Collard Greens

In this pan-African menu, disparate parts of the continent are melded in a culinary way. The sausage is inherited from the Dutch colonialists in South Africa; the cashews, which were first brought from Brazil by the Portuguese, import a taste of Nigeria on the west coast and Mozambique on the east coast; and the spiced butter, called niter kibbeh, wafts in gently from Ethiopia. The rice and collard greens are pan-global.

I could live on collard greens and corn bread! I like collard greens better than turnip greens because I think collards are sweeter. When I make my corn bread and greens bowl (crumbled-up buttermilk corn bread covered with collard greens and a little juice), I add a little hot pepper just for fun. In the South, collard juice, or the cooking liquid that accumulates, is often called pot likker. My daddy always planted a big collard patch every spring, not only for the family but also to share with friends. Through the years, friends knew the patch was just out back of the barn and they were free to drive in and help themselves.

The bright green stir-fry of Chinese restaurants. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: if you can’t find gai lan, use broccoli raab or even collards or kale; broccoli or cauliflower will work too.

Think of this as the Middle Eastern version of creamed spinach, served at room temperature. The yogurt is uncooked, which keeps it fresh and tangy. Other vegetables to prepare this way: spinach.

Kale and collards are interchangeable here; just make sure to discard any stems more than 1/8 inch thick—they will not cook in time. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: any dark greens, like turnip, mustard, dandelion; shredded cabbage of any type.

Throughout the eastern Mediterranean, you’ll find cool cooked greens sprinkled with olive oil and doused with lemon. Every green you can cook is used in this way, from spinach to wild greens I’d never heard of. It’s great with collards, dandelions, mustard, broccoli raab . . . you get the idea. If you know you’re cooking greens one night, make a double batch and prepare these the next day. Juicy, tart, and refreshing, this is the ideal summer vegetable dish.

For the best flavor, you must use at least three types of greens—turnip, collard, mustard, and spinach are all good. When you brown the flour, you should stir it about five minutes. (I always keep a batch in the fridge.)

GINA This dish is the “queen of dressing,” because dressing and collards are two favorites of mine. I add bacon, ’cause you gotta have some pig, and the carrots give it a different spin from your traditional dish. You’ll want to think ahead with this recipe and make that corn bread the day before. It needs to be dry enough to soak up all the good flavors.

GINA Ever since I was a little girl, my mom has been telling me that if you don’t eat black-eyed peas on New Year’s Day you’ll have a bad year ahead of you. Now, when I was younger I didn’t care a bit. I was going through that awkward stage anyway—how much worse could it be? But as I got older, I learned to love that black-eyed pea tradition, convinced that my year was going to be fantastic! And you know what’s funny? I tell my girls the same thing. Who says traditions and superstitions aren’t effective? Not to mention that black-eyed peas are rich in calcium and vitamin A. What could be bad about that? Of course, this being a Gina recipe, I added in my favorite collard greens. . . . Mmm, even better.

PAT You won’t find a collard green—or a green of any kind, for that matter—that Gina hasn’t mastered and found a dozen ways to cook. She’s queen of the twists on greens. The idea for this particular twist came from stuffed cabbage with a vinegary red sauce—but we think this is even better than that recipe. Don’t you?

A few years ago, at Easter, in addition to the usual spread of ham and sides, I made a gratin of white beans, country ham, and collards from Frank Stitt’s very fine Southern Table cookbook. That dish, which everyone raved about, and the leftover ham bone—a prized ingredient that should never, ever be put to waste—inspired this low-on-the-hog soup.

We first developed this recipe as a side for a vegetarian dish we were serving at Bayona. We wanted to create the traditional smoky pork flavor of southern greens without using pork. That’s when we thought about smoking the onions. The smokiness imparts a tremendously satisfying and “meaty” flavor, but if you want to prepare this dish in the real southern way, don’t hesitate to throw some bacon, ham, or salt pork in the pot. Also, we tend to cook ours a little drier (mainly for presentation, so it plates up neater), so if you want more pot liquor, add more water early on.

Collard greens are a point of southern pride. Any barbecue or soul food restaurant worth its salt has a place for these mustardy-flavored greens. In the South, collard greens are typically cooked with a ham hock or smoked turkey wings to give a great smoky flavor to the greens and the broth—or pot liquor as it is referred to in local parlance. You can definitely add either to this recipe, but I like to use chipotle chiles to give not only smokiness but also a little heat to this dish. I prefer my collard greens to retain some bite and cook them until tender, not to melting. The greens have a natural sweetness that is both accentuated and balanced by the finishing splash of apple cider vinegar. Sweet, smoky, and slightly vinegary, these collard greens definitely deliver a touch of soul to the table.

