VittlesVamp

Cake Curiousity

I'm in four weddings this year.

Thankfully, one is over and done, and as with that event, I'm an "un-bridesmaid" in the other three. I couldn't be more delighted with my "un" status. No pink or sea-foam taffeta dresses to buy!

But, of course, I still get to hear about the myriad of details it takes to pull together a big wedding these days. It sounds like a great deal of work - one I'm more than happy to take a pass on someday, and invest in a small, low-key celebration and whirlwind honeymoon instead.

However, as a foodie, I must admit that the idea of selecting a wedding cake does intrigue. My friend Celeste was adamant that she'd have a traditional Southern multi-layered cake at her nuptials. And, sure enough, I was wielding her family heirloom cake-cutter into not one - but three - 10-layer cakes with chocolate frosting on her "big day."

I've since tried to find some historical reference on the Internet to this multi-layered Dixie treat and the closest I've come is on a site about North Carolina folklore and culture :

When Mountain Folk got married everyone in the community baked a layer of cake and covered the top with applesauce. Then they would bring the layer of cake to the wedding. The layers would go into a stack of cake hence the layered wedding cake. A couples popularity was measured on how high their wedding cake was.

Quite a method of measuring your self-esteem as a couple. I guess getting oodles of cash, the Kitchen-Aid Artisan Standing Mixer, Pratesi sheets and a complete set of Lenox dinnerware as wedding gifts is today's Northern equivalent of ranking your community status as a twosome.

I'll be curious to see what kind of cakes my other three friends come up with for their walks down the aisle. Now, if they ask me, (and two already have), I would say they investigate options from both Margaret Palca Bakes and Soutine Bakery.

Margaret Palca Bakes is a small storefront and cafe in Carroll Gardens on the "other side" of the BQE. She has been supplying Dean & Deluca with cakes for ages and she charges prices well-below D&D if you purchase directly from her. I once got a four-layer b-day cake from her shop that was so moist and chocolatey that people had a hard time believing that it came from an unknown Brooklyn bakery.

And, as for Soutine, it is a charming small bakery on the Upper West Side. I used to work right nearby and I would often pass by the shop just to smell the heavenly aroma drifting out the door. Needless to say, their cakes are divine.

Of course, my three pals might bypass the bakery option all-together and bake their own - as one nervy bride reported in The Washington Post:

The entire time I worried about how the cake was going to look, I never once worried about how it was going to taste. Instead, I dreamed in techni-food color. Gold leaf or pearl dust? What kinds of fruits? I had fallen through the rabbit hole and landed in a Wonderland of sugar paste, marzipan and royal icing.

As I made tiny pearls on parchment paper long into the night, the rhythm of piping the icing grew, hypnotized me, music to a cobra. Was it possible I might, after all, get good enough to pipe swags onto the cake's sides?

Midway through my experiments, our two cats, Thelma and Louise, discovered they loved Royal Icing (a combination of "Just Whites" powdered egg whites, confectioners' sugar and water). Thelma learned that when she heard the sound of the Kitchen-Aid whipping Royal Icing, it was time to jump on the table, lick the icing and walk around in it. After she'd ruined the umpteenth perfect string of pearls, I piped a bit of icing on her so she could lick it off and leave me alone. Once and for all, I decided to forget about the swags.

The next step was to practice covering the cake in rolled fondant, a pliable sugar paste. Fondant is one of the most beautiful elements of cake decoration. Once the cake is made, frosted and assembled, the whole exterior is then covered by the smooth fondant. It drapes like fabric and looks like edible marble. Fondant is a perfect canvas. But it has drawbacks: Some fondants can't be refrigerated, because the humidity will make them slimy. And a fondant surface can also dry out and tear.

But, here's the real kicker:

While lots of brides get their nails done the day before their nuptials, I was getting fondant under mine.

Yeah - I think that'll be a big "no" for my pals. In fact, I imagine that after reading this item, they'll each be ordering up their wedding cakes from a professional baker right quick, with a call to the nail salon immediately to follow.

Meat Me At The Museum

You can't make this stuff up.

Today's Wall Street Journal profiles the Spam Museum. Yes, you read correctly. The Spam Museum.

