A Yankee in a Southern Kitchen

Hi mom, I won’t be by till after seven tonight to pick up Peri. ( Peri is my daughter’s Springer who comes to see me and Scout every day.)

That’s fine as I should have dinner made by then, join us. I am making Fried Chicken Salad with Buttermilk Dressing.

Thanks mom, but I am beat. Will just grab Peri and head home and make a sandwich or something.

Okay, but if you change your mind I have plenty.

Oh, my gosh my daughter is catching whatever the husband has. Meredith, as all my children do, loves my food. Did I hear her right? Did she say that? That she would rather eat a sandwich than my cooking, Especially Southern Buttermilk Fried Chicken? Her version of a sandwich was going to be; deli turkey and Swiss on something to hold it together. Not my gourmet version of a sandwich which I posted about last week.

The Buttermilk Fried Chicken looked good enough to take a risk of injuring yourself while grabbing a piece as soon as it left the frying pan on it’s way to the paper towels.

I wasn’t about to let this curve ball throw me off course as determination and longing for some time cooking was in order. The closest I have been to a stove in the last two days is catching a peek of one out of the corner of my eye while shopping at Lowe’s and Home Depot. It is a miracle that I can even lower my head to type as most of that time has been spent with my head back while braced on my shoulders looking up towards the ceilings at light fixtures. I do not like to pick out lights. We had a whole house to do. My neck hurts.

We are only about two three two weeks away from moving in, if all goes like clockwork. The house is swarming with contractors. Oh how I wish the stove was in. I am chomping at the bit to cook in the new kitchen and for a crew, no less. Sort of my version of Under the Tuscan Sun; which will be Under the Charleston Sun. You know the movie scene where Dianne Lane cooks for the guys who redo her Italian farm house. Can you imagine how much fun that would be? Sure you can.

Who wouldn’t want to be Dianne Lane? There is no way I could ever look like Dianne Lane, so I am not going to waste my time thinking about that one. My energy is going to be focused on Dianne Lane the cook? A cook in a villa, or in my case a cook in an Arts & Craft bungalow. Who wouldn’t want Dianne Lane’s attitude toward the mess and mishaps that go along with a renovation? Well, my husband for one. Who wouldn’t want to pretend to be Dianne Lane for a day or two cooking? Who wouldn’t want to cook for hungry workers with hearty appetites?

The Italian guys in the movie are use to home cooking. Imagine cooking for guys that are use to grabbing a burger or something at a fast food joint everyday for lunch. There is enormous potential here and not one to let a good thought go;I have a plan hatching. Especially since my husband’s full time crew consists of three nice hard working men- who put up with me getting in the way every once in awhile.

I have jars of Pickled Cucumbers, vegetables, warm Potato Yeast Rolls, Fried Chicken, Tomato Pie, Lemon-Buttermilk Ice Cream with Cornmeal Sweet Biscuits, a grand Lane Cake and more skipping through my head like flash cards. This is going to be so good……………..

Enough, time to return to last night.

Standing over the stove frying buttermilk drenched fried chicken was how my daughter found me. A quick hello as she proceeded to look in the refrigerator.

Are these grits?

Yes, creamy cheese grits that I made for dinner last night.

May I have some?

Of course, just reheat them in the microwave a little bit.

When is the chicken going to be done?

Soon, not long before the first batch is out. I also have a salad and Buttermilk Dressing to go with it.

Oh my gosh, that chicken looks so incredible, you are becoming a real Southern mom!

With words like that I almost melted into the frying pan. Meredith is my only daughter with a Southern accent. She is borned and raised in the South. So when she says, you are becoming a real Southern mom, it has merit to it.

I know you are all hungry so let’s get to the recipe. Serve the fried chicken with a salad and the calories will balance out. Trust me. Plus, it tastes really good. This batch of fried chicken was made with boneless-skinless chicken breasts.

There are many versions of fried chicken, and we will talk about them all sooner or later. For last night’s dinner we just did the quick; no less tasty version. So good, that when I am done posting. I am heading to the frig for a piece cold.

Southern Buttermilk Fried Chicken

Use 1 boneless-skinless piece per person. I rinsed and patted dry my chicken. Pound each piece slightly between wax paper or parchment paper, with a rolling pin or mallet till a touch thinner. Slice in 5 sections on the diagnol. Then put chicken in a large bowl and pour buttermilk to cover. Let sit for an hour to overnight. I just sat mine on the counter for an hour while I made the dressing and prepared the salad greens.

Heat vegetable oil till 335degrees in a cast iron skillet or Dutch oven. Fill a large zip lock bag with 2 cups of flour, 1 teaspoon salt and lots of freshly cracked pepper. Shake the flour mixture. In groups of three drop in drained chicken and toss and coat the chicken breasts. Drop carefully into a hot pan and fry about 4 minutes each side. Do not overcrowd pan. Drain on crumpled paper towel.

For the dressing; I have seen a few versions. You can mix the herbs using parsley and grated cucumber for a different variation. Also a little dry mustard if you want and don’t be afraid to experiment. This dressing is thin; not thick like the inferior store bought brand. Don’t I sound like a food snob? This is worthy of keeping on hand as it is full of flavor and light and tangy.

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Buttermilk Dressing

Ronnie Lundy, Butterbeans to Blackberries

1 tablespoon cider vinegar

1 teaspoon brown sugar

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

1 teaspoon minced celery leavews

2 good drops of Tabasco

1/2 cup buttermilk

1 tablespoon finely minced green onion

• Mix all the ingredients togther with a whisk and keep chilled till ready to use.

Mercy me, I forgot to mention the husband’s reaction; very good, very good is what I received. This by the way is my second very good for the week. The first doesn’t count. I will tell you tomorrow why it doesn’t count when we talk about rhubarb. Till then, enjoy.