Many people think the term porterhouse refers to the size of the steak, but that is not the case. Porterhouse is an on-the-bone cut with a portion of the flavorful strip on one side of the bone and the tender filet on the other. With its lacquering of barbecue sauce and side of a corn–collard green tart, this dish is an ode to the South. The Carolinas are fanatical about mustard-based barbecue sauces. Mustard lends a tangy heat that is offset by dark, sweet molasses, and both are mellowed by mild honey and light rice wine vinegar. This barbecue sauce is as at home with lamb as it is with the smoked pork of the Carolinas. The tart’s savory filling is basically a corn pudding run through with strips of collard greens.

Take a break from cooking and make a satisfying meal from raw fruits and vegetables. This drink takes about twelve minutes to make from start to finish. It’s a great way to get your greens without any work, and I like the slightly fibrous texture the greens impart. The smoothie is good for two days if you want to have it for a few meals. After storing it overnight in the refrigerator, just reblend it for a few seconds. As different fruits come into season, try berries instead of oranges, or a ripe peach instead of the banana. In hot weather, blend in several ice cubes.

In the summer, we’d sit on the porch shelling the black-eyed peas that Dede had picked that morning. The purple hulls dyed our fingers smoky violet. I’ve used frozen black-eyed peas to prepare this soup, but don’t use canned, as they are too soft. If using frozen peas, reduce the cooking time according to the package instructions or until the peas are tender. Note that the dried peas must soak overnight or have a quick soak. Don’t skip the essential step of simmering the ham hocks in the chicken stock. The flavor and aroma are what makes this soup extraordinary.

You simply won’t believe your mouth when you taste these greens. They smell like bacon, and taste a lot like bacon, but there is no bacon. The flavor comes from smoked salt. In its pure state, salt is a simple chemical compound, sodium chloride. There are many types of salt from all over the world that contain different elements and minerals. But things get really “fired up” when salt is smoked. The best ones are slowly smoked over a natural fire, often made of used oak barrels recycled from making wine. The smoke permeates the salt crystals, infusing them with a rich, distinct smoked taste, and transforms their color from a light toasty brown to deep amber. This ingredient adds a unique flavor to a wide range of dishes, including beef, pork, duck, chicken, and fish. I use it most often in Southern-style vegetables, to replicate that smoky taste evocative of hog jowl or bacon without the fat, and it is great for vegetarians. Other favorites that I prepare with smoked salt are black-eyed peas and butter beans. If you can’t find smoked salt (available online and at specialty markets), you have permission to use bacon.

Some traditional Southern cooks swear you have to cook your collards all day long. This recipe has a great silky, tender texture and good bacony flavor, but you don’t have to quit your day job to make it. Collards also pair well with Double Orange Pork Chops (page 24) and Down-Home Pinto Beans and Ham Hocks (page 127).

Collard greens with bacon or ham are a classic—spicy, smoky, and tender in an addictive savory broth. Most recipes splash in some vinegar to add a little tang and balance the bitterness of the greens. Soy sauce adds a different spin to this Southern staple. Try this alongside Thyme-Smoked Four-Inch Porterhouse Steak (page 168) or Whole Roasted Chicken with Plumped Raisins, Toasted Pine Nuts, and Arugula (page 142).

Superstition across the southeastern United States holds that eating hog jowls, collard greens, and black-eyed peas on New Year’s Day will make a person healthy, wealthy, and wise. Hog jowl, which is the cheek of a pig, is a flavorful and fatty meat that is usually cured or smoked. Hard to believe a food as rich and fat-laden as hog jowl is linked to health and prosperity. These meager foods have always been a symbol of plenty for people who are often very poor. The “good-luck” traditions of black-eyed peas in the Southern United States date back to the Civil War, when Union troops ravaged Southern lands, destroying crops and taking all livestock. All that was left were black-eyed peas, which were considered to be fodder for horses and other animals; as a result, many Southerners subsisted on this protein-rich and hearty legume.

Big Bob always had a standing policy at his restaurant that when you were on the clock you ate for free. Some companies give their staff stock options; Big Bob always gave his staff real Southern fixings. Many staples of the staff meals were not offered to the customers and it was not uncommon to walk into his restaurant and smell fried chicken, sweet potatoes, or catfish cooking. Thank God hickory smoke usually trumped any other aroma or Big Bob Gibson Bar-B-Q might have turned into Big Bob’s Southern Kitchen. While turnip greens have never graced the menu at Big Bob Gibson Bar-B-Q, they were cooked almost as often as any side dish on the menu. Always made with the restaurant’s smoked slab bacon, this recipe showcases the simple delight of seasoned greens. Pair them with black-eyed peas, fried potatoes, and cornbread to taste a typical employee meal in Big Bob’s kitchen.