Beverages

The wonderful contrast between buttery, almost confited duck legs and crispy, skillet-fried breast is worth the little bit of extra effort this dish requires. Add a bottle of Syrah or Pinot Noir and a few easy sides, like a simple green salad and Buttermilk Mashed Creamers (page 238), and you’ve got the makings of an elegant dinner party.

With blue crabs, sausage, corn on the cob, and tender new potatoes, this lowcountry-inspired shrimp boil makes for a rustic and utterly delicious spread that is just the thing for impromptu summertime gatherings. I sometimes serve it in individual tins or buckets, but that’s about as refined as I ever get with this low-key dish, which is best eaten right out of the bucket or from a big pile on the table, with a crowd of friends, and always with your fingers.

Despite its name, this traditional shrimp dish isn’t so much barbecue as a savory, saucy stew. It gets its full-bodied flavor from Worcestershire sauce and dark beer, and a dose of fresh lemon gives it a bright, clean finish.

Red-eye gravy—which for most Southerners is the only acceptable sauce for country ham—is a savory and slightly bitter mixture of black coffee and the pan drippings left behind from frying country ham. I’m not sure how the coffee first made its way into the pan, but I like to imagine it was one of those happy accidents born of necessity. It rings true, anyway, because Southerners love gravy so much that they will find a way to eke some out of a greasy pan no matter what. I lighten my version of this quintessentially Southern dish with a bright shock of fresh, green asparagus, which plays perfectly off the saltiness of the red-eye gravy and the richness of the runny egg yolks.

When Southerners say “tea,” they mean basic black—as in Lipton or Tetley, not English Breakfast or Earl Grey—iced and sweet. It is the ubiquitous, unofficial drink of the South.

My friend Wendy makes the best Bloody Marys—full of punchy, spicy flavor. Serve them with little dishes of pickles as well as the usual cucumber and celery spears for fun mix-and-match garnishes.

Now the official cocktail of New Orleans, this spicy, heady concoction was the creation of a Creole apothecary named Peychaud whose medicinal tinctures became after-hours cocktails with the addition of whiskey and sugar.

The delicate, orange like flavor of Meyer lemons is what sets this mellow lemonade apart. For a cocktail version, spike the punch bowl with a glug or two of Jack Daniel’s.

The combination of bittersweet grapefruit, lime, and salt in this refreshing cocktail is a true palate cleanser.

Thanks to the Kentucky Derby, mint juleps are the best known—and perhaps best loved—of all Southern cocktails. The details are much debated, but the basics are these: fresh spearmint, lightly bruised; smoky-sweet bourbon; cane sugar; and crushed ice. A combination so good, there isn’t much that can be done to improve it.

A nice splash of brandy adds depth of flavor to this creamy pâté, which is just right served on crostini, toast points (see Know-how, page 19), or Cornbread Toasts (page 18) topped with Sweet Pickle Relish (page 299). For the best results, start with fresh livers from the butcher or farmer’s market that haven’t been frozen. Note that the chicken livers must soak in buttermilk for several hours prior to cooking.

A favorite from the land of the Jazz Brunch … Sometimes this is made with half-and-half, cream, or even ice cream to create a richer drink.

Watch out for these—they go down easy!

When I first got Rick Bayless’s Mexican Kitchen, I was so inspired by the recipes that I invited people over and made brunch for the first time in years. It was a warm, sunny New Orleans winter day, and I picked satsumas from my backyard tree and made these margaritas to welcome everyone.