Southern Sunshine

Cross the Mason-Dixon line, and you’re treading on spiritual soil. That deep, hollow sound you hear? The South’s heartbeat, a staccato Bible thump. The fervor pervades through everything—there’s even a holy trinity of Southern cooking: fried, grits, and gravy. (Yes, “fried” is a noun in these parts.) They don’t call it soul food for nothing.

Nathan’s from the pocket-size state of Rhode Island, and he’s probably only survived in Alabama this long because he likes loves grits. At first, he’d only eat them in the secrecy of our home, stirring in fat pats of salted butter and fistfuls of cheese. Now, he’s a bit evangelical, presenting the coarse ground corn to his parents during our visits with the zeal of Moses descending from Mt. Sinai, commandments in tow.

OK, I may be exaggerating just a little. But ye of little faith who forsake grits, prepare to be converted. These are wrapped in a crunchy crust and pan-fried, the centers creamy and melty-smooth. Top that with a fried egg and mushroom gravy, and you have a little bit of heaven on a plate. Go ahead, try it … and get ready to spread the good news.

brunch week: baked eggs

And now for the grand finale: Baked Eggs.

I know what you’re thinking … you already have a favorite way to cook eggs. Me, I like mine scrambled. Nathan taught me to add a splash of water to the bowl (a thimble-size baptism), whip them with a fork until the buttercup-colored surface looks a little foamy, cook in a hot, buttered pan, and turn off the heat when they’re about 95% set (the hot pan continues to cook them as you season with salt and pepper and slide them on the plate). You end up with billowy perfection.

Nathan’s a sunny-side up man, and I think he likes the challenge of getting crispy, buttery edges and a ticking–time bomb center of molten yolk. I understand: I often poach an egg in the morning and place it on top of a toasted whole-wheat English muffin with Gouda. Smashing the top half down over the bubble of yellow goo and watching it burst free gives me a sense of victory and glee … it’s a little like being the kid at the party who smashes open the piñata.