Of all the lost causes over which tears have been shed in the South, none is closer to my stomach than the inability of that region’s statesmen and soldiers to convince the rest of the nation to eat grits or show a proper respect for hominy.
Believe it or not, the first grits was neither “true” nor eaten by a Southerner. (It wasn’t even a grit, if you subscribe, along with most Southerners of my acquaintance, to the view that “grits” is singular, as in “Grits is good.”)
Instead, sometime after the Massachusetts Indians showed the Pilgrims how to grow, harvest and eat corn on the cob (along the rows, not around the cob, but that’s a discussion for another day), the settlers observed a pot containing a messy-looking mixture of corn kernels, wood ashes and water. After a day of soaking and rinsing, the kernels emerged as puffed up and white as popcorn. This was hominy. The hominy was then either dried whole or ground into a coarse meal that was used to make a porridge called “groats.”
More than the ashes were rinsed off in translating this porridge into the Southern vernacular. It emerged on breakfast menus south of the Mason-Dixon line as “grits,” and so it has remained.
Contrary to the stereotyped view, neither hominy nor grits was widely consumed in the the antebellum South. Their time came in the final quarter of the 19th Century and now appears to be ending. In “Southern Food,” published in 1987, John Egerton notes: “The U.S. Department of Agriculture’s barometer of grits consumption has been falling slowly but steadily over the past 20 years or so, and, now, for the first time, annual per capita consumption has dropped below three pounds. (Hominy hardly registers on the scale at all.) Even in the South . . . these traditional dishes are definitely on the wane.”
Too bad. I’ll miss grits, though I must admit that to cure the curse of blandness, I’ve always used them as a vehicle for breakfast sausage or bacon, egg yolk or syrup, and there’s no chance of selling grits and grease in this this era of nutritional Puritanism. But grits do bring pleasure in well-seasoned dishes such as grits souffle, or spoonbread.
Hominy, which is found in cans hereabouts when it is found at all, may have a brighter future. I say this because hominy plays a role in the increasingly popular cooking of the Southwest, where the Native Americans found its blandness a fine foil for the spice of chili peppers, and the Mexicans incorporated it into a soup-stew called posole.
Hominy also is sexy. It’s the texture: Whole hominy has a curious, stick-to-the-tooth, firm-then-soft sensualism. Don’t laugh until you’ve tried it, perhaps in one of the following recipes:
HOMINY WITH GREEN CHILIES AND SOUR CREAM
Eight to 10 servings
3 cans (16 ounces each) hominy, drained and rinsed
8 canned peeled green chilies (2 four-ounce cans), cut into 1-by-1-inch pieces)
1/2 pound Monterey jack cheese, cut into small cubes
1 1/2 to 2 cups sour cream
1/3 cup buttered bread crumbs
1. Heat oven to 350 degrees. Arrange a layer of hominy in a 2 1/2-quart casserole. Scatter green chile pieces and cheese over the hominy and spread with some of the sour cream.
2. Continue making layers in this fashion, ending with hominy. Sprinkle with buttered crumbs.
3. Bake until top is browned and casserole piping hot, 30 to 40 minutes.
-Adapted from “American Cookery,” by James Beard
HOMINY GRITS SPOONBREAD
Eight to 10 servings
1 tablespoon butter
2 cups cooked hominy grits
3 eggs, separated
1/2 cup white cornmeal
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt, or to taste
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1/2 teaspoon hot-pepper sauce, Tabasco preferred
Milk (about 1 to 1 1/2 cups)
1/2 teaspoon cream of tartar
1. Heat oven to 350 degrees. Combine the butter, hominy grits, egg yolks (which have been well-beaten), cornmeal, baking powder, seasoning and enough milk to make a custardlike consistency. Finally, fold in the egg whites, beaten stiff but not dry with the cream of tartar.
2. Pour the mixture into a 2-quart souffle mold or baking dish and bake for approximately 1 hour.
-From “American Cookery,” by James Beard
NEW MEXICAN POSOLE
Four to six servings
1 1/4-1 1/2 pounds lean boneless pork, cut into very small cubes
1 large onion, coarsley chopped
2 large dried New Mexico chilies, seeded
3 cloves garlic, crushed
1 teaspoon oregano
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
2 cups cooked or canned hominy, drained and rinsed
1/2 teaspoon salt, or more to taste
Finely chopped fresh hot chilies, chopped green onion and chopped cilantro for garnish
1. Place pork in a saucepan. Cover with water and slowly bring to a boil. Drain and rinse pork.
2. In a large heavy skillet or pot, combine all the ingredients except the salt and hominy. Add 4 cups water (or half water and half chicken broth), bring to a boil. Lower heat and simmer the stew over low to moderate heat, uncovered, for 1 1/2 to 2 hours or until the meat is very tender. Add hominy for last half hour of cooking. If the mixture becomes too dry while cooking, add more water.
3. When the posole is done, add salt to taste. The mixture should be a sort of soupy stew, best served, like chili, in bowls. Pass the chopped fresh hot chilies, green onions and cilantro to add as desired.
-Adapted from “Blue Corn and Chocolate,” by Elisabeth Rozin
VEGETABLE POSOLE
Six to eight servings
1 small onion, chopped
1 carrot, diced
1 small sweet green or red pepper, seeded and diced
2 cloves garlic, crushed
2 tablespoons oil
2 or 3 plum tomatoes, chopped
6 cups chicken or turkey stock (or vegetable broth for a vegetarian dish)
Good pinch crushed dried hot peppers
1/2 teaspoon oregano
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
1 (16 ounce) can hominy, drained
1 small zucchini, diced
Small handful chopped fresh coriander (cilantro)
Additional chopped coriander for garnish
1. In a medium saucepan, saute the onion, carrot, green pepper and garlic in the oil until the onion just begins to turn gold.
2. Add all the other ingredients except the garnish and simmer uncovered over low heat for 20 to 30 minutes.
3. Serve the soup very hot with the additional chopped coriander for garnish.
-From “Blue Corn and Chocolate,” by Elisabeth Rozin.
