W hen I looked back over these essays I realized there was one extremely serious omission: not a single complete sentence was devoted to that revered Southern specialtyindeed, staplepimento cheese. Though the Times did not, obviously, charge me with the mission of writing about Southern food, in most of the essays it just sort of turned out that way. But I must have drawn a subconscious line when it came to pimento cheese, otherwise known as Southern pate or Carolina caviar. For all the current popularity of Southern food and Southern cookbooks, it is one of those things like yeast rolls or Marshalls biscuits (if I want them in New York, I hand carry them on the plane), or okra (it does not even rate a mention on New Yorks greenmarket harvest calendar) whose appeal stops at the Mason-Dixon line.
To me this is inexplicable. Pimento cheese is not only incredibly delicious, it stores and travels well, is cheaply made with what for most people are pantry staples, and it is versatile, which also means that it crosses class lines. It can be slathered on white bread for a quick sandwich eaten standing up in the kitchen, for example, but it is seen at least as often at cocktail parties stuffed into celery sticks, as a filling for dainty finger sandwiches, or piled neatly in amound and served with crackers. My friend James Villas has been known to mix pimentos into cheese straw or cheese biscuit dough for pimento cheese straws and biscuits. Try the latter sliced open and buttered with a sliver of ham inside for a melding of two great classicsthough I am firmly opposed to another such melding that results in pimento cheese deviled eggs. Still, there are few other things the stuff does not enhance.
The Varsity in Atlanta is famous for their hotdogs and hamburgers slathered with pimento cheese, and it was once featured on the cover of a Williams-Sonoma catalog atop miniburgers for the Fourth of July. The catalog inclusion marked a rare foray north, but it should be remembered that Chuck Williams, Williams-Sonomas founder, hails from Memphis. In Not Afraid of Flavor, the indispensable cookbook by the chef/owners of Durham, North Carolinas Magnolia Grill, Ben and Karen Barker offer a recipe for Okra Rellenos. In a particularly ingenious pairing, pimento cheese is stuffed into Talk O Texas pickled okra (by far the best brand and yet another thing I am forced to stuff into my luggage when I venture out of the region), lightly breaded with cornmeal, and fried. They are, quite simply, unbelievable.
Clearly, Yankees do not know what they are missing, but pretty much everybody else is clued in. In Texas, pimento cheese is most often made, naturally, with the addition of jalapeo peppers. In Georgia, sandwiches are sold at the concession stand of Augusta National, rather jarringly wrapped in green waxed pepper, and in the Augusta Junior League Cookbook, Second Round: Teatime at the Masters, a recipe for zesty pimento cheese includes the addition of prepared horseradish and mustard. At another Augusta establishment, Veras Caf, it is served with tomato and bacon on marbled rye.
The talented Scott Peacock reports that he not only eats pimento cheese every day, he serves it at his restaurant, Watershed, in Decatur, Georgia, several times a week: on sandwiches at lunch, as the chief ingredient of cheese toast at Sunday brunch, and in a little dish with crisp celery on the side as a dinner appetizer. Peacock, who correctly pronounces the stuff as puhmenna cheese, is a purist, using white cheddar (because it is sharpest), orange cheddar (because pimento cheese really needs to be orange), mayonnaise, and chopped pimentos, along with black pepper and cayenne.
Reynolds Price, the North Carolina novelist and memoirist, calls pimento cheese the peanut butter of his childhood, and his recipe matches that of his fellow Carolinian Villas almost word for word. Both mens essential instructions vary little from those of Peacock, except that each adds a squeeze of fresh lemon juice and Villas adds a dash of Worcestershire, while Price adds a clove of garlic and occasionally favors Tabasco over cayenne. All three are partial to either homemade mayonnaise or Dukes, which is made in Virginia and generally agreed upon as the best jarred mayo there is.
Villass scant addition of lemon and Worcestershire is as much as he will mess with the basic combo. And he is especially vocal when it comes to such popular additions as dill or sweet pickle, onions, pecans, olives, curry powder, or cream cheese. Since the marriage of cheddar and pimentos is blessed from on high and must therefore be treated with respect, never should any other ingredient be allowed to alter or nullify these primary flavors.
I take his point, but I have rarely come across homemade pimento cheese I didnt like (the storebought stuff, says Price, resembles congealed chemicals), and I also love that, like a lot of Southern standbys, ranging from fried chicken to pound cake, each cook can have his or her own way with it. Mississippi DeltabornCraig Claiborne adds both scallions and garlic to his pimento cheese. I always look forward to festive outdoor events because I know that my friend Cameron Seward will be bringing it along, piled in a white porcelain bowl and usually accompanied by bagel crisps. Cameron is from Yazoo City, Mississippi, and by now the dish has become as much her signature as Claibornes.
My friend Keith Meacham has perfected a recipe from her college roommate at Virginia, the secret of which is olive juice, which would likely make Villas scream, but he should try it. She served it on finger sandwiches at the luncheon she gave for my husband and me when we got marriedalong with ham biscuits and fried chicken, to complete my own personal holy trinity. It is so good that the two of us have been known to clean out a whole bowl in less than an hour. But my favorite by farperhaps because it was the pimento cheese of my childhoodwas created by Mary Bell Wright, the McGees cook when we were growing up. She made it a lot and Bossy was smart enough to stand next to her plenty of times when she did. Though Mary Bell, sadly, is no longer with us, her superlative pimento cheese lives on.
Claiborne was the beneficiary of a food tester and cookbook editor, but I have tried to incorporate Keiths and Anne Rosss notes to me in their recipes because they are reflective of the way we all really cook. I usually find that when cooks tinker and taste, great things result from the process.
CRAIG CLAIBORNES PIMENTO CHEESE SPREAD
YIELD: 8 TO 12 SERVINGS
1/2 pound mild yellow cheddar or longhorn cheese
1/2 pound white aged sharp cheddar cheese
1 can (7 ounces) pimentos
1 cup chopped scallions, including green parts
1/2 cup mayonnaise
2 teaspoons lemon juice
1 teaspoon finely minced garlic
2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
6 drops Tabasco sauce
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Use a meat grinder, if possible, to grate the cheese, using the cutter with large holes. Otherwise, use the coarse side of a cheese grater.
Put the grated cheese in a mixing bowl and add half the juice from the canned pimentos. Dice the drained pimentos and add them along with the scallions.
Combine the mayonnaise, lemon juice, and garlic and add to the cheese mixture. Add the Worcestershire, Tabasco, and pepper and blend well. Serve at room temperature as a spread for crisp crackers and raw vegetables or use as a sandwich spread.