Pat Conroy Cookbook

by Pat Conroy

  Then it was Randy Randel’s time, and he was called on to shut down the Wade Hampton Generals. Already there was talk about Randy pitching in the major leagues one day. He set out to prove that there was substance to this talk. He struck out five of the first seven batters he faced, and the other two batters did not even get the ball out of the infield. Randy Randel had not allowed a hit when he fell to the ground after striking out his fifth batter. When the ambulance finally arrived and a girl named Pat Everette gave Randy mouth-to-mouth resuscitation until Dr. Herbert Keyserling moved her aside and injected a shot of pure adrenaline into his heart, every witness to Randy Randel’s fall to the earth had been changed and changed for all time. The doctor said that Randy had been dead when he hit the ground.

  In Eugene Norris’s English class the next day, Randy’s empty seat exuded a devastating sense of displacement and loss. His seat’s emptiness filled the room. The whole world seemed misplaced and ill-fitting. My class and I were in a state of shock when Gene Norris walked into the room, cleaning his glasses with his tie.

  “I was just thinking about grief and how we express it. Or how we don’t. Boys seem to have the toughest time showing how much they hurt, but the boys in here shouldn’t. Not in this room. Not among those who loved Randy with you.”

  The room came apart, and I cracked like an egg. I wept for two days and could do nothing to stop myself. I wrote my first poem about Randy’s death and gave it to his mother and father after the funeral. Nor did I have to call off my trip to Newberry because Randy was buried in Newberry with his mother’s people in the Rosemont Cemetery. I rode to Newberry with Gene Norris and stayed in his Uncle John and Aunt Elizabeth’s house, where I fell in love with Gene’s pretty cousin Liz, or “Cuz” as he called her.

  I did not know then that love and death could find each other at the same dance. Liz was a fetching and uncommonly lovely freshman at Columbia College, and I was smitten the moment she walked into the room. She walked with a dreamy, sophisticated air that made the high school boys who encountered her unsteady in our loafers.

  On the way to Randy’s burial service, I asked Mr. Norris, “Does Liz ever date high school boys, Mr. Norris?”

  “Of course not,” Gene said, dismissing the possibility out of hand. “She wouldn’t be caught dead with a high school Harry like you. Liz only dates the cream of the crop of the college boys. From the very best fraternities. Her boyfriend’s going to be a doctor. Yes, sir, a doctor.”

  “If she ever breaks up with her doctor friend, I’d sure be interested, Mr. Norris.”

  “Of course, you’d be interested, boy,” he said. “But she’s got big plans with Clemson men and leaders of fraternities. She left you high school Harrys back in the playgrounds a long time ago. Now, quit mooning over my cousin and start thinking about Randy.”

  When I got to Randy’s grandmother’s house, I could smell the food all the way up the hill on Main Street where we parked the car. His grandmother, Mrs. Smith, who would soon become Mamaw to me, introduced me to Dunbar Macaroni. She gave me the history, lore, and legend of the dish as she served me a large portion.

  “No one knows who Mr. Dunbar was. But we are absolutely sure he was a Newberrian. This dish is native to this town. You’ll never find another single soul eating this anywhere. But it’s delicious. Though there are two or three versions of the dish, I’m letting you eat mine. I made it the classic way. No frills or fuss.”

  I knew so little about food and the way it was prepared that all I remember about her Dunbar Macaroni was that she watched me closely as I ate her concoction of cheese and macaroni and onions. It was my first South Carolina funeral, and everything about that day remains bright, vivid, and profoundly sad. Though I had never felt sadder, I had never eaten better in my whole life. There was something scandalous to me about combining mourning Randy with the exquisite pleasures of a Newberry table.

