High, Low, and In Between, pt. 2, rev. ed.

I'm sure there were some who questioned the sanity of driving 1,800 kilometres (each way!) to spend Christmas in Charleston, but to us it made perfect sense to spend the holidays in the Holy City.  And it was definitely something of a pilgrimage.

For one thing, just crossing into South Carolina taken on its own is a big deal, as anyone who's ever made the trek by car down to Florida will tell you:  SC is when you start to see the palm trees, and when the air starts to get a bit balmy.

We were also looking for culture, and history, and architecture.

But most of all, we were looking forward to Charleston's renowned cuisine.  And if the weather was nice, all the better.

 fig. a:  ocean time

A Charleston, SC primer:

This is a city that contains a truly mind-boggling number of churches and ex-churches,

 fig. b:  ex-church

not to mention an impressive number of Synagogues, all of which are a big part of the reason the city earned its moniker.

Its historic districts are riddled with mysterious alleyways.

 fig. c:  mystery lane

Its architecture can be quirky,

 fig. d:  shell building

and its cemeteries spooky.

 fig. e:  Magnolia Cemetery

It's a city and a region haunted by its history.





 figs. f, g, h:  Magnolia Plantation

It has a very unique landscape, one that is oftentimes dominated by the marshes and wetlands that made it a natural for rice production.



 figs. i, j:  wetlands

It's a region of independent-minded characters,

 fig. k:  shrine

many of whom we instantly recognized as kindred spirits.

 fig. l:  kindred spirit

And it's safe to say that these people are serious about their food, and that the region is positively abundant with fruits, vegetables, legumes, and seafood of all kinds.





 figs. m, n, o:  Ruke's!

Ruke's, in Mount Pleasant, SC, was our local farmstand.  We were astounded by the plenitude we found there--in December!--and we made a point of loading up on collards, black-eyed peas, field peas, butter beans, and pecans before we left.

 fig. p:  peas and "peacans"

We also loved Ruke's boiled peanuts and quickly got hooked on the habit of throwing our very own Happy Hour at our B & B with some hot boiled peanuts and a couple of ice-cold beers.

Of course, Ruke's wasn't the only local stand offering boiled peanuts.  We found them all over the place.

Now, we didn't actually try the boiled "p-nuts" at this establishment, but we did buy some of their insanely delicious raw honey,

 fig. q:  p-nuts

and we also had quite a run-in there.

 fig. r:  squatch!

If Ruke's was our favourite farm stand, Timbo's was definitely our favourite boiled peanuts cart.  His boiled peanuts were piping-hot, they were seasoned to perfection, and the Timbo's experience came complete with a super friendly mascot--Max, the Australian shepherd, who was kind enough to let me photograph him (along with Timbo).

 fig. s:  Timbo's

And if Ruke's was our favourite farm stand, and Timbo's our favourite boiled peanuts joint, well, there's no question that Martha Lou's was our favourite soul food kitchen.

 fig. t:  Martha Lou's

Martha Lou's is a classic meat-and-three specializing in fried chicken, and we definitely loved their fried chicken, but in many ways it was the "three" that stole the show, especially their luscious butter beans, their smoky dirty rice, their silky collards, their oh-so-satisfying mac & cheese, and their deeply roasted candied yams.  Just how good is Martha Lou's?  Good enough to go twice over the course of a lightning-fast four-day visit.  And the second time we made a point of getting all our favourite sides à la carte--in larger formats.  It was worth going back just for those butter beans alone.

 fig. u:  The Ordinary

Charleston's Got Mad Skills:

You're obviously taking a risk when you name your restaurant The Ordinary, but if you do happen to knock it out of the park, you'll have people like me quipping that The Ordinary is anything but.  The Ordinary doesn't even look ordinary--it's actually a gorgeous, even grandiose seafood restaurant that resides inside a former bank.  It's also the latest offering from the people who brought you FIG, one of the catalysts of Charleston's recent culinary renaissance.  Put simply, everything was extra-ordinary, from the heirloom pumpkin soup with bay scallops, to the seafood platter, to the breathtaking rice pudding we had for dessert.

