh: ham & biscuit

Ham & Biscuits

3 cups flour
1 scant tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. baking soda
4 tsp. baking powder
2/3 cup butter or lard
1 cup plus 2 Tbsp. buttermilk
country ham, shaved

Preheat oven to 450°F. Sift the flour, salt, baking soda and powder together in a large bowl. Cut in butter or lard with your fingers until it forms a coarse meal. Pour buttermilk over the mixture and stir quickly with a wooden spoon. Pour out onto a lightly floured surface and fold once or twice. Roll out to 1/2" thick and pierce the surface with a fork. Cut into rounds and place on a baking sheet. Do not re-roll the scraps, no matter how much you want to. Bake for 13 min., until golden brown.

Serve with country ham, either plain or with a suitable condiment (like jerusalem artichoke relish, chow chow, or pickled corn).

[Based on a recipe from Edna Lewis' The Taste of Country Cooking.]

For more information about Col. Bill Newsom's hams (everything you ever wanted or needed to know, actually), follow this link.

FIN

am/km

* If you haven't tried a Felknor's or a Whirley-Pop popcorn popper, we highly recommend them.

Erratum: This post previously described Farmer Todd's ricotta as being made with "goat's milk." Unlikely, I know, but that's what he told us. We later confirmed that the cheese in question was made with sheep's milk.

New York Odds & Ends 1

fig. a: Egg

Egg

Ever since I was taken to a restaurant in Reykjavik that operated as several different restaurants during the course of the week (there was a rotation at work, so it'd be a hippy vegetarian restaurant every Friday, a Pakistani restaurant every Saturday, and so on), I've liked the idea of restaurants sharing a space as a way of minimizing overhead costs. Of course, the fact that both visits to that Reykjavik resto were successful certainly helped. In theory, rock bands sharing a rehearsal space can be a pretty cool thing too, but in practice the results aren't always all that, well, noteworthy. Anyway, when we heard about the breakfasts at Egg, which started off by sharing its space on N. 15th St. in Williamsburg with a nouveau hot dog and hamburger joint named Sparky's--Egg by morning, Sparky's by afternoon and evening--we were intrigued. When we heard the folks at Egg were serving Col. Bill Newsom's legendary Kentucky country ham, we were more than intrigued: we got downright excited. We'd been dreaming of Newsom's hams for some time, and we even looked into getting a Newsom's country ham shipped to AEB headquarters in Montreal at one point, but we're sorry to say free trade ain't what it's cracked up to be.

It was a little too blustery to dine seated at the outdoor table for two you see pictured above, so we stepped inside and joined the short queue waiting inside the door of this slender, minimal restaurant with the short, minimal name. Ten minutes later we had our table and our menus and it took about 2 seconds to make up our minds about our order: country ham biscuit with fig jam and aged Grafton Village cheddar for her, eggs over easy, cheese grits, and artisanal bacon for him. The grits, from South Carolina's Anson Mills, were quite possibly the best I'd ever had. They weren't really cheese grits, they were more along the lines of "grits with cheese," but I couldn't have cared less because the grits themselves were truly awesome. The bacon was ridiculously good too, and cooked to tender perfection--such a rarity. But that country ham biscuit was simply out of control. What it lacked in volume--it's fairly compact and is easily dwarfed by its plate--it more than made up for in complexity of flavor. That ham, that cheese, that jam--we're talking a veritable symphony. I can't say I'm a connoisseur when it comes to Southern hams (sadly, I might add), but it's hard for me to imagine a better-tasting ham. Dark and smoky, with an almost crumbly texture that reminded me of a fine Parmigiano Reggiano, this was a ham with character to spare. Michelle enjoyed every last morsel. And when she'd made it disappear we ordered a generous side order of Newsom's ham for the road. Pretty much the best $4 we've ever spent.

From there we crossed the bridge

fig. b: Brooklyn as seen from the Williamsburg Bridge

and made our way into the Lower East Side.

Essex Street Market

We paid a visit to the Essex Street Market for the first time since its make-over and while we were at Saxelby Cheesemongers sampling some cheeses and having a friendly chat with one of the cheesemongers (eventually we bought some artisanal butter), we both couldn't help but notice an odd-looking café just to the right of the cheese counter. A few tables, a short-order cook behind the counter composing his short orders, an informal, open setting--nothing too strange about that, right? Aside from the fact that there was a waitress, the format was pretty much the same as any other North American food court operation. Except that we found ourselves looking at the plates that were getting served, trying to figure out what kind of food they served, and, try as we might, we just couldn't pin it down. Some plates looked vaguely Mexican, others vague Southeast Asian, but none of the plates looked entirely like one thing or the other. Then we noticed their hot sauces. This place had a massive selection, and, again, they spanned the globe (Mexican, Caribbean, Southeast Asian, American, etc.). And then there was the grizzled beatnik manning the kitchen. After puzzling over things for a minute or so, we both came to the same tentative conclusion: "Shopsin's? Here?" And so it was.