  I did not eat Dunbar Macaroni again for thirty years. I was in the middle of finishing the novel Beach Music when I got a call from Gene Norris, late at night. He could hardly speak as he told me that his cousin Liz, the one who had infatuated me as a boy, had died in her sleep at the age of forty-nine. Liz had followed her plan with immaculate precision and married that Clemson fraternity man, who then set about to become a doctor. They had lived out their lives as important citizens of Newberry, raised two children, attended the Lutheran church, and had some fine years before it began to go wrong with them. Their divorce was almost final when she was found dead in her bed. Sadness had attached itself to her final years, and Gene would periodically ask me to call Liz to cheer her up when things were really bad. I tried to get Liz to come to a screening of The Prince of Tides in New York with Gene, but her lawyer said it could be used against her in court. I sent her a bottle of champagne that Barbra Streisand had sent to my hotel room after that screening. Liz called me to tell me she and several of her girlfriends had made an elaborate ceremony out of drinking that champagne. The note I had written to Liz when I sent her the champagne was hanging by a magnet on her refrigerator door when I gathered with her family after her burial.

  I was reading my note to Liz when one of her friends tapped me on the shoulder and said, handing me a plate, “You’ve got to eat this. It’s a Newberry County specialty. We call it Dunbar Macaroni.”

  I had never seen Liz Norris after that day of Randy’s funeral. We would speak on the phone, but our paths never crossed again. As I ate Dunbar Macaroni for the second time in my life, I said a prayer for Liz, and thought how strange it was that her high school Harry had finally caught up with her when it was far too late for either one of us.

  PICKLED SHRIMP When a good friend dies, I take two pounds of shrimp for the mourners. When a great friend dies, I go to five pounds. When I die, I fully expect all the shrimp in Beaufort to be pickled that day. • SERVES 6 TO 8

  1 cup thinly sliced yellow onion

  4 bay leaves, crushed

  One 2-ounce bottle capers, drained and coarsely chopped

  ¼ cup fresh lemon juice

  1 cup cider vinegar

  ½ cup olive oil

  1 teaspoon minced fresh garlic

  1 teaspoon coarse or kosher salt

  1 teaspoon celery seeds

  1 teaspoon red pepper flakes

  2 pounds large (21-25 count) shrimp, peeled and deveined

  1. Mix all the ingredients except the shrimp in a large heatproof glass or ceramic bowl.

  2. In a medium stockpot over high heat, bring 4 quarts abundantly salted water to a rolling boil. Add the shrimp and cook until just pink, about 2 minutes. (The shrimp will continue to “cook” in the marinade.) Drain and immediately transfer to the marinade.

  3. Bring to room temperature, cover tightly, and marinate overnight in the refrigerator. Transfer shrimp and marinade to a glass serving compote or bowl. Serve chilled.

  CHEDDAR CHEESE COINS Cheddar cheese coins are the popular old Southern standbys cheese straws, but our recipe majored in economics. They are mouthwateringly good and a welcome addition to any Southern table at any time of the year. • MAKES 72

  8 ounces extra-sharp orange cheddar cheese, grated (2 cups)

  12 tablespoons (1½ sticks) unsalted butter, chilled but not hard

  ½ teaspoon cayenne pepper

  ¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

  2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour

  1. Preheat the oven to 375°F.

  2. In the bowl of a standing mixer, cream the cheese and butter until well combined. Mix the cayenne and black pepper into the flour. Add the flour mixture slowly to the bowl, stopping to scrape down the sides, until the mixture forms a ball.

  3. Lightly flour a dry work surface and roll out the dough until ¼ inch thick. Using a 1½-inch straight-sided biscuit cutter, make the coins and transfer them to ungreased baking sheets. Reroll the scraps as needed.

  4. Prick the top of each coin several times with the tines of a fork and bake until golden brown, about 15 minutes.
Cool on a rack before serving.

  FRESH HAM It is worth all the trouble in the world to fix a fresh ham. It is worth all the trouble in the world to fix fresh anything. I cannot think of ham without thinking of Southern funerals, and I do not believe I have ever eaten lunch after a funeral in the South without at least one ham there to feed the multitudes.

  • SERVES A CROWD (AT LEAST 12 TO 14) WITH LEFTOVERS

  1 large garlic head, cloves separated and finely chopped (about 5 tablespoons)

  2 tablespoons dried thyme

  2 tablespoons coarse or kosher salt

  2 tablespoons freshly ground black pepper

  One 16-pound fresh ham, skin on

  1. Mix the garlic, thyme, salt, and pepper together in a bowl.

  2. Place the ham in a large heavy roasting pan.

  3. Cut 2-inch-long slashes in both sides of the ham and poke dozens of holes in it as well. Rub the salt mixture into the holes and over the outside of the ham. Let the ham absorb the seasoning for 1 hour at room temperature.

