EAT: Shrimp n' Grits

All this cold weather has got me thinking of a big dish of warm & comforting shrimp n' grits! I hear they do a good job of it at the new-ish Joseph Leonard. But I also found this great recipe on the Anson Mills site:

Equipment Mise en Place
For this recipe you will need a medium, heavy-bottomed saucepan; a fine, conical strainer; a small (1-quart) saucepan; a large nonstick skillet; a set of tongs; and a whisk.

Ingredients
1 pound medium-sized, shell-on shrimp
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 medium onion, small dice
1 small stalk celery, small dice
2 large garlic cloves, sliced
4 cups spring or filtered water
1 teaspoon tomato paste
3 full sprigs fresh thyme
1 Turkish bay leaf
1 teaspoon whole, cracked black peppercorns
1 strip lemon peel
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature
1 tablespoon flour
2 ounces thick smoked bacon or real country ham, minced (3 tablespoons)
2 large shallots, minced (1/4 cup)
1 teaspoon fine sea salt
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 scallion, white and green part, thinly sliced
1 recipe hot, freshly prepared Anson Mills Antebellum Coarse or Carolina Quick Grits

Directions
1. Peel and devein the shrimp, reserving the shells. Dry the shrimp between layers of paper towels and refrigerate until ready to use. Heat the olive oil in a medium-sized, heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium heat. Add the shrimp shells, onion, celery, and garlic and sauté until the shells are crisp and the aromatics tender, 10 minutes. Add the water, tomato paste, thyme, bay, peppercorns, and lemon peel. Cover and bring to a simmer over medium heat. Reduce the heat and simmer, partially covered, until the stock is flavorful and reduced, about 1 hour. Strain the stock into a small saucepan (there should be about 1 1/2 cups), and keep hot.

2. While the stock is cooking, mash the butter and flour into a smooth paste in a small bowl and set aside.

3. Sauté the bacon or ham in a large, nonstick skillet over medium-low heat until crisp, 8 to 10 minutes. Move it to the periphery of the skillet and increase the heat to medium. Arrange the shrimp in a single layer and sear until pink. Sprinkle the shallots over the shrimp, toss, and cook until the shrimp is done, about one minute. Add salt, red pepper flakes, and black pepper. Using tongs, transfer the shrimp to a warm plate. Add the hot stock to the skillet and bring to a boil over high heat. Whisk in the reserved butter and flour mixture. Cook until thickened, about 20 seconds. Return the shrimp to the pan and taste sauce for seasoning.

4. To serve, spoon the hot grits into shallow bowls. Top with shrimp and sauce. Sprinkle with chopped scallions.

SCENE: World Grits Festival 4/17 - 19

In late 1985, the store manager of the St. George S.C. Piggly Wiggly Supermarket, Bill Hunter, was giving a broker of a large Grits company an order for grits. The broker made a remark that his company sure shipped a lot of grits into St. George, considering how small the town was and its meager population (around 2,000 at the time). A week or two later another broker from another major grits company made a similar remark about the large quantity of grits shipped into this small town. The manager spoke with the two owners of the Piggly Wiggly, John Walters and George Axson. They all agreed that if it proved to be true that we did consume a disproportionately large amount of grits that they would do some research to find out just how much we did eat.

As it turned out, the people of St. George actually ate more grits per capita than any other place in the world! We were the GRITS EATING CHAMPIONS!!! Thus the World Grits Festival was born. John Walters, one the owners of that Piggly Wiggly, was designated as the Chairman of the first festival, which was held in April 1986, and served in that capacity until 1988. Since the very first festival, this weekend long celebration has drawn much attention to this small Southern town, considered to be a bedroom community of Charleston, SC. It has been estimated that the crowds during this three day event sometimes exceed 45,000!

The festival is not, however, all fun and games. From the very start it has been dedicated to communtity improvement. It provides the local folks a festival of wholesome, family fun and our students some needed scholarships while also attracting lots of vistors to enjoy the multitude of events that are designed to appeal to persons of all ages. (source)

The World Grits Festival runs from 4/17 - 19 in St. George, SC.

EAT: GRANDMA'S GRITS by Michael A. Gonzales

Being raised by both my mother and grandmother had its advantages. Thinking back to life uptown during my 1970s wonder years, one of the first thoughts that come to mind is the food that was constantly cooking on our old stove.

Dark as mahogany, grandma came from Harrisonburg, Virginia; born into a family of country chefs who dwelled in the Negro neighborhood known as New Town (her own grandmother’s fresh biscuits and jelly were legendary), she seemed to think it was a sin if something wasn’t frying, broiling, simmering, boiling, baking or in the process of cooling off.

“Grandma cooks and mommy heats up,” I once told one of my mother’s friends. Yet, since grandma worked in a factory in New Jersey and was out of the flat before I awoke, Sunday mornings was the only time she made a full breakfast. Returning home from nine o’clock mass at St. Catherine of Genoa, where I was an altar-boy, the hearty smell of eggs, bacon, sausages and grits met me at the front door.

Though I’m not sure what was on my mind, I always said I didn’t want any grits. Maybe it was the way they looked or the way grits hardened in the pot when they were cold, but I wasn’t feeling them. “Boy don’t know what he missing, Mary,” grandma’s boyfriend Joe said and laughed. Staring at his plate, a yellow river of yolk from his over-easy eggs pooled into the grits.

“Well, if he don’t want’em, I can’t force him,” she replied. Although I could hear in her voice that my rejection of the grits was a slight betrayal to her, I refused to relent. In the same way that I (at the time) detested chicken and dumplings and pig feet, I spent my entire childhood gritless. A few years later, when I was fourteen, me, mom and baby brother moved to Baltimore. I stayed in the City of Poe graduating from high school. Then, in the August of ’81, I returned to Harlem and to my grandma’s soulful kitchen.

Although it was just the two of us living there, grandma still cooked as though an army was coming. Yet, as a freshman at Long Island University in Brooklyn, I became poplar because I often brought home hungry friends for Sunday dinner. “Now make sure you get enough,” she’ll say sweetly, her dark hands holding the spoon tightly as she put more food on our plates.

Afterwards, grandma wrapped-up the food in heavy aluminum foil and insisted my friend took some grub back to the dorm. I recall once asking if she had her recipes written down, but she just laughed. “I don’t need any recipes,” she said proudly, pointing to her temple. “I got them all up here.”

To this day, I can’t quite explain what got me eating grits; perhaps, as an adult, they became less gross or I just got more curious about what was such the big deal. I had put a little salt, butter and cheese on them, and shoved them in the mouth.

Expecting the worse, I was blown away by the taste. I thought about Joe, who had died years before, teasing me at Sunday breakfast. It was at that moment that my tongue began to do the happy dance. “Not you eating grits,” grandma blurted proudly that summer Sunday morning as we sat at the faux-wood kitchen table.

Fourteen years after grandma’s death on March 8, 1994, I still eat grits on Sunday mornings whenever possible; and with each massive forkful, I think about grandma. (end)

Michael A. Gonzales writes for Vibe, Stop Smiling and New York magazine, and blogs at uptownlife.net. A Harlem native with a southern sensibility, he lives in Brooklyn.