We'd been having elaborate Shopsin's fantasies ever since we read Calvin Trillin's "Don't Mention It," his in-depth account of the Shopsin's mystique, in The New Yorker a few years back. We knew Kenny Shopsin had reopened his namesake restaurant in Greenwich Village sometime after his original "general store" was forced into retirement--we had no idea that he'd picked up and moved the operation yet again. Unfortunately, as brisk as our walk across the Williamsburg Bridge had been, it wasn't quite brisk enough to work off the country ham and grits we'd just finished wolfing down, so all we did was admire Shopsin's from the periphery. Correction: all we did was admire Shopsin's from the periphery and grab one of Shopsin's thoroughly unhinged menus,

fig. c: detail of Side 1 of Shopsin's menu

the better to prepare for our next trip to New York.

fig. d: one of #1 Dumpling House's #1 dumplings

#1 Dumpling House

Minutes later we had just enough room to run a little QC on #1 Dumpling House, and we're happy to report that their pork and chive dumplings and their sesame pancake with beef are both just as dazzling as ever.

fig. e: Saigon Bakery

Saigon Bakery

Post-#1 Dumpling, we were back to having no room, but that didn't stop us from following up on another lead and checking out Saigon Bakery in search of mind-blowing banh-mi, and as soon as we did it was clear to both of us that this was an opportunity that we couldn't possibly pass up on. Saigon Bakery is tucked away in the back of a jewelry store, but, make no mistake, this is a serious banh-mi joint. We ordered one of their massive--and I mean massive--meatball subs and promptly got our minds blown. These were luscious pork meatballs, they were hefty, they were packed into a big sub that was slathered with pork pâté and mayo and absolutely overstuffed with Saigon Bakery's fresh, flavorful (and spicy) fixins, and they forever changed our notion of what banh-mi means. You could have fed a family of four with that thing. You could have fed a family of four and made them very happy indeed. Definitely the best $3.75 we've ever spent.

Joanne Hendricks

A couple of hours later we were on the western extremity of Greenwich Village. We'd gone there in search of out of print, antiquarian, and unusual cookbooks and behind this handsome door

fig. f: Joanne Hendricks

that's exactly what we found. We knew from experience that New York's cookbook specialists could be very impressive, and Joanne Hendricks was just such a bookstore. We'd already had our minds blown by Saigon Bakery's meatball sub--now we found our minds getting majorly expanded by the curiosities at Joanne Hendricks. Like a good museum, or a sprawling flea market, a store like this exposes you to so many things you never even knew existed. We spent about an hour just browsing, each of us lost in our own little culinary world. Then we started talking to Joanne Hendricks herself--she was almost as excited about our impending pizza tour as we were--and the next thing we knew another hour had elapsed. In the end, I only picked up one book, but she's a beaut: Judith and Marguerite Herman's Cornucopia, a book I'd once pored over at my friend J.'s place some years ago (and had been coveting ever since). Here's a seasonally appropriate scan (complete with Mrs. Acton's Christmas Plum-Pudding receipt [courtesy of Tabitha Tickletooth]) to give you a small taste of Cornucopia's considerable charms and its striking two-tone printing:

fig. g: Cornucopia on plum pudding, holly, and mistletoe

The Strand

Our mandatory visit to The Strand only turned up one real gem and Michelle found it in their Rare Books department: The Merle Armitage Book of Food. I mean, what can you say about a book that combines some pithy food writing, a collection of recipes that includes everything from Lapin au vin blanc to 'Possum and Sweet 'Taters, celebrity recipes from the likes of Lewis Mumford, Edgar Varèse, and James M. Cain, and "Four Vegetables," a four-page portfolio by Edward Weston? Beautiful layout, too, including, some more fine two-tone printing:

fig. h: Merle Armitage on food as art

Egg, 135 N. 5th St., Brooklyn, (718) 302-5151

Essex Street Market, 120 Essex St. (at Delancey), Manhattan

#1 Dumpling House, 118 Eldridge St., Manhattan, (212) 625-8008

Saigon Bakery, 138 Mott St., Manhattan, (212) 941-1541

Joanne Hendricks, 488 Greenwich St., Manhattan, (212) 226- 5731

Strand Bookstore, 828 Broadway (at 12th St.), Manhattan, (212) 473-1452

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