Image courtesy of the Atlanta Botanical Gardens

The good news: For the third year in a row, the Atlanta Botanical Garden asked me to participate in their Well-Seasoned Chef Series, a four-part cooking class in their edible garden outdoor kitchen.

The bad news: I tend to talk too much at these things and forget that people want to eat.

Still, the premise of the class was fantastic: how to make dinner for 30 people and have almost everything done ahead of time. I showed them skills and gave them recipes but I also peppered in some entertaining advice along the way:

Lesson #1 — Be willing to experiment on people

Sure, you can make the same thing you’ve always made the same way you’ve always made it, but where’s the fun in that? If you make something and it doesn’t work out, it’s not the end of the world. Your food does not have to be perfect. It’s your home, not a restaurant, so relax.

I started with pecan crackers topped with Many Fold Farms brebis cheese and Serenbe fig jam, which are so beautiful and simple. Then I did herb salad with orange balsamic vinaigrette, which brings me to my next two lessons:

Lesson #2 — Homemade vinaigrettes are easy

Oil, vinegar and some sort of sweet or savory element. Salt and pepper. You may never buy another $8 pre-made bottle again.

Lesson #3 — Never plate food at home

Restaurants serve individual plates of food, but at home I always serve buffet-style. The quickest way to bury yourself in the kitchen and make sure everyone eats lukewarm foods at different times is to plate it yourself.

After the salad, I made roasted wild salmon with caramelized Vidalia onions, sautéed collard greens with lemon-onion butter and a grits soufflé with arugula and goat cheese, instead of my usual recipe, which includes collards and cheddar (see Lesson #1).

Before the class, I emailed the person in charge and asked if I had any repeat attendees because I planned to make the same lemon curd parfait with fresh blueberries and gingersnap cookies that I did last year. Then I got to the farmer’s market, which leads me to the last lesson.

Lesson #4 — Plan your menu and be open to throwing it out the window

As soon as I saw that the first peaches were in, my parfait plan turned into sour cream pound cake with peaches, mint and ginger. Establish a menu, but let the farmers and their fresh produce be your guide. It’s like former president Dwight D. Eisenhower said, “In planning for battle, I have always found that plans are useless, but planning is indispensible.”

Sour Cream Pound Cake