There’s nothing remotely Southern about me. I can’t name the capital of Virginia. I have no idea whether Lee or Grant led the Confederate troops into battle (although I do know who won the war). And for the life of me, I simply don’t get the concept of boiled peanuts. For years my only primer to Southern society and mores was Gone With the Wind, Steel Magnolias, and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. And I’m not ashamed to admit that I have, when in a mischievous mood, borrowed from Scarlett O’Hara, that great screen goddess, when entertaining. See, our house in Roxbury has four big columns in front. It looks more like a home from the lower half of the Mason-Dixon Line than anything remotely in keeping with Connecticut’s clapboard colonial sameness. When we’re expecting guests with resilient senses of humor and hearty constitutions, I don my big floppy gardening hat, sit coyly on the front stairs, doing my best Scarlett to no one in particular. Vivien Leigh won an Oscar for her captivating ways. I’m usually awarded a chorus line of shaking heads and pitiful looks as everyone steps over me on their way inside.
Bottom line, nary was there ever a gay man more in need of schooling in True Southern hospitality.
So earlier this year when I visited Beth Price, our director of recipe testing, in Charleston, South Carolina (which, I later learned, is not the capital of the state) for an LC gathering, I was literally a galumphing Yankee in a Southern lady’s courtyard. In those four days, Beth did much to instruct me in the ways of her South. I learned, for instance, the oft-repeated “Bless her/his heart” isn’t the invocation my blessed evangelical mother uses as much as it’s meant to insinuate a person beyond the pale–basically, hopeless. I found out how to conduct myself at an oyster roast, which is with abandon in one hand and a linen napkin in the other. And I discovered pimento cheese.
I have no idea why, but I’d always thought pimento cheese was some dotty old aunt of pimento loaf—a vile delicatessen concoction of forced meat studded with pimento-filled green olives—that my grandfather Costa used to make me eat for lunch. But no. Pimento cheese, I was thrilled to find out, is reason enough to pull up stakes and permanently move to Charleston. For those Northerners who are sadly unacquainted with its bewitching ways (bless your hearts), pimento cheese is Cheddar cheese mixed with mayonnaise, chopped pimento, and, depending on where in the South you are, various other seasonings.
The pimento cheese I practically devoured all by myself at Beth’s was from a recipe by food writer Rebecca Lang. I contained myself on the evening of the big cocktail party, instead welcoming Leite’s Culinaria folks and fans. But the next morning, when I arrived on Beth’s doorstep hungry and a bit hung over, it was a whopping pimento-cheese sandwich that she thwapped into my hand. And I am absolutely not embarrassed to say that throughout the day, I outmuscled and outmaneuvered her skinny adolescent son in order to get the lion’s share of the two 1-pound containers of cheese she had tucked in the back of her fridge.
So a few weeks ago when I had a craving, I thought, what a lovely thing it would make mounded high on Carr’s Table Water Crackers for the holidays. So I called Beth.
“Bunny, can you tell me, does that pimento cheese of yours work at a formal affair?”
I could practically hear her eyes rolling on the other end. “Well, Fatty Daddy, I’m serving it at a black-tie affair. Does that count as formal?” Damn, if only Faulkner could’ve been so witty, I thought, I would’ve read more of him.
Tonight, The One and I will ring in 2014—a year that I’m sure will be one of the finest ever—with crab and lobster and yet another largish bowl of pimento cheese. And when I wake up on January 1, there’s no way I’m going to have Scarlett’s famous 17-inch waist—corset or no corset. But that’s okay. After all, tomorrow’s another day. Originally published December 31, 2013.
Pimento Cheese
Adapted from Rebecca Lang | Around the Southern Table | Oxmoor House, 2012
After having consumed approximately half of Vermont’s supply of Cheddar cheese in the name of research, I’ve discovered that this pimento cheese recipe from Rebecca Lang is the best dang pimento cheese I’ve ever had. I also found that doing yourself a favor and making it a day ahead of time only improves the taste. The onion mellows, the pimento perks up, the color blends, and everything becomes, well, ambrosial. And it’s one less thing for you to do the day of when guests are on their way. And you can do waaaaay more than just slather the pimento cheese on crackers. You can also set it out as part of a crudités platter, stuff it in sandwiches (whether petite tea party bites or gooey grilled cheese sandwiches), or perhaps even scoop it straight from the container at 2:00 a.m. as you lean against the sink. Not that I know anything about that.–David Leite
Mellow Yellow Cheddar Cheese Note
When a Southerner makes pimento cheese, he or she is usually pretty particular about the type of cheese. David isn’t a Southerner but he is plenty particular about his recipes. He instructed us to share with you that he uses white Cheddar, not orange. He prefers the flavor of white. Besides, you still get a lovely orange tint from the pimentos. We haven’t run this by the author of the recipe, Rebecca Lang, although we’re curious to hear what she thinks. Let’s see if she notices…
Video: How to Make Rebecca Lang's Pimento Cheese
Video courtesy of WGN
Pimento Cheese
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(6)
10 M
10 M
Serves 12 | Makes 3 cups
4.8/5 - 6 reviews
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1 pound sharp white Cheddar cheese (or if you’re a true Southerner, by all means, stick with orange Cheddar)
3/4 cup store bought or homemade mayonnaise
One (4-ounce) jar pimentos, drained well
2 tablespoons grated Vidalia or other sweet onion
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
Crackers, toast points, crudités, or anything else you can think to serve with it
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Directions
Grate the cheese in a food processor or on the large holes of a box grater. (Just between us, a food processor is the way to go. Five seconds max. Although you can do it by hand just for old-time’s sake to get that Southern nostalgia mood going.)
In a bowl or your food processor, mix the grated cheese, mayonnaise, pimentos, grated onion, and a few good grinds pepper until blended. Resist the urge to dig in immediately. Instead, cover it and stash it in the fridge for at least a couple hours and, preferably, 24 hours. (Trust us, the pimento cheese is unspeakably better after it rests. You can refrigerate it for up to 4 days, provided you can resist it that long.)
To serve, decant the pimento cheese into your loveliest serving dish. Serve with crackers, toast points, crudités, or anything you fancy.
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