McCrady's has to be the restaurant that's most closely connected with Charleston's recent culinary revival.  It's the place where Sean Brock first rose to national/international prominence (and where he won his James Beard Award in 2010 as Best Chef Southeast), and where he's still executive chef.  But it's also a time-honoured establishment--it began as a tavern in 1778.  In spite of a slow start, this was quite possibly our Meal of the Year.  Once our sommelière showed up, and we clicked with her over the pleasures of Gamay, things started to happen, and, as a wise man once put it, "if you get in the stream, you are off!"  Frankly, everything was great, but standouts included the Calico scallops with roasted butternut squash, chervil, and green peanuts; the trout with Meyer lemon, thyme, and a medley of brassicas (in fact, that the wood-fired cabbage was so totally transcendent that we ordered it a second time); the fall greens salad with charred pecans, country ham, apples and turnips (this was most definitely the Salad of the Year); and the frozen parfait of grits with a bright, juicy, huckleberry coulis, which was both dangerous, and dangerously delicious.

Butcher & Bee is the new-fangled luncheonette of your dreams, featuring phenomenal bread (they do the bread & biscuits baking for McCrady's and Husk), an enticing line-up of sandwiches (like their pimento cheese and country ham combo), and some wonderfully creative (and tasty!) salads (including their magnificently vibrant kale slaw).  Great selection of sodas, too, including Michelle's Soda of the Year:  Mr. Q. Cumber (guess the flavour!).

  fig. v:  yes, they are!

The Hominy Grill is a full-service restaurant that does a brisk trade in breakfast & brunch and that serves a definitive shrimp & grits plate, as well as an amazing biscuit & sausage gravy plate, and some wicked-looking Big Nasties.

If you're looking for barbecue in Charleston itself, the local branch of Jim 'n Nick's Community Bar-B-Q is the place to go.  It's exactly the kind of new-fangled barbecue establishment you wish you had in your hometown, because in spite of any ironic old-timey-ness they might be selling, these guys take their barbecue seriously, the results are sultry 'n' smoky (check out those spare ribs!), and they've got all the sides and the fixin's down pat, too (from their slaw, to their slow-cooked collards, to their mac & cheese).  After all, Jim 'n Nick's comes with a pedigree--they're a crucial part of the Fatback Collective team of old-school barbecue aficionados, and, therefore, very well connected.

 fig. w:  nightcap at the Belmont

Our favourite place for a nightcap was The Belmont.

The best (and cutest) sweets shop we encountered was Sugar Bake Shop, whose cupcakes, cookies, and iced tea were all superlative.

  fig. x:  home comfort

And Page's Thieves' Market in Mount Pleasant was definitely our favourite antiques shop of our trip.  It was also the friendliest, the one with the most character, and the one that was the most kitchen-friendly.  And it had the best name, too.

In a sense, my title is a little misleading, because in Charleston and environs, when it comes to food, distinctions between high, low, and "in between" aren't nearly as rigid as they are in so many other places.  This is a region that self-identifies as the Low Country, after all, and traditional ingredients, like grits, golden rice, and peanuts, and preparations, like corn bread, appeared repeatedly during our stay.  In fact, everywhere we went, the overwhelming sensation was one of pride in the local cuisine.  And, frankly, that's our kind of town.