  4. Preheat the oven to 450°F.

  5. Roast the ham for 20 minutes at 450°F, then turn the oven down to 325°F. Cook for an additional 3½hours, until the internal temperature in the thickest part of the ham is 150°F and the skin is a burnished mahogany color. The skin will crisp to tasty cracklings.

  6. Transfer the ham to a large platter, cover with aluminum foil, and let rest for 20 minutes so the juices will redistribute.

  7. To carve, remove the skin and cut into strips for cracklings. Carve the ham into thin slices and serve.

  DUNBAR MACARONI Dunbar Macaroni belongs to the town and history of Newberry, South Carolina. This is Julia Randel’s own personal recipe that she inherited from her mother, Mrs. Smith. I have seen several recipes that add ground beef or pork, but Julia insists that Dunbar Macaroni was meatless in its original, purest of forms. • SERVES 8 TO 10

  1½ cups elbow macaroni

  4 onions, chopped

  Two 16-ounce cans whole tomatoes, preferably San Marzano, mashed, without their juice

  ¾ pound sharp cheddar cheese, grated

  4 tablespoons (½ stick) butter

  Salt and freshly ground black pepper

  1. Preheat the oven to 350°F.

  2. Cook the macaroni. Drain and set aside.

  3. Cook the onions in 3 cups boiling water for 5 minutes. Drain. Add the tomatoes and cook over low heat for 10 minutes, until liquid has evaporated. Add the cooked macaroni, cheese, butter, salt and pepper. Mix together and pour into a large greased casserole dish.

  4. Bake for 30 minutes, or until lightly browned. Serve hot.

  COUNTRY HAM WITH BOURBON GLAZE

  Now that I am older, I have eaten far too many slices of good country ham on biscuits in my lifetime at funerals too numerous to count. But this is the best recipe I know for anyone nervous around hams. Down here, when Southerners die, the pigs grow nervous.

  • SERVES A CROWD (AT LEAST 12 TO 14) WITH LEFTOVERS

  One 12- to 14-pound bone-in cured ham

  ½ cup apple juice

  1 teaspoon ground cloves

  FOR THE GLAZE

  ½ cup best-quality maple syrup

  ¼ cup bourbon

  ½ cup plus ¼ cup apple juice

  1. Unwrap the ham and let it come to room temperature, at least 2 hours. This helps the ham absorb the liquid used in cooking, making the meat more flavorful.

  2. Preheat the oven to 325°F.

  3. Pull away most of the rind (in many cases, this has already been done) of the ham and trim the excess fat to an even ¼ or ½inch. Using a sharp knife, score the fat lightly in diagonal lines to create a diamond pattern. Put the prepared ham, fat side up, in a sturdy, shallow baking pan and place in the oven. Mix the apple juice and ground cloves with 1 cup water and pour into the pan. Bake for 1½hours.

  4. To make the glaze: In a medium bowl, combine the maple syrup, bourbon, and ¼ cup apple juice.

  5. Without removing the pan from the oven (just pull out the rack, provided it is sturdy enough), pour the glaze over the top of the ham. Add the remaining ½ cup apple juice to the pan and continue cooking for another 45 minutes, basting frequently. (You are looking for about 140°F on an instant-read meat thermometer.) Remove the pan from the oven and allow the ham to cool on a rack before carving and serving.

  BISCUITS • MAKES 12

  2 cups self-rising flour (preferably White Lily)

  ½ teaspoon salt

  3. teaspoons baking powder

  ½ teaspoon baking soda

  5 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into 5 pieces

  1 scant cup buttermilk

  1. Preheat the oven to 450° F. Place rack in middle of oven.

  2. In a large bowl, sift together the flour, salt, baking powder, and baking soda. Add the cold butter pieces to the flour and cut in with two knives (or rub butter into flour with your fingers). When the mixture resembles coarse crumbs the size of peas, pour almost all of the buttermilk in and stir with a wooden spoon just until dough forms one piece. If the dough doesn’t come together, add the remaining buttermilk.

