This week was going to be the week I finally gave out the recipe for the world’s greatest sweet potato pie. The life-changing pie that I had at my friend Maxie’s church potluck.
Honest, this pie made me, who’s never been a fan of sweet potato pies literally steal a piece to take home for later, then ration each bite so it took me three days to eat.
But I changed my mind (the pie’s coming next week—I promise).
Even though I may come off like I have this exciting, glittering social life, unless it’s the grocery store or library, I honestly don’t get out much. The last time I was at the movies, Greta Garbo was the next big thing.
Well, Friday night, I went with a friend, to a bar.
It was a wild, frenzied night of abandon. We each had one alcoholic beverage and shared two appetizers (I know, I need to calm down from my hard-partying, rock star ways.).
I had something delicious with blueberry and rum to drink. One plate was poutine, a French-Canadian delicacy comprised of French fries covered with cheese curds and brown gravy—it truly is food of the gods, and this place makes the best.
But the second item is the reason you won’t be getting that sweet potato pie recipe this week.
It was okra. I thought that cornmeal coated, fried okra was this poor, misunderstood, and maligned vegetable’s highest calling. But I was wrong. It’s the okra we had Friday night.
Okra is such an ancient vegetable that no one actually knows where it first grew; either Africa or Asia. But it’s no mystery that Africans brought it to America where it’s been growing for so long in the South that Thomas Jefferson wrote about it.
Growing okra is not for the faint of heart. It must be tended by hand, in the heat of the summer. There are spines on it which cause some people to swell and itch. The roots are shallow, so you must take care weeding and harvesting as not to damage it. Okra grows up to six feet so there is much stooping and reaching. And if you wait too long to gather it, it becomes too tough and woody to eat.
And the eating of it brings another stumbling block. There’s no pretending or camouflaging it, okra has an unapologetic green, earthy, vegetal flavor. And then, of course, there’s that texture. In scientific parlance, it’s called mucilage. Most of us know it as slime. That’s why the favored preparation is breading and frying. It all but eliminates the s-word.
It’s almost as if okra’s daring us to love it.
But if you don’t love this okra dish, there’s no hope for you.
Cast Iron Skillet Okra
1pound okra, cleaned and cut in half, lengthwise
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
Kosher salt, to taste
Preheat oven to 180 and place a shallow oven-proof dish inside.
Put ½ tablespoon of oil into cast iron skillet and heat to medium-high. Lay half the okra, cut-side down into skillet in single layer and cook for 4 minutes. When it’s very browned, flip over and cook 2 minutes more, until tender. Then sprinkle with half the salt and toss lightly to make sure each okra’s salted. Place in dish in oven to wait and cook the second half.
Serves 2-4.
So, here’s the thing. This stuff is so good, so easy, that if you don’t try it, you’ve got only yourself to blame. But I won’t be mad, I’ll just be disappointed. Disappointed, over here in the corner, eating this wondrous okra.
Thanks for your time.
Contact debbie at d@bullcity.mom.
Flavor NC production observation, day two:
Here’s something that will give what follows some context; a generous portion of my blood is composed of caffeine. Whether it’s an expensive fancy coffee beverage, a glass of my homemade sun-tea that’s so strong Petey and The Kid call it jet fuel, or chocolate so dark it absorbs surrounding light, my engine runs on that stimulant of the jacked up, jittery gods. Without it, I am a cranky toy, with failing batteries, and a belligerent headache.
The attached building contains two of my favorite summer items—air conditioning and homemade ice cream. Charity loves to use freshly harvested produce for it. We’ve just missed the blueberry sweet corn, but the fresh watermelon ice cream becomes part of the shoot.
After visiting the okra field, we drive to the farm annex where the fields went on as far as we could see. One portion was full of countless plants heavy with different varieties of ripe tomatoes. Purely as research I ate a couple; sweet, and warm from the sun.
Next was summer squash of different shapes and colors. Then were pumpkins, a few for cooking, but most were purely ornamental, including ones that were pale green and covered with what looked like warts. Our host Ashley said they were perfectly suited for jack-o-lanterns and Halloween decoration.
We concluded our visit back at the farm stand. Lisa and Charity did a shot that culminated in biting into a raw piece of okra.
And nope, it didn’t taste like chicken.
Petey had one piece of advice: “Make sure you’re quiet when they’re filming.”
The co-hosts make dishes that are NC authentic, tasty, and original, or twists on old favorites. After making hundreds of recipes, it gets tough to come up with new ones, so they count on reader submissions.
We also have a few cold salads. So, I sent in my high-country potato salad, with broccoli and cheddar cheese.
I wrote back, thanked her, and told her I was (at that time) a food writer at the Herald Sun. She then wrote back, telling me that she organized the specialty food contests at the State Fair. Would I be interested in acting as judge for a few of them?
Thanks for your time.
4 slices cooked bacon, drippings reserved
Variations:
To dice okra, treat it just like an onion. Leave on stem, cut width and length-wise. Then slice it into a dice.
bull city mom 