pecans

“I was Debbie Ross…”

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debbie eighties

Believe it or not, this was considered fashionable, and sexy in the eighties…and all of that hair is mine.

Originally published in the Herald Sun 11/28/2012

In our minds, I and my best friends Rhiannon and Bo, ran the high school and owned the whole of Elizabeth City when we were seniors.

We all had cars and boyfriends (my car was a 1971 Dodge Dart Swinger named Lancelot, and my boyfriend was a stone cold fox named Petey), at 18 we could legally buy beer, we had jobs, so we had a little jingle in our jeans, and we had enough (ati)‘tude to light up Time’s Square.

And it all seems like yesterday.

But yesterday was actually my thirtieth-class reunion. Petey and I got back home a few hours ago.  It was all kinds of fun.

Friday night we donned NHS reunion t-shirts and went to see Northeastern play football.  We stomped First Flight High from Kill Devil Hills 47-7.

Which is kind of amazing, because I’m not sure the Eagles won one game the entire time I was a student there.

Saturday we had an old-fashioned pig pickin’ wonderfully prepared by our uber-talented ‘cue cook and classmate, Frank Lilly Jr.

Eastern NC BBQ is different from other food. It’s something that is only made well by a very few. It’s not a recipe or a ‘dish’.  It is pork slowly basted in mystery, and the past.  Luckily for the class of ‘82, Frank is one of the anointed ones.

Barbecue is never to be attempted by dilettantes and amateurs.

I got crazy sunburned.  Petey, wise man that he is, wore a hat and got into the shade occasionally.   He has a healthy glow–I look like I was staked out in the desert.

Saturday night was the dinner-dance.

There was a catered dinner, a DJ, and a photographer.  Everybody was all dressed up and looking swell.  It was prom for the Spanxx and bald spot set.

Nobody wanted it to end.

When traveling, we don’t like imposing on friends and family.  The visit is happier when all parties can retreat to privacy.

But I don’t like to stay in chain motels.  They all look alike, and usually smell funny.

And Petey doesn’t like Bed and Breakfasts.  He’s very quiet and nest-y, and it makes him feel uncomfortably like a house guest in a stranger’s home.

My conundrum was that is the bulk of the options in town.

The last time I visited E City, Bo showed me where they held the cast party for her local theater production.

It was a beautiful brick Georgian house on Main St, just a short walk from downtown; the Culpepper Inn (609 W Main St, E City).  In addition to hosting parties, it was also a B&B.

When it came time to make a decision about where to stay, I thought about the inn, but I didn’t think Petey would be up for it.  Just in case, I pulled up the website.

The Culpepper Inn. A very elegant home away from home.

Yes, it was a dreaded B&B, but with a neat twist.  They had the most adorable suite upstairs in the carriage house.  It was a separate building, with outside access, and total privacy.  The flat also contains a shower so big you could play half-court b-ball in it.  That’s my idea of nirvana (the shower, not the b-ball).

It’s a charmingly decorated studio apartment with the amenities of a stately, well-appointed residence.  And it comes with a three-course breakfast.

I made reservations.

Holly Koerber, and her lovely daughter Melanie were our hosts, and by the time we left, friends.

The best meal we ate all weekend was at their table, this morning.

Holly’s philosophy is astonishingly Durham-like.  The inn is run in a very environmentally responsible manner.

But it’s her cooking that truly resembles the Bull City.

As much as possible, the food is organic and locally sourced.  I ate some fantastic bacon that they get from a farm in Windsor (a teeny tiny town about 50 miles from E City).  The pumpkin came from a nearby field.  Local honey.  Everything was fresh, and simply, honestly prepared so that the ingredients shined.  Outside our own carriage house door was growing a healthy gaggle of heavenly smelling tomato plants, heavy with luminous jade orbs.

This morning, we had scrambled eggs, the aforementioned yummy bacon, baked cheesy grits, and a pumpkin French toast casserole, along with vibrant fresh fruit.

I thought about that bounty on the 3 ½ hour ride to Durham.  And also about the beauty of that historic home and all of our experiences in town this weekend; how they were truly an illustration of the very best things about Elizabeth City.

As soon as we got back, I called Holly and asked for a recipe.  I was hoping I could beg her for one, but almost before I finished asking, she kindly offered both recipes, the grits and the casserole.

Here they are, in her own words:

Cheese Grits:

Cook ½ cup yellow grits in 2 cups of boiling water with ½ tsp. of salt & ground pepper on low for 5-6 minutes.  Add ¼ cup real butter, 1 cup shredded cheese (any kind you prefer, I like smoked Gouda), and finally, 1 beaten egg.  Put in individual baking dishes and bake at 325 degrees for 25 minutes.  Brush top with more butter and serve.

Pumpkin Bread Breakfast Casserole

5 slices of any bread, cubed. (Inexpensive white bread puffs the nicest!)

1 cup pumpkin puree (canned or fresh)

1/3 cup sugar

1 tsp. pumpkin pie spice

1/2 tsp. cinnamon

1 tsp. vanilla

Pinch salt

3 eggs, beaten

½ cup milk

3oz evap. milk

½ cup chopped pecans

Grease 8X8 casserole. Add cubed bread.  Blend pumpkin, spices, vanilla, salt, eggs, both milks and pour over bread. Top with pecans. Cover with plastic and refrigerate overnight.