According to the WSJ's Michael Judge, who grew up about an hour's drive from Austin, Minnesota's Spam Boulevard, where the 16,500 square-foot facility is situated:

In this quiet, Southern Minnesota town, on the corner of Main Street and Spam Boulevard, stands "16,500 Feet of Spam Nirvana" handsomely housed in a multistory brick building bearing the patented blue and yellow "Spam" logo. One look at the tourists lining up to take photos with a life-size bronze statue of a farmer taking his hogs to market and you know you're in the right place.

Opened in September 2001 on the site of an old Kmart, the Spam Museum has become something of a kitsch icon throughout the Midwest. The folks at the museum have taken out billboards up and down I-90 with quirky messages like: "The Spam Museum: Believe the Hype" and "Find Out What's Inside."

And, if you decide to make the roadtrip, there is loads of fun in store. Your "Spambassador" (I'm not kidding) will show you the wonders of the Wall of Spam comprised of 3500 cans of the meat product - enough to feed a single human (albiet with no tastebuds) for 10 years. You'll also get to see a state-of-the-art 42-seat theater, take part in a high-tech interactive Spam Exam, and look up to behold an impressive conveyor belt that keeps some 800 cans of Spam forever circling overhead.

Sounds grand, doesn't it? Well, that's not all:

World War II is when Spam really became a household name. Canned luncheon meat was part of most every GI's rations. While Hormel was just one of dozens of providers, soldiers called it all "Spam" and ate so much of it (by the end of the war some 150 million pounds from Hormel alone) they grew to hate it. As President Dwight D. Eisenhower wrote to a retired Hormel president many years later, "I ate my share of Spam along with millions of other soldiers. I'll even confess to a few unkind remarks about it -- uttered during the strain of battle you understand. But as former Commander in Chief, I believe I can still officially forgive you your only sin: sending so much of it."

President Eisenhower's letter is just one of the gems you'll find at the museum. There's also a Spam production line where you and the kids can can your own can of Spam (alas, not the real stuff), as well as a fully operational KSPAM radio studio that features old Spam jingles. But my personal favorite is the video exhibit featuring Monty Python's 1970 "Green Midget Cafe," where Mr. Bun is left with no option but a plate of "Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam." Cybernerds and people who actually study this stuff say this skit is the origin of the Internet term "to spam" -- i.e., to send a seemingly endless stream of unsolicited, unwanted e-mail. Go figure.

I have a strange feeling that Dr. Biggles is packing his family into the car right now, Mapquest directions to Minnesota in hand, to make his way to Spam Boulevard...

Dr. Biggles' Wish is My Command

Now, if any of you avidly reads the comments on my Web site, you're sure to have seen the name "Dr. Biggles" pop up on several occassions - if not all. Perhaps many of you think us old friends - but the truth is that Dr. Biggles and I have never met. We simply have an online relationship, begun at the advent of this site.

Nonetheless, knowing and admiring Dr. Biggles own "flogger" endeavors, I am pleased as punch (where did that phrase come from?) to claim him as my number #1 fan. So, when he posted the following comment to my item about produce keeping you young:

I would think sausage would keep you young and vibrant. But that's just me ...

I felt it my obligation to respond with a little research of my own. And, as serendipity would have it, I just received an invite to an event that might shed some light on the issue:

Saturday, May 1, 2004 - 3 pm
Loreley Restaurant & Biergarten Presents:

First International Sausage Festival
& All Day Mayday Party

Great variety of sausages from our German Butcher on sample platters.

All Day Event - Free Admission

Biergarten Seating is First Come First Serve

Free German Schnaps & Shots
(to help digestion)

Live German Music with the Will Holshauser Trio starting at 3 pm

Great German Food

Bratwurst with Bread - $4
Small Sausage Taster Platter - $9
Large Sausage Taster Platter - $ 15
Super Deluxe Sausage Taster Platter - $25

Beer Special: Spaten Maibock at $5/Half Liter, $10/Liter

Deutsche Wurst. Alles Andere Ist K

Ponce de Leon in the Produce Aisle

I used to work in the entertainment business - on a soap opera to be exact. And nowhere is the quest for beauty and youth more of a priority than among those actors and actresses that are regularly inspected by the camera's unfriendly eye. The magic of lighting and makeup can only do so much.

Eventually, most of the divas (and aging hunks) turned to the help of a doctor's scalpel or shots of botox.