Particulars:

Ruke's farm stand, right next to the Holy Trinity AME Church, 378 Mathis Ferry Rd., Mount Pleasant, SC

Timbo's Boiled Peanuts, 2484 Ashley River Rd., Charleston, SC

Martha Lou's Kitchen, 1068 Morrison Rd., Charleston, SC, (843) 577-9583

The Ordinary, 544 King St., Charleston, SC,  (843) 414-7060

McCrady's, 2 Unity Alley, Charleston, SC, (843) 577-0025

Butcher & Bee, 654 King St., Charleston, SC,  (843) 619-0202

Hominy Grill, 207 Rutledge Ave., Charleston, SC, (843) 937-0930

Jim 'n Nick's Community Bar-B-Q, 288 King St., Charleston, SC, (843) 577-0406

The Belmont, 511 King St., Charleston, SC

Sugar Bake Shop, 59 1/2 Cannon St., Charleston, SC, (843) 579-2891

aj

On the Road 7: VA & NC, Pt. 1

 fig. a:  Blue Ridge view

Sometimes the Mason-Dixon Line, and points south, can seem like worlds away--and, in a sense, they are.  But it only takes the better part of a day to drive down from Lower Canada into Virginia, which means it only takes the better part of a day to make it to the Blue Ridge Mountains and the Shenandoah Valley.  And once you've made it to the Shenandoah Valley, you've officially entered a region of the United States of America that I like to call the Ham Belt, a region that encompasses Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee, Kentucky, and beyond, where the ages-old tradition of smoked and aged country hams is still very much alive and well.

A case in point:  Fulks Run Grocery, in Fulks Run, VA, right in the heart of the Shenandoah Valley and just minutes from interstate 81, home of the Turner Ham House and Turner sugar-cured country hams.

Fulks Run Grocery/Turner Ham House, Inc.

Times have changed since the photograph on this postcard was first taken, but the Fulks Run Grocery sure hasn't changed much.

 fig. b:  that was then

This is the way it looks today.  They no longer have a filling station, and guns & ammo aren't nearly as big a part of their trade, but country hams still are, and the grocery's just as charming as ever.

 fig. c:  this is now

You can get a whole range of Turner Ham House products there, including full sugar-cured hams, ham trimmings, sugar-cured bacon, and the cutest, tastiest little freshly made ham sandwiches.  I happened to catch them at a time when they were out of whole hams--they had a batch ready, but the inspector hadn't been by to approve them yet.  But I loaded up on every other kind of ham product I could get my hands on, including several ham sandwiches.  I bought a block of aged cheddar to further enhance my sandwiches, a bag of delicious Route 11 kettle-cooked, "unhurried," potato chips (the pride of Mount Jackson, VA), and a Boylan soda, and had myself a little tailgate picnic.

 fig. d:  tailgate party

Those Turner Ham House people were friendly, too.  We talked about everything from ham, to new-batch maple syrup (from West Virginia), to growing up in Northern Virginia, to Volkswagens (!), and they had some great tips for me, too, like Wade's Mill stone-ground flours and grits.  As Peggie Turner told me, "If you like grits, you're going to love Wade's Mill's."  Lord knows, I do love grits.

Wade's Mill

 fig. e:  mill & buggy

Wade's Mill of Raphine, VA, has been a fully functioning flour mill since the late 19th century (1882, to be exact), but in recent years it's become something of a foodie destination.

 fig. f:  Wade's Mill

They continue to mill superior flours and grits just as they always have, but the Kennedy-Wade family has also branched out a bit.  They host cooking classes and receptions on the grounds that surround the historic old mill, and they stock a wide variety of specialty food products, cookware, and dinnerware in their shop, alongside their own Wade's Mill line.

I was pretty single-mindedly focused on their grits and their cornmeal, though.  That's all I was really looking for, and Peggie Turner was right:  their grits truly are superior.  Their grains are sourced locally, their grind is ideal, and their corn products are bursting with flavour.  And, if you live in the States, they'd be happy to ship some to you.

When in Asheville...

...have yourself a good-ole time.  This town's built for them.

I mean they've got music, arts, culture, food, and beer in spades, and it's a real pretty town, too.