  3. Turn the dough out onto a dry, lightly floured work surface. Using a wooden rolling pin, roll into a rectangle about ½inch thick. Use a biscuit cutter or the open end of a glass to cut rounds of dough.

  4. Place the biscuits on an ungreased cookie sheet. The scraps of dough can be gathered and rolled again one more time. If not baking the biscuits immediately, cover them with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 2 to 3 hours.

  5. Bake for 12 to 14 minutes or until lightly browned on top. Serve hot.

  GRITS CASSEROLE This is the best grits casserole I have ever eaten. Grits provide an empty canvas for all kinds of experimentation. I have cooked the casserole using different kinds of cheese, thrown in a nugget of garlic or a ragout of wild mushrooms. Grits is a food that for gives almost any kind of messing around or tomfoolery by a cook. The best grits I have ever tasted come from Anson Mills out of Columbia, South Carolina. Of course, they are stone-ground. • SERVES 6

  ½ teaspoon coarse or kosher salt

  1 cup slow-cooking stone-ground grits

  ½ pound andouille sausage, chopped

  2½ cups grated sharp cheddar cheese

  3 large eggs, beaten

  ¼ cup heavy cream

  Tabasco sauce

  Coarse or kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

  1. In a large saucepan over high heat, bring 4 cups water to a boil. Add the salt and slowly pour in the grits. Reduce the heat and cook, stirring occasionally, until grits are done, about 40 minutes.

  2. Preheat the oven to 350°F.

  3. In a small saucepan, sauté the sausage until it is slightly crispy, 8 to 10 minutes. Set aside.

  4. Remove grits from the stove and add the cheese, stirring until smooth. Beat in the eggs and cream. Add the sausage and season to taste with Tabasco and salt and pepper.

  5. Pour the grits into a 2-quart soufflé dish and bake until they are set and lightly browned on top, about 40 minutes. Serve hot.

  CURRIED POACHED FRUIT • SERVES 8 TO 12

  1 lemon

  One 2-inch piece ginger, peeled and sliced

  ½ cup granulated sugar

  4 pears, peeled, cored, and thickly sliced

  4 peaches or apples (depending on the season)*

  1 cup pineapple, cut into ½-inch pieces

  1 cup cherries, pitted, or ½ cup dried cherries

  4 apricots, pitted and quartered, or ½ cup dried apricots

  1 cup seedless green grapes

  6 tablespoons unsalted butter

  ½ cup dark brown sugar

  1 tablespoon curry powder

  1. Using a vegetable peeler, cut strips of zest from the lemon (not including the white pith). Squeeze juice for the poaching liquid.

  2. Make the poaching liquid by combining the lemon peel and juice, ginger, 4 cups water, and the sugar in a large saucepan. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer, cov
ered, for 15 minutes.

  3. Place the fruit in poaching liquid. If the liquid does not cover the fruit, gently push the fruit down to submerge it. Return the mixture to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer until the tip of a sharp knife can easily pierce the fruit, 5 to 10 minutes. (Since cooking time varies with the ripeness of the fruit, test frequently.)

  4. Drain the fruit in a colander. Discard poaching liquid.

  5. Preheat the oven to 300°F.

  6. In a large skillet, melt the butter. Stir in the brown sugar and curry powder. Carefully fold in the fruit (so as not to mash it) with a plastic spatula. Transfer to a glass baking dish and bake for 30 minutes. Serve hot.

  GEORGE WASHINGTON’S PUNCH This recipe came to us from the Reverend William Ralston. It was actually the Mount Vernon Christmas punch he got from Martha Washington Jackson, which she had from her aunt, Mrs. George A. Washington (Quennie Woods, who lived at Sewanee). They were both part of the collateral Washington family.

  Father Ralston told us that he feels that the special thing about this punch is the way all those alcohols mix and blend. “It is as smooth as velvet,” he said. “It also does not leave you feeling ‘punchy’ the next day, although you certainly can drink too much of it. It also makes the base for the world’s best old-fashioned—add soda water and an orange slice. Divine! • SERVES A CROWD