I'm a bit put-off by the idea myself. And, yet, I'm not unaffected by all those ads for Oil of Olay and shows like "Extreme Makeover." Heck, I'm vain too.

And, so, it was a wonderful relief to read an article in The Chicago Tribune which claims that I can age well by simply eating plenty of fruits and vegetables:

The fountain of youth didn't lie in a hot, alligator-filled lagoon just off the coast of northern Florida. It lies instead in food.

Or so say a growing number of anti-aging food advocates, including doctors, nutritionists and cooks. They tout the benefits of fruits like blueberries, pineapple, cherries, oranges and tomatoes as ambrosia not only of the gods but also of the young...Senior citizens and soon-to-be-seniors should be encouraged by medical advances and discoveries of plant chemicals called phytochemicals that appear to detoxify cells, blunting some of the effects of aging.

Even if a diet full of phytochemical-rich fruits and vegetables and other foods associated with long-term health doesn't necessarily guarantee a long life, it can be a delicious way to ward off some of the insults of time.

"It encompasses all of the different food groups," said chef and dietitian Cheryl Forberg, author of "Stop the Clock! Cooking," an anti-aging cookbook. "This isn't just for Boomers; there's something here for everybody."

So, next time you want to stop by the supermarket I suggest you bring your camera and autograph book. It's quite possible that you'll run into a youth-hungry celebrity in the produce aisle.

California Dreamin'

Well, I've returned to NYC, but I'm still on Pacific Time. Sure I'll be back on track tomorrow, but until then I'm kinda enjoying the off-kilter feeling. Have no fear though, I'm not so out-of-whack that I can't share a few San Francisco highlights.

First off, I must raise a glass of California Cabernet in toast to the hotel where I stayed: The Renaissance Stanford Court Hotel on Nob Hill (pictured above).

Now, lest you think me a "princess," booking a swank hotel room during a business trip, I'll let you know that the hotel was far and away less expensive than several of the usual suspects that had been recommended, including the Marriott and Hyatt Regency. And so, who was I to complain about a large room with elegant Chinois decor, three large, sun-filled windows, a heated towel rack, complimentary morning coffee/tea/hot chocolate, an ample supply of fluffy, white towels, turn-down service and a mint on my pillow?

I don't think I ever want to go to bed again without a mint on my pillow.

To top it off, the hotel's location put the California Street trolley right in front of its main door, which conveniently took me to my client's office each morning with a charming clackety-clack and magnificent vistas of the city.

Must say that this morning's NYC subway ride to work - with the requisite smell of the sweaty masses and urine stench - didn't really cut it in comparison.

Now, I do not want you to worry that this is going to become an exercise in New York-bashing. I adore New York. But, I must admit that I wasn't immune to the Bay Area's charms during my stay.

That said, let's get to the good stuff: food and drink.

My first full night, my colleague Paul invited me out for a wee wine bar crawl to discuss business among other matters. A true oenephile, he was a bit embarrassed by his first pick for the evening, a new Russian Hill spot called Bacchus. Its wine selection by the glass was miniscule and the space was teeny, tiny. In addition, the bar's couches were ridiculously low to the ground, making me wonder if they were hoping for a midget clientele. One drink and we quickly determined that the place was merely a "holding area" for the sushi restaurant next door and headed out the door.

Our next stop needed to include food, so I suggested a restaurant/wine bar I had heard about called 1550 Hyde Cafe & Wine Bar (pictured above).

After sitting at their welcoming bar, downing an antipasto platter of San Daniele prosciutto, fiore sardo, grilled asparagus and olives with a glass of Champagne (for him) and Russian River Valley Chardonnay (for me), we knew we had a winner. Splitting a fragrant entree of Oregon line-caught king salmon with saffron rice, ruccola and lemon-thyme butter only solidified our belief that we'd made the right choice for dinner.

Once the plate was whisked away, we were tempted to share a dessert, but Paul insisted that we were much better off moving on to our next stop for what he promised would be the ideal California wine bar. Instead of the typical sweet, he suggested that we order a plate of gourmet cheese to compliment our vino. He couldn't think of a dessert that could top that.

He was right.

Hayes & Vine was a find.

The wine bar (pictured above) prides itself on being just that - a wine bar. There's no kitchen. The menu offers a few gloriously construed cheese platters, spreads and an offering of mouth-puckering boquerones. The owner, Mark, is a joyful character who is as romantic about his wine selection as he was with his music.