My favourite cultural landmark was the Thomas Wolfe Memorial, located next to, and including, Old Kentucky Home, the boarding house owned and operated by Wolfe's mother, Julia, in the early 20th century.  I've been interested in Mr. Wolfe ever since I tore through Look Homeward, Angel back in high school, and I had a true Southern Gentleman for a tour guide, with the sweetest Florida drawl and the saltiest sense of humour, like Tupelo honey with country ham and biscuits on a cool spring morning.  But one of my favourite parts of the tour was our visit to Julia's bright, roomy, and highly functional kitchen.



 figs. g & h:  Julia's kitchen

The Black Mountain College Museum + Arts Center is a tiny shopfront space in downtown Asheville, but it's one of the last tangible traces of Black Mountain College and its impact on 20th century art, design, and pedagogy.  You can watch a video detailing the history of Black Mountain College and check out shows devoted to its legacy, and you can purchase Black Mountain College books and paraphernalia in their tiny shop area.

You can even pick up a copy of Ernest Matthew Mickler's phenomenal (and fascinating) White Trash Cooking (1986), a true treasure trove of Southern vernacular cuisine, because it appeared as a co-production of The Jargon Society, the "high-falutin'-cum-demotic writer's press" founded by Jonathan Williams way back in 1951on the grounds of Black Mountain College.



 fig. i & j:  trash culture

I knew Mickler's book was awesome--part William Eggleston, part Harry Crews, part good, ole-fashioned, Southern, spiral-bound community cookbook, it was an instant classic when it appeared in the mid-1980s--but I'd never made the Black Mountain connection until I visited the museum + arts center.

Beer-wise:  this town's motto ought to be "Don't Worry, Be Hoppy," because it's become a major hub in the American craft beer scene--something akin to the Portland, OR, of the Southeast.  I mean, this town's got such a vibrant beer culture that it operates craft brewery bus tours.  We're talking more breweries per capita than any other city in America.  I didn't have the time, the funds, or the suds-swilling capacity to conduct a comprehensive survey, but local favourites included the Asheville Brewing Company's Shiva I.P.A. and Rocket Girl lager and the Pisgah Brewing Company's I.P.A. and Tripel.

Food-wise:  there's all kinds of tasty grub to be had, from international to contemporary, but what I had my heart set on was Southern and New Southern, and that was exactly what I found.  I had exceptionally good food at Early Girl Eatery (pan-fried trout with pecan butter, German walnut cake, etc.), Tupelo Honey (New South sautéed greens, fried green tomatoes, biscuits, etc.), the Sunny Point Café (asparagus & country ham scramble, chipotle-cheese grits, etc.), and a definitive mint julep at Seven Sows Bourbon & Larder* on the day of the running of the 139th Kentucky Derby, but my favourite meal was some new-fangled barbecue at 12 Bones.

As their name suggests, 12 Bones have wisely made ribs their focus.  Ribs aren't a major part of the North Carolina tradition, but who in their right mind could fault a place for serving smoky baby backs, here, there, or anywhere?  In fact, 12 Bones are new-fangled in the best possible sense:  not hidebound by tradition, but still deeply respectful of Southern foodways.  "These ain't your pappy's ribs," a sign on the wall reads, but that's because they make them right--slow-smoked over real hardwood--not because they reinvented the rack.

 fig. k:  wood pile

Their prices were right, too:  order "6 bones" (a half-rack) and you get two sides and cornbread for $11.50; order "12 bones" (you got it:  a full rack) and you get the same two sides and cornbread for a mere $19.50.  Especially because, not only were their ribs great, but so were the mac & cheese, the sweet vinegar cole slaw, and the baked beans I had as sides.

 fig. l:  6 bones @ 12 Bones

To top things off, 12 Bones doubles as craft beer haven.  They've always got a nice selection of local brews on tap, and they're priced to move.

