Southern Plate: Classic Comfort Food That Makes Everyone Feel Like Family

introduction

I’ll be the first one to tell you that I’m no one special, but I come from some awfully good people. In my opinion, some of the best people who ever walked this earth, and yet they were never known outside of their little boroughs until now.

No one would have known how my great-grandmother stayed up all night long on Christmas Eve, using ingredients she’d bartered for and squirreled away all year long so that she could make cakes for her children as their only gift on Christmas morning. No one would have known how a man who married my grandmother when my mother was thirteen years old would come to be known as the most cherished and loving grandfather I could have ever known, taking me under his wing when he was afraid I’d get lost in the birth order shuffle and openly declaring that I was to be his favorite.

No one would have known how my parents used to pretend to be busy in the kitchen while my brother and sister and I ate, waiting until we were done to eat what was left so that they could make sure our bellies were full.

Outside of our family, no one would have ever known these people were here—they didn’t make much of an imprint on the world, I suppose, but they made every difference in the world to me and to all of my children and grandchildren to come.

No one would have ever known this were it not for the good folks who read SouthernPlate.com, who have truly become my extended family.

A new member comes along and everyone scoots down and makes another seat at the table. I’m just the one lucky enough to get to fill the tea glasses and hug your necks as you walk out the door and go back to your lives.

My stories and recipes are a gift from my ancestors, but the ability to have them heard is a gift from you. Thank you for letting me bring them back again.

Gratefully,

summer days and family reunions

nothing is more worthy of celebrating in the South than all of the family coming together as we do in the summer months. When I was a girl, we gathered at my Papa Reed’s farm each summer for the Reed Family Reunion. Ladies would arrive in their Sunday best, toting casserole dishes, cakes, and plate after plate of deviled eggs. Papa Reed would hitch his big red tractor to a huge flatbed trailer and pull it up alongside the house. Ladies would then cover that trailer in tablecloths and bed sheets before setting out the spread.

The entire trailer would be filled to the brim, oftentimes having to rearrange plates just to make room for our bounty. Jugs of sweet tea and lemonade would sit near the end, along with a huge stack of sturdy paper plates. I tried not to be too obvious, but as everyone’s head was bowed for grace, I’d look to see where Mama had set her mandarin orange cake and how close it was to the deviled eggs with red stuff sprinkled on top so that I could make my beeline to the two things I wanted most that day.

Afterward, folks would go back for seconds and thirds, many even fixing plates to take back home with them. Then we’d all sit in the front yard while the more talented among us brought out banjos and fiddles to entertain. Kids took turns swinging in Papa’s rope swing that hung from the old oak tree out front of his workshop and the border collies made their way around, taking turns getting loved on by all the visitors on this special day.

No fancy restaurant could have possibly offered up food as delicious as what we had.

summer recipes

homemade banana pudding

aunt sue’s pound cake

mama’s custard sauce

vanilla wafer cake

aunt looney’s macaroni salad

mandarin orange cake

seven-layer salad

jordan rolls

broccoli salad

baked ham

butterfinger cake

corn casserole

deviled eggs

fried chicken planks

comeback sauce

fried corn

granny’s sheath cake

cheesy hash brown casserole

sour cream hash brown casserole

strawberry pretzel salad

meme’s mashed potatoes

perfect iced tea

lemonade

fruit cocktail cake

sweet-and-sour green beans

broccoli and cauliflower salad

waste-not, want-not french toast

depression bread pudding

alabama white bbq sauce

number 5 bbq sauce

apple julep

texas caviar

vegetable salad

fried potatoes

okra and tomatoes

ms. millie’s best coleslaw

hot dog chili sauce

peanut butter balls

analoyce’s buttermilk congealed salad

dishpan cookies

blackberry cobbler

homemade banana pudding

I’ve always loved homemade banana pudding above just about all other desserts, but it took on a new meaning for me when I started Southern Plate. Mama used to make this and serve it up in her big avocado green mixing bowl. She’d let my sister and me layer the bananas and vanilla wafers when we were younger, giving us a butter knife to cut them with so we couldn’t hurt ourselves, then she’d pour the thick pudding all over the top and let it sit a bit before supper so it had time to soak into all of the wafers. If we let her get it away from us long enough, she’d top it with a perfectly browned meringue. Oh my, it was heavenly.