We ended up not only closing the place at midnight, but being invited to sip some more of Mark's gorgeous wines after-hours. In deference to my urge to dance, Mark let me put on a bit of Stevie Ray Vaughn, so I could shake, rattle and roll in between glasses of select vintages from boutique vineyards located in Napa, Sonomo, Carneros and more. I must admit it was difficult to restrain myself with all of those hard-to-come-by bottles at the ready, but at 2:30am I finally pulled myself away, into a cab and back to the hotel.

After all - it was a work night.

The next night, I had a lovely reunion with my friend Leslie over a not so lovely dinner at Slanted Door. I don't know what all the fuss has been about. The food took forever to get to the table and distinct flavors were nowhere to be had. The view from the restaurant's Ferry Market Building location, however: stunning.

On my last night in the Bay Area, I made my way down Telegraph Hill, navigating a winding stairway through landscaped front yards overflowing with colorful buds. Leaving the scent of heady Night-Blooming Jasmine behind, I decided to heed two friends' advice and headed directly to the Basque restaurant Piperade.

Boy, was I glad I heeded. Frankly, I can't wait to "heed" again the next time I'm in San Francisco.

A warm, rustic room (pictured above), the restaurant's central focus is an oversized rough-hewn wood table in the middle of the room, with a hefty chandelier above, crafted out of empty wine bottles. I bypassed the tables and sat at the bar.

Greeted by a blue-eyed French bartender with a glint in his eye and a bit of the devil in his smile, I knew I was in the right place. After a day of traipsing around the city the only decision I could make was that I wanted an appetizer and glass of white wine. I left the rest to him. His selections were divine. I savored every morsel of the Taloa with spring garlic, creme fraiche and subtlely smoked salmon. The Basque white he chose was crisp and complimented it perfectly.

I was almost done, when I noticed that he offered a small plate of foie gras on toast point to some regulars down the bar. My mouth hung open in shock when they turned it down. Turned it down?!?! This is foie gras, people! What could they be thinking?

Lucky for me, my bartender caught my look and quickly asked me if I'd mind taking the plate off his hands. Mind? You've got to be kidding!

It was outstanding. A rich, generous slice of duck liver topped with a few brackish crystals of fleur de sel. Pure heaven on a cracker.

I took a moment - a breath - and then realized that I couldn't just stop at that. So, considering how well the bartender did with my first course, I had to insist that he select a dessert as well.

He did me proud.

The Turron mousse cake with roasted almonds was just sweet enough with an edge of nougat flavor and crunchy, buttery nuts atop. My glass of Cava served it well.

And, now that I'm back home, I must admit that I can't get Piperade off my mind. Maybe it's time that I start experimenting with Basque cookery in my kitchen. For me, anyway, it'll be like bringing little bit of San Francisco back to Kings County, bridging the gap between the Golden Gate and Brooklyn Bridges so to speak. And, with Piperade Chef Gerald Hirigoyen's cookbook only costing $25.50 on Amazon, happily, I can afford the toll.

Culinary Adventures at the SF Safeway

If I had more time, I'd write about my gourmet gallivanting last night. But, since I'm pressed for time, I'll just let you all know that I'm actually consuming some fairly decent sushi from a humongous Safeway near my client's office. One of the writers here, Owen, insisted that they would make the sushi fresh before my eyes - and sure enough they did.

Not so, unfortunately for my Hijiki Salad. It was rock-solid frozen.

Then again, perhaps its icy state is really a culinary statement. Seaweed Popsicles - the next big thing. You heard it here first.

Vin Is In

And, once again, I have had another foodie invite land in my in-box. This time around it's for a Loire Valley Wine Tasting, benefiting Share Our Strength:

Boston
May 4th
5:00 to 7:00 PM
Boston University,
Fuller Showroom
808 Commonwealth Avenue
(Discount parking available)

New York City
May 6th
5:00 to 7:00 PM
Metropolitan Pavilion
125 West 18th Street

Washington, DC
May 10th
5:00 to 7:00 PM
Washington Plaza Hotel, Federal Hall
10 Thomas Circle, NW
(Parking available)

The Loire Valley is France's third largest AOC wine region, second largest region for sparkling wine and most popular region for wine in restaurants. The Loire produces a range of wines -- red, white, ros

Chocolates, Poetry & Privacy

Well, it looks like my ripping on the "Pinot & Pork" event hasn't stopped other folks from inviting me to future foodie functions. The latest to land in my in-box:

You are cordially invited to the

//// 1st Annual Kundiman Benefit Gala \\\\

Friday, April 23, 2004
8 pm

The Yale/Virginia Club of New York
50 Vanderbilt Ave (44th Street)
New York, NY 10017

Join us for an evening of decadent chocolate tasting, free flowing wine, and cutting-edge poetry, hosted by HBO Def Poetry Jam sensation, Regie Cabico.