Not surprisingly, 12 Bones is a very popular place.  If we had one around here, I'd be there once a week.  Line-ups are inevitable, but they move fairly quickly and the crowd and the service is friendly.  Their River location (in central Asheville) is only open Monday through Friday, but if you happen to be in Asheville on the weekend (like I was), just head south along Sweeten Creek Rd., past the Mormons, the Scientologists, and the Jazzercise studio, and you'll find that their South location in nearby Arden, NC, is open on Saturdays from 11 a.m. to 4 p.m., with carry-out available until 6 p.m.

addresses:

Fulks Run Grocery/Turner Ham House, Inc., 11441 Brocks Gap Rd., Fulks Run, VA

Wade's Mill, 55 Kennedy-Wade's Mill, Raphine, VA

Thomas Wolfe Memorial, 52 North Market St., Asheville, NC

Black Mountain College Museum + Arts Center, 56 Broadway St., Asheville, NC

Early Girl Eatery, 8 Wall St., Asheville, NC

Tupelo Honey, 12 College St., Asheville, NC

Sunny Point Café, 626 Haywood Dr., Asheville, NC

Seven Sows Bourbon & Larder, 77 Biltmore Ave., Asheville, NC

12 Bones, 5 Riverside Dr., Asheville, NC and 3578 Sweeten Creek Rd. in nearby Arden, NC

aj

* Speaking of the Ham Belt, Seven Sows carries a pretty impressive range of country smokehouse products, including whole hams (some of them heirloom varieties) that you can take home with you (!).

Top Ten #49

1.  NC BBQ pilgrimage

2.  The Place Beyond the Pines (2012), dir. Cianfrance



3.  Kurt Vile, Wakin on a Pretty Daze (Matador)



4.  Turner country hams, bacon, and ham sandwiches, Fulks Run, VA + Wade's Mill cornmeal & grits, Raphine, VA

5.  The Central Park Five (2012), dir. Burns, Burns, and McMahon

6.  earthen oven building class, Yestermorrow Design/Build School, Waitsfield, VT



7.  real VA & NC peanuts

8.  Tabloid (2010), dir. Morris



9.  v/a, Delta Swamp Rock, vol. 2 (Soul Jazz)

10.  Asheville, NC + Black Mountain, NC

aj

On the road 5: Zingerman's Roadhouse

 fig. a:  the Roadhouse

If only road food was this easy all the time.  I mean, sure, there wouldn't be the thrill of the hunt, but at least we'd be fully satisfied.

You might have heard of the good people at Zingerman's.  They established a delicatessen in Ann Arbor, Michigan, back in 1982 that long ago became a legend.  They knew what it took to keep the Jewish deli tradition alive, and they knew how to name a good sandwich,* but things didn't stop there.  Not only did they fashion themselves into perhaps the country's premier purveyor of fine foods, featuring a brilliantly curated selection of America's must-have regional specialties, but they established a veritable empire of good eats and tasty treats right there in Ann Arbor.  In addition to the deli, Zingerman's line-up now includes a bake shop, a creamery, a coffee shop, a candy "manufactory," and Zingerman's Roadhouse, their full-service restaurant.

Visiting the constellation of Zingerman's businesses in quick succession is a feat that requires so much will power, so much self-control (it's all so tempting!), that Zingerman's has named it the Tour de Food and actually enters all those who successfully complete the circuit in a 24-hour period in a rather generous draw (you stand to win a $250 gift certificate).  But for those who are just passing through Ann Arbor, the Roadhouse makes for an awfully convenient and delicious pit stop, and a great introduction to Zingerman's particular brand of magic.  Imagine a restaurant that served all your favorite American comfort foods, using only the very best ingredients sourced from the best producers across the continent, and prepared with the utmost care.  Imagine that same restaurant adding a top-notch barbecue pit** built into a vintage Airstream directly adjacent to it.  Now imagine that restaurant situated in a Eastern Michigan strip mall just seconds from the I-94.  That's Zingerman's Roadhouse for you, and if you've got an aversion to dining in strip malls, well, it's time to get over it because you don't want to miss out on a place like this.