Banana pudding was the first recipe I posted on my blog. I love to write and I love to cook, so the two came together when I decided to show folks who had never had real banana pudding how to make it. I took photos of every step, sprinkled it with instructions and commentary, posted it, and Southern Plate was born.

The key to the best meringue is to add the sugar while the meringue is still foamy to give it time to dissolve.

pudding

1 box vanilla wafers

5 bananas

½ cup sugar or Splenda

¹/3 cup all-purpose flour

¹/8 teaspoon salt

3 egg yolks (reserve the whites for the meringue)

2 cups milk

½ teaspoon vanilla extract

Place a layer of vanilla wafers in the bottom of a medium bowl. Slice a banana over the top. Repeat two more times with another layer of wafers and the remaining bananas.

In a saucepan (or double boiler; see Note), combine the sugar, flour, salt, egg yolks, and milk. Stir well with a wire whisk and place over medium-low heat. Cook, stirring constantly to prevent scorching, until thickened, about 15 minutes. Remove from the heat and stir in the vanilla. Immediately pour over the wafers and bananas. Let sit for 5 minutes or so to give the wafers time to absorb the pudding.

meringue

3 egg whites

¼ cup sugar

Preheat the oven to 325°F.

Make the meringue: In a large bowl, beat the egg whites with an electric mixer on high speed until foamy. Add the sugar and continue beating on high speed until soft peaks form. Pour onto the top of the pudding and spread to the edges to seal well. Bake for 15 minutes, or until the top is golden. Allow to cool completely before serving (refrigerate if you wish).

Note: Using a double boiler ensures that your custard won’t scorch and is great if you want to be on the safe side. Having said that, I never use a double boiler. I just use a saucepan placed over medium-low heat and keep a close eye on it. I like to walk on the wild side that way.

8 servings

aunt sue’s pound cake

Aunt Sue is famous for her pound cake, but not just because of how delicious it is. Everyone gets a smile on their face when Aunt Sue shows up toting her cake holder, but that smile turns to giggles as she sets the pound cake out before the meal. You see, Aunt Sue has a particular tradition that has been passed down from her mama—she lets you eat the crust off the top of the pound cake before she serves it.

Buttery and dense, this is a classic that is pure decadence served next to a gravy boat filled with Mama’s Custard Sauce (recipe follows) over it. Do not preheat your oven for this recipe. Place the pound cake in the oven, and then turn it on.

6 eggs

1 cup (2 sticks) butter 3 cups sugar

3 cups all-purpose flour

1 cup whipping cream

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Grease and flour a tube pan and set out the eggs and butter to come to room temperature.

In a large bowl, cream the butter and sugar until smooth. Add the eggs, one at time, beating for 1 minute after each addition. Sift the flour and add it to the creamed mixture alternately with the whipping cream. Mix until fully incorporated. Stir in the vanilla.

Pour into the tube pan and place in a cold oven. Turn the oven to 300°F and bake for 80 to 90 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool completely before removing from the pan.

12 servings

mama’s custard sauce

thank goodness for my mother—if Aunt Sue’s pound cake is on the menu, she always makes sure this custard sauce is sitting right beside it. Rich and creamy, this is an old-fashioned sauce often used to pour over cakes. This recipe is hard to come by, as it is seldom written down, but rather passed through word of mouth as a little bit of this and a little bit of that. I’ve had several people ask me how to make this sauce after the good souls who used to make it in their family passed on.

½ cup sugar

¹/3 cup all-purpose flour

¹/8 teaspoon salt

2½ cups milk

3 egg yolks

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Combine the sugar, flour, and salt in a heavy medium saucepan. Whisk in the milk and place over medium heat. Cook, stirring constantly (see Note), until just hot.

In a small bowl, beat the egg yolks until smooth. Add about ½ cup of the hot milk mixture to the beaten eggs and stir. Pour the milk and egg mixture back into the saucepan and cook, stirring constantly over medium heat, until the custard begins to thicken. Remove from the heat and add the vanilla. Pour the custard through a strainer into a small pitcher. Cool, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate until ready to serve.