Special raffle prizes sponsored by Nobu Restaurant & fashion designer Vivienne Tam.

All proceeds from the Gala will benefit the very first National Asian American Poets' Mentorship Retreat to be held at The University of Virginia. Join us for an elegant evening of art and activism.

Celebrated readers include:
Meena Alexander
Mei-mei Berssenbrugge
Regie Cabico
Luis H. Francia
Timothy Liu
Patrick Rosal
Vijay Seshadri

$35 Advance Tickets available on http://www.kundiman.org
$50 At the Door

*Cocktail Attire*

Chocolate Tasting Reception by XOX Truffles
Open Wine Bar by Martha Clara Vineyards

The Kundiman Benefit Gala is co-sponsored by the University of Virginia Alumni Association, Martha Clara Vineyards, XOX Truffles, Nobu Restaurant & Vivienne Tam.

Poetry and chocolate - a potent combination indeed. Add an open wine bar and the stale bookish aroma of academia, and you've got a bubbling cauldron of romance.

Dunno if I want to be in a public place when that pot boils over. Know what I mean? Better to leave the chocolate and poetry to the confines of home.

Must admit that I'm not familiar with XOX Truffles, but I will say that I have experienced chocolate worthy of a pleasurable moan or two: specifically Jacques Torres' Alize Hearts of Passion, little heart-shaped chocolates, containing a creamy milk chocolate ganache center accented with a splash of Alize and real passion fruit (pictured above, among some of Torres' other goodies).

And, when it comes to romantic poetry, I'm a fan of the Israeli poet Yehuda Amichai. If you aren't familiar with his writing, Amichai's love poems are fiercely intense and completely sensual.

Hmm. Come to think of it, I've never tried eating Hearts of Passion while reading Amichai's poetry. Hopefully, some scholarly gentlemen will bring over a bottle of Brachetto d'Aqui to make the picture complete.

Poor Planning at "Pinot & Pork" at The Plaza

The title sort of says it all, but I feel it my foodie obligation to share a few observations from last night's "Pinot & Pork" event, hosted by Kobrand as a benefit for Slow Food.

Let's just start first with the room - WAY too small for the number of attendees. And, goodness knows, a crowded space is just what you're looking for when there are hot plates, heating lamps, an underactive A/C system, glasses of red wine and dishes of hot meat about.

Needless to say, I was sweating like a pig. It might have been theme-appropriate, but awfully uncomfortable.

Just to add to the frustration, it seemed like the party planners hadn't really expected foodies and wine lovers to show. The event started at 7pm and by 8pm several of the wine tables were wiped out, as was a great deal of the food.

And, even if you happened to approach a table that had a few drops of vino to spare and swine at the ready, the Plaza had run out of clean plates and glassware. That situation was remedied within 15 minutes, but still. This was a Slow Food event for goodness sake! Didn't they think that we would plow through tableware at rapid speed?

And, speaking of tableware - where the heck was a table or two to actually sit down while you grazed? None were on hand. Not even a paltry stool.

As a result, we were all forced to pull off yoga moves, standing, while trying to down meat that required fork and knife and balance a glass of wine.

Namaste, you say? I think not. If I wanted a sweaty yoga class, I would've signed up for Bikram.

Southern Hospitality

Well, I've returned from my South Carolina sojourn having survived my own driving (haven't gotten behind the wheel in six years, so this is no small feat), an unplanned trip to Murrell's Inlet, the awesome responsibility of bustling the bride and the even more daunting task of keeping a valuable cake cutter out of the catering crew's clutches.

And, what have I learned from my trip?