 fig. b:  exterior decorating

When you step up to the restaurant, you're going to have to decide whether you want to go to the restaurant, or visit the barbecue/bake shop/coffee shop next to it.  I recommend that you do both:  visit the restaurant, eat to your heart's content, then swing by the Airstream to pick up some goodies for later.

 fig. c:  the perfect brunch

If you happen to visit Zingerman's Roadhouse in the morning, you'll find an extensive breakfast & brunch menu to choose from.  For brunch there's a full assortment of omelettes, waffles, and egg dishes to choose from, and some of them get kind of elaborate, but you might just want to go for the grits & eggs combo, featuring Anson Mills stone-ground grits, eggs any style, scallions and Cabot aged cheddar, fresh biscuits, Nueske's applewood-smoked bacon, sorghum molasses, homemade preserves, and a side of homemade hot sauce (upon request).  That was exactly what I wanted, and it was exactly what I got.  Even better, it was just as good as I imagined.  Really good coffee, too.

Jeez, why couldn't every brunch be like this?

 fig. d:  streamlined for better smoking

Afterwards, I paid a visit to the Airstream to pick up some treats for the road.  I mean, I had to make it all the way to Montreal that day--I was going to want to have lunch at some point, right?

So I picked up a smoked whole hog pulled pork sandwich, some Zapp's potato chips, and another coffee for the road.

 fig. e:  pulled pork picnic

And wouldn't you know it, a few hours later I had myself just about the tastiest picnic lunch you could imagine, considering I was traveling along the 401.  The only thing was that I forgot to ask for a side of some barbecue sauce or hot sauce.  Good thing I just happened to have a bottle of Arthur Bryant's barbecue sauce on hand (!).  You know what they say:  Be prepared.

Zingerman's Roadhouse and Road Show, 2501 Jackson Ave., Ann Arbor, MI, (734) 663-FOOD

aj

* Actually, naming is a big part of the Zingerman's story.  They were meant to be called Greenberg's, but then one thing led to another...

** How good?  Well, Jane & Michael Stern included Zingerman's in their list of the top barbecue joints in America when they put together their special BBQ edition of Popular Plates back in 2010.  When they did, they wrote:  "...Zingerman's goes beyond any ordinary definition of a barbecue restaurant.  But we would be horribly remiss not to include it here, because the pulled pork is as succulent as any found in North Carolina [!], and it is only a slight exaggeration to say it melts in your mouth."  That's a helluva claim, and I haven't traveled the BBQ trails of the Carolinas extensively enough to weigh in with any authority, but I can say that that pulled pork sandwich tasted mighty fine to me.  I would have served it on a bit less bready of a roll (Zingerman's uses one of their famous onion rolls), but that's just me.

Grits, Asian-American Style

fig. a: Anson Mills coarse white grits

A stamped white paper bag, a Pyrex measuring cup, and some white grits.

Doesn't look like much, I know. But those aren't just any grits, they're Anson Mills antebellum coarse white grits, the grits David Chang has called "the killerest grits ever."

These grits being "the killerest," you could make them straight-up, add some salt and pepper, add a little butter, and you'd be sitting pretty, but you're not going to settle for straight-up, are you? Didn't think so.

No, you're going to follow David Chang and Team Momofuku on one of their flights of fancy. People often misunderstand the Momofuku experience as being just another example of "Asian fusion." Now, there's no question that there's some fusion going on within the Momofuku empire, but there's also quite a bit of fission. And, yes, Asian elements figure prominently. But there's a side to David Chang that's almost Kenny Shopsin-like. As far as I know, he hasn't invented any countries, then set about creating their national cuisines, but there's more imagination than one generally associates with the term fusion. The narratives are richer. They're more profane. They're also a hell of a lot funnier.