Bake uncovered at 350 degrees about 45 minutes until a toothpick in the center comes out clean.  You may serve this with vanilla yogurt on the side.

It was kind of disconcerting seeing all my old classmates this weekend.  In my head they were a bunch of eighteen-year-old kids getting ready to take on the world.  But the folks that showed up looked like the parents of those kids.

Until I looked into their eyes.  And then I recognized those nutty guys from NHS class of ’82 (Of course, Rhi, Bo, and I all still look like teenagers).

Go Eagles!

*Coming soon:  One of my most beloved friends from NHS, Paxton, lives here in Durham.  It was revealed this weekend that the heathen doesn’t like Mexican food.  His partner Alex and I are taking him to Chubby’s for a conversion attempt.

I will spill on our adventures in a future column.

Thanks for your time.

Tastes like chicken

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I’ve always felt that there are two kinds of people who frequent tea parties (not counting little kids and their guests drinking imaginary tea out of thimbles).
First, genteel ladies and gentlemen who like to get dressed up, and be around other fancy types. I don’t know a whole lot of those people; I mainly hobnob with the sweat suit set.
Next are folks who are just nuts about tea; the history and lore, the various types and flavors. My tea appreciation begins and ends with giant Luzianne bags for pitchers of sun tea. Somehow, I produced The Kid, who is a genuine, over-the-moon tea fanatic. In my child’s pantry are two full shelves dedicated to all things tea.
Last week I discovered a third variety of tea party enthusiast, and also discovered I am one of them.
It’s that enlightened subset who shows up at tea parties for the grub.
I was invited to the Washington Duke Inn (3001 Cameron Blvd.) for tea. Constance Lue, the founder of the Old North State Tea Society, was our guide through the history and etiquette of the phenomena that is afternoon tea.
Here are a few tea facts I’ll bet you didn’t know:
Tea was responsible for much of the suffragette movement. Tea houses were the first respectable venues where a woman could go unaccompanied. High tea, contrary to popular belief, is not an extra-fancy tea, but is a working man’s tea, with a full supper. And my favorite tidbit; one of the welcome benefits of an at-home ladies-only tea, was the opportunity to remove one’s corset, and actually take a nice, deep breath for the first time all day.
At the hotel, in addition to an offering of various teas, we were presented with a three-tiered stand upon which was heaped both sweet and savory treats. There were finger sandwiches, tiny quiche and deviled eggs. On the sugar-coated end of the spectrum were brownies, truffles, chocolate-dipped strawberries and fruit tarts.
In the middle tier, next to the quiche, was a tart filled with chicken salad. Petey is a chicken salad man, I’m not really a connoisseur. But since I’d recently made a batch with a giant roasted Costco chicken, I was eager to sample their version.

Culture and civility abound at the afternoon tea at the Washington Duke Inn, in Durham, NC, held daily. And the food's pretty darn good, too.

Culture and civility abound at afternoon tea at the Washington Duke Inn, in Durham, NC, held daily. And the food’s pretty darn good, too.

Chef Jason Cunningham kindly offered the recipe off the top of his head, which I hurriedly transcribed. So the amounts may be off a bit, but the beauty of chicken salad is its flexible and forgiving nature.

Chef Jason’s WaDuke chicken salad

3 chicken breasts, poached in chicken stock spiked with orange juice, chopped
1 teaspoon fresh rosemary, minced
1 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley
½ small red onion, diced
½ bell pepper, diced
Duke’s mayonnaise, to taste
1/2 cup seedless grapes, sliced in half
1/3 cup toasted pecan pieces
Salt & pepper

Toss first 5 ingredients with enough mayo to moisten. Fold in grapes. Season, and taste for seasoning level. Sprinkle top with pecan pieces, so the nut intolerant can remove if needed.

I thought for fun, I’d give you my newest chicken salad recipe, to compare.
My original salad had toasted pecans. But I decided since the WaDuke salad has pecans, I’d switch to pistachios, as a nod to them. The Fairview at the Washington Duke consistently does amazing things with pistachios.

Debbie’s WaDuke-kissed chicken salad

Dressing:
3/4 cup Hellmann’s mayonnaise
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon lemon juice
2 tablespoons garlic oil (slowly poach 2 cloves garlic in 2 tablespoons olive oil until golden, then strain )
Salt and pepper to taste

Whisk ingredients together.

Salad:

2 1/2 cups shredded chicken from supermarket roast
1 ½ tablespoons parsley, chopped
1 shallot, diced
1 ripe Bartlett pear, peeled, cleaned, cut into ¼ inch cubes, and tossed with 1 ½ teaspoons vinegar
½ cup chopped pistachios

Mix together with desired amount of dressing. Taste for seasoning. Refrigerate 30 minutes before serving.

You can have chicken salad on dainty, crust-less bread with a cup of tea.
Or, you can eschew the gloves and hat, throw on a sweat suit, load up some Wonder bread, and serve with Funyuns and a bottle of Yoo-hoo.
But regardless of which style you choose, don’t stick out your pinky. That’s actually rather tacky.
Thanks for your time.