Taylor - Hoppin Johns lowcountry cooking: recipes and ruminations from Charleston & the Carolina coastal plain

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ABOUT THE LOWCOUNTRY

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TOWARD A LOWCOUNTRY KITCHEN

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SNACKS AND STARTERS

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RICE AND GRITS

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FISH

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SHELLFISH

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MEAT

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GAME

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POULTRY AND GAME BIRDS

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VEGETABLES

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BREADS

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DESSERTS

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BEVERAGES

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CONDIMENTS:
PICKLES, RELISHES, PRESERVES,
AND SAUCES

It was in Newport, Rhode Island, where generations of Charlestonians had vacationed, that I stumbled upon Old Receipts from Old St. Johns, a handmade book of photos and recipes from antebellum plantations in Berkeley County, South Carolina. The year was 1984, and I was, at the time, the food editor of a French magazine in New York. Though I had spent most of my life in the Lowcountry, just a few miles from St. Johns, I didnt recognize much of the food so lovingly documented in the old book, which, I suspected, had escaped the widespread flooding of plantations that had followed the construction of a big hydroelectric dam in the late 1930s. Had so many Lowcountry recipes disappeared in just a few decades? The book was unsigned, which made me think that it had been written prior to the Nineteenth Amendment (1920), when the names of Lowcountry ladies did not appear in print except at birth, marriage, and death.

Shortly thereafter, I interviewed Karen Hess, the culinary scholar, on the history of Thanksgiving. I showed her the book, she confirmed that it was from the early twentieth century, and in tandem we began to research the all-but-disappeared grand cooking of the Lowcountry, our interest piqued by the intriguing dishes in Old Receipts. In 1986 I moved home to Charleston to open Hoppin Johns, my culinary bookstore. There was a mere handful of restaurants in town, few of which served any traditional Lowcountry dishes other than pasty versions of she-crab soup. Several self-described soul food houses served fried fish and red rice, but that was about it. There was no farmers market. Shrimpers, fishermen, chefs, and home cooks were not using the fatty, flavorful shrimp heads to make stock. I could not find stone-ground, whole-grain, heirloom corn grits and meal, and not a single Charleston restaurant that I know of was serving Shrimp and Grits.

Where were the rice breads, the sorrel omelets, and the fennel soups that I was finding in old Carolina cookbooks and plantation records? Where was the calves foot jelly I read about in old novels, or the vast stores of claret and port that nearly every Charleston townhouse once boasted?

I set out on a mission to educate both myself and my clients. I found millers growing and grinding the right corn, the right way, and offered freshly ground grits and meal in my shop. I wrote about traditional charcuterie in Charlestons alternative newspaper, Omnibus. I profiled my millers in the New York Times. I began speaking at culinary conferences and museums, extolling the virtues of Lowcountry cooking. My work was featured in academic journals and the popular press. I taught cooking classes, eventually expanding my shop to include a teaching kitchen. Little by little, people heard my call for a return to the fresh, local, and traditional. The New York Times deemed me lococentric. Shrimp and Grits began appearing on restaurant menus, not only in Charleston but across the country. By the time the original edition of this book was released, I had grits buyers in all fifty states. Of that I am most proud.

As I now read through the original edition of Hoppin Johns Lowcountry Cooking, I am saddened by how many of the great cooks in the book have since died. Most of the traditional butcher shops have closed. Its still impossible to find rice bread. But Im thrilled that culinary history, which was a new field in the 1980s, has become a recognized academic discipline. Today we know a lot more about the journey of the tomato, heirloom crops, and African American foodways than we did twenty years ago.

Both Charleston and the Lowcountry have changed dramatically in the last two decades. There are now dozens and dozens of restaurants in the area, some internationally renowned. Chefs are serving not only stone-ground grits with their fresh, local shrimp, but also traditional pilaus, condiments, and fish that were formerly considered trash. Sausage-making has all but become a competitive sport. Wine and gourmet shops abound. Stocks made from heads-on shrimp flavor the regional soups, stews, and rice dishes. Many traditional southern ingredients are now available online, including my grits and cornmeal. To have led the way, or at least helped clear the path, also makes me proud.

The Charleston Farmers Market, which I helped found, is a major tourist attraction, not just a place for locals to find Sieva beans and homemade Chow-Chow. Development has been rampant, however aestherically friendly. There are several new urban villages in the area. Excellent veal, lard, and sorghum are much easier to find these days. Canned stocks have improved immensely. Many more varieties of local fish are now available, including cobia. Rice is being grown again on several farms; the bobolinks are back in full force.

I rue some of the changes. Climate change has seen water moccasins traveling north of the Fall Line. Beavers now come down into the Low-country in search of habitat. I no longer eat shark or tuna unless I am absolutely certain of the species and its provenance: both fish families have threatened members. Local caviar from Atlantic sturgeon is rarely available, so often are the bans on that endangered fish. And several of my old fishing holes and wild oyster beds have become favored anchorages of the hundreds of new boaters.

I, too, have changed. In 1999 I closed my shop and cooking school to concentrate on writing and photography. In 2004 I moved out of state. I have traveled extensively, sampling delicious, farm-raised oysters in England and France and olive oils, as a guest of the International Olive Oil Council, throughout the Mediterranean. Ive enjoyed inventive and exotic cooking in Sicily, Istanbul, and Sri Lanka. In 2007 I began writing a blog.