As Chang describes things, Momofuku Noodle Bar's Shrimp & Grits was a pivotal dish, because aside from the Asianesque broth that Chang used to make the grits, and that you couldn't actually see, "there was no Asian foundation, relation, or appearance to the dish. No other "noodle bar" was serving shrimp and grits."

The idea, the dream, behind the dish was to take a down-home Southern soul food classic, disarticulate it, ruminate on it, and then reanimate it in Momofuku's laboratories:

I imagined what it would be like if my ancestors had ended up in Charleston, South Carolina, a few generations before I was born. They would have eaten corn, they would have eaten grits, they would have cooked with bacon. Or, if Southerners were magically transplanted to Korea, they'd eat jook instead of grits at breakfast. And you know a people who can handle the salty power of a country ham certainly could have gotten down with kimchi. I imagined a Japanese cook making grits--you know he'd boil it in dashi and season it with soy.

I guess these were all conversations I was having with myself. I didn't want to be cooking shitty fusion food. I consoled myself by thinking about how Vietnamese cuisine and Cajun cooking adapted French techniques into something that might have looked French but tasted totally different. But it was with this dish that I decided--or accepted--that if we reached past "tradition" to create the truest and best version of a dish for our own palates, then what we were doing wasn't bullshit.

Chang recommends making this dish with either his Ramen Broth or his Bacon Dashi. We went with the latter a) because it's way simpler, b) because it's way cheaper to make, and c) because it's another great example of the Momofuku Philosophy at play. As Chang puts it:

I can't overstate the significance of bacon dashi to us at Momofuku. It's not the dashi itself--though it is delicious--but the thought process that went into it. The successful transposition of bacon from Tennessee for Japanese dried and smoked fish was an important early success for us, and it continues to be a driving inspiration of how we cook.

We respect tradition and we revere many traditional flavor profiles, but we do not subscribe to the idea that there's one set of blueprints that everyone should follow.

So the following are Chang's instructions (more or less verbatim), using Momofuku's Bacon Dashi.

Still can't see what all the fuss is about? Well, here goes:

fig. b: before

Momofuku Shrimp & Grits

2 cups water
2 cups white or yellow quick-cooking grits, preferably from Anson Mills (SC)
2 cups Bacon Dashi (recipe follows)
2 tablespoons light soy sauce, such as usukuchi
kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
8 tbsp unsalted butter, cut into pieces
1/2 pound smoky bacon, such as Benton's (TN) or North Country Smokehouse (NH), cut crosswise into 1- to 1 1/2-inch-long lardons
1 pound medium shrimp (16 to 20 count), shelled
2 tbsp grapeseed or other neutral oil, such as canola
4 freshly poached eggs
1/2 cup chopped scallions, greens and whites included

Combine the water and grits and soak the grits overnight (or for at least 8 hours) in the pot you'll cook them in.

Drain the grits, add the broth to the grits, and bring to a simmer over medium-high heat, whisking all the while. Continue to whisk for 5 minutes after the liquid simmers, then turn the heat down to low. You'll reach "first starch"--the point at which the fine corn particles thicken the liquid just enough to suspend the larger particles--after 5 minutes, and it's crucial to whisk constantly until you reach that point, and to turn the heat down immediately afterwards.

Add the soy sauce, a large pinch of salt, and some freshly ground black pepper. Keep the heat low and whisk regularly if not constantly; the grits should be thickening, undulating, and letting occasional gasps of steam bubble up and out. Soaked grits will be cooked after about 10 minutes over low heat. They're ready when they're no longer grainy, and they've become thick and unctuous.

Add the butter, stirring until it has melted and been absorbed into the grits. Taste them and add additional salt and pepper as needed. Set aside, covered to keep warm, while you get the rest of the dish in order (or serve them at once if you can't take it anymore and you just want to eat them solo).