1. I'm not a fan of Red-Eye Gravy.

2. Country Ham is to regular Ham as Belly Lox is to Nova Scotia Smoked Salmon.

3. Grits are grand.

I'll elaborate on these Dixie revelations in order, starting with my introduction to Red-Eye Gravy and Country Ham, which occured in one fell swoop. Said "swoop" happened at the North Myrtle Beach branch of Plantation Pancake House, a large, bustling breakfast joint with the good business sense to solely cater to hardcore breakfast fare fans: morning folk and nocturnal diners. The restaurant doesn't even deal with the dinner crowd, closing between 2pm - 10pm daily.

Grabbing a table in the restaurant's packed "Veranda Room" with a parking lot view and two prominent banners from The Optimist's Club, I felt fairly secure in the authenticity of the place. My Southern friend Melissa scanned the menu and concurred. Her husband Dave, a "Blue Devil," who had spent his fair share of time below the Mason-Dixon line also gave the breakfast selection a strong thumbs up, and kvelled about the friendly, down-to-earth waitstaff. But, it was the fact that both Sausage Gravy and Red-Eye Gravy were spotlighted on the menu that really impressed the couple. A eye-opening combo of black coffee and fried ham drippings, Melissa couldn't help but get misty-eyed talking about her Grandma's Red-Eye Gravy.

So, we had no choice. My corn-fed, Nebraska-born pal Kristin and I ordered up a Biscuit with Red-Eye to split as a starter. And, to round out the Southern breakfast experience, I ordered a side of Country Ham with my Eggs and Pancakes special.

Unfortunately, as you may have guessed, I don't get misty-eyed when I talk about the gravy. I was surprised that it didn't taste at all like coffee, but more like salty ham broth. And, ultimately, my love of ham and coffee aside, it just didn't do it for me.

On the other hand, the slab of super salty pork that followed was a real treat. It only bore a slight smokey resemblence to its typical ham sibling and the salt really packed a wallop. Dunno if I would have enjoyed the Country Ham as much without the soft, simple scrambled eggs and buttery, plain pancakes as counterpoints, but I could definitely see the appeal. (Then again, I'm a lady who prefers her Belly Lox to the Nova Scotia variety.)

As for point three: "grits are grand," I learned that lesson well on the first evening I arrived in Myrtle Beach at a landmark dining establishment called the Sea Captain's House (pictured above). Accompanied by the same gregarious crew, we quickly realized that we stumbled on to a true foodie find when we were told that there was a 45 minute wait at 9pm - and, beyond a khaki short-clad group of overweight golfing buddies, those waiting seemed to be real, live locals.

We were delighted - and starving - when our table was ready. The menu was a mix of Calabash deep fried seafood and more exotically inspired fishy fare. They also offered a rudimentary selection of beef and poultry options - but with a name like Sea Captain House, we knew better than to stray to that part of the menu.

Instead, we all stuck to fairly traditional underwater options - and we started with a doozy of a dish: Scallops and Grits. Presented with a small plate of four spicy pan blackened sea scallops served on creamy smoked cheddar cheese grits topped with green scallion, we had no idea what gourmet gratification lay in wait. With one swift move of our forks, we knew.

We lay waste to the dish in a matter of seconds.

Even with that glorious starter under our belts, Terri, our charmingly gracious waitress could tell that our stomachs were rumbling. She set down a basket of gorgeous hush puppies to keep us tided over until the entrees arrived. White corn sweet, and deep fried golden brown, they were fantastic.

The entrees didn't disappoint. Melissa couldn't even finish her enormous helping of Deep Fried Flounder. Kristen was a bit more successful with her broiled version of the fish. Dave made "all gone" with his heaping Seafood Platter, laden with perfectly cooked, deep fried shrimp, scallops, flounder, oysters and deviled crab. I joined Dave in the "all gone" club. My Long Bay Stuffed Flounder was tender and flaky, stuffed with fresh Atlantic Bluefin crabmeat filling. And then, just to make matters worse - or better depending upon your perspective - it was baked and topped with Hollandaise.

Not the kind of thing you should be eating everyday, but as a once in a while treat, this type of rich, sinful, old-fashioned food should be mandatory - if only to remind us of what it was like to eat before diet fads, goat cheese and sushi took hold of the American psyche.

And, so what do I plan to do with my newfound knowledge of Southern cuisine?

Track down the recipe for the Scallops and Grits. And, then spend some time experimenting with grits to see what other gustatory gold I can uncover in them thar grains of corn.