Note: I’m not kidding on the whole stir constantly thing here. Stirring prevents it from scorching, as it will easily do. This custard will seem like it’s never going to thicken and then seems to do it all at once, so stay close and stir constantly! If this is your first time making custard, you might want to opt for cooking it over medium-low heat—it will take a little longer, but you’ll have less of a chance of scorching.

2 cups

vanilla wafer cake

my mother got this recipe from her grandmother Mama Reed, and when she married my father, this was the first recipe she asked for to use in her own kitchen.

Mama Reed was known for her cakes and her large-scale baking. Of course, back then, they didn’t think of it that way—she had ten kids, so small-scale baking was certainly out of the question. During the winter when family was expected to visit, Mama Reed would start baking cakes a few days ahead of time, and due to space constraints in the house, she’d set them out on tables on the screened-in porch covered in towels to keep for the few days until company arrived. This cake is sturdy but very moist and would no doubt have been carefully set out along with the best of them. My mother says this is a great cake to take to gatherings, as it is more stable than others, so it travels very well. It can also sit under a cake dome for several days and still stay moist. Trust me, the only way we know this is from the times Mama made more than one!

6 eggs

One 12-ounce box vanilla wafers, crushed (see Note)

1 cup sweetened flaked coconut

½ cup milk 2 cups sugar

1 cup chopped nuts (we use pecans)

Preheat the oven to 350°F and grease and flour a tube or Bundt pan.

In a large bowl, beat the eggs well. Mix the remaining ingredients into the eggs.

Pour the mixture into the tube or Bundt pan. Bake for 1 hour, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Let sit in the pan for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a plate. Allow to cool completely.

Note: An easy way to crush your vanilla wafers is to place half of the box at a time in a gallon zipper-seal bag and roll over them with a rolling pin or glass, then repeat with the other half.

12 servings

why your mama is the best cook

every now and then a reader will respond to a recipe telling me it just isn’t like their mother’s. Sometimes they will go so far as to tell me I am doing something flat-out wrong because the recipe varies in some way from how their mama did it. It’s these comments that stand out the most to me because my heart just aches for these folks. I understand there is a lot more to what they are saying than ingredients and preparation methods.

It’s not like Mama’s is not so much about missing the food as it is missing the person.

I feel the same way even though I am fortunate enough to still have my mother with me. She was the one who taught me how to cook, and as a result, I cook just exactly like she does. Anyone could taste a dish made by Mama next to one of mine and not be able to tell a bit of difference. Still, to me my cooking just isn’t Mama’s.

I want to make one thing as clear as possible: How your Mama made it is the right way. No one will ever cook for you like your mama did, and I’m surely not here to try. But on the other hand, when I bring you a recipe, I’m going to bring it to you how my mama made it, which is the only right way for me.

I know how much a mama can mean to a person, and I hope I can help bring back some of those memories from time to time, maybe by telling you a little of my childhood or my mother’s childhood that reminds you of your own in some way. I hope that when this happens it brings a smile to your face, and most important, I hope that when you make a recipe of one of your loved ones it helps to bring a bit of their spirit into your kitchen again.

In the end, though, your mama will always be a better cook than you, me, Martha, or Julia. There was never any competition.

aunt looney’s macaroni salad

macaroni salad is a staple at family gatherings and barbecues in the South. It’s another one of those filling side dishes that can be made on the fly and with very little expense—our favorite kind. To get a Southern cook’s macaroni salad recipe, you have to be quick, though, as I’ve never known one who actually measured anything out. Instead we make it by heart, adding a little of this and a little of that. My sister-in-law Tina, affectionately known as Aunt Looney, makes a delicious salad, and I stood over her shoulder the last time we visited so I could bring you a recipe that would allow you to duplicate it. This tastes better if allowed to chill for several hours.

10 ounces dry macaroni

½ to ¾ cup mayonnaise (if you like more dressing, add the full amount)

1 tablespoon spicy brown mustard (you can use regular if you have it on hand)

One 4-ounce jar pimentos, drained

¹/3 cup sweet pickle relish Salt and pepper to taste (I start with ½ teaspoon of each)

Cook the macaroni according to the package directions. Drain in a colander and run cold water over