Put the shrimp in a mixing bowl, pour the oil over them, and add a couple pinches of salt. Toss them in the oil and salt until they're coated. Set aside while you take care of the bacon.

Cook the bacon in a 12-inch cast-iron skillet over medium heat until the lardons have shrunk to about half their original size and are crispy, about 5 to 6 minutes. Remove the bacon with a slotted spoon and drain them on paper towels. Drain the bacon fat from the pan and reserve for another later use. Return the pan to the stove.

Make sure you've got your eggs poached and ready to go. They're ready? Good. Proceed.

Wipe the pan cleanish with a paper towel and turn the heat up to high. Cook the shrimp in two batches. As soon as the shrimp hit the pan, press down on them, using a bacon press, the back of a big spatula, a flattish pot lid, or a smaller pan--whatever works (we've found that a flattish pot lid works best for us). Sear the shrimp for about 1 minute on the first side. Watch the shrimp closely. As the gray-pink flesh of the raw shrimp gradually turns white in the side pressed against hot pan, and when that white line creeps about 40% of the way up the shrimp, flip them and press down on the second side. Sear that side only long enough to brown them a bit, about 30-45 seconds. Ideally, they should be just slightly shy of cooked when you pull them from the pan--they'll continue to cook after they come out of the pan. Use your judgment. Cook them a little longer if you prefer, but, remember, nobody likes overcooked shrimp. Nobody. Not even you.

Make up plates for 4. Shallow soup plates are ideal. Start with a big helping of grits, nestle a poached egg in the middle, and arrange 1/4 of the bacon, 1/4 of the shrimp, and 1/4 of the scallions in separate piles around the edge. Serve at once. Savor.

Serves 4.

Momofuku Bacon Dashi

2 x 3-by-6-inch pieces of kombu
8 cups water
1/2 pound smoky bacon, such as Benton's (TN) or North Country Smokehouse (NH)

Rinse the kombu under running water, then combine it with the water in a medium saucepan. Bring the water to a simmer over medium heat, then turn off the stove. Let steep for 10 minutes

Remove the kombu from the pot and add the bacon. Bring to a boil, then turn the heat down so that the water simmers gently, and simmer for 30 minutes.

Strain the bacon from the dashi, and chill the broth until the fat separates and hardens into a solid cap on top of it. Remove and discard the fat and use the dashi or store it. Bacon dashi will keep, covered, for a few days in the refrigerator. You can also freeze it for later use.*

Makes 2 quarts. You'll only need 2 cups of this for the shrimp & grits, so you'll have plenty left over for other uses.

[both recipes from Momofuku by David Chang and Peter Meehan]

The resultant dish is one that's remarkably subtle, but utterly irrepressible. When I finished making the dish the first time, I remember saying to Michelle that I was surprised that the recipe didn't call for some kind of Asian-inflected sauce that you'd drizzle overtop, but then I went and took my first bite and suddenly I understood.

The taste sensation comes from below. It's deep in the grits, it's released by the butter that finishes the grits, and it's transformed into something that's positively rapturous when you take your fork and release the egg yolk and stir it up with the grits, the shrimp, the egg, the bacon, and the scallions.

fig. c: after

Are you starting to get it?

aj

P.S. A note on sources: as I've mentioned before, quality shrimp can be hard to find in Montreal, and this dish requires some reasonably fresh, juicy, tasty shrimp, so don't bother making it if you're not satisfied with the product at your local fishmonger, or, better yet, shop around. Sometimes quality can vary greatly from one poissonerie to the next. The best shrimp we've found in recent months have been at Poissonerie Shamrock (7015 Casgrain Ave., 272-5612) and at Norref (4900 Molson St., 593-9999).

You can use other brands of grits, of course, but Anson Mills' grits are pretty killer. Be sure to use quick-cooking grits, though, or you'll find yourself stirring furiously for an awfully long time.

* Among other things, Chang claims it's great with clams. I haven't had the chance to test this out yet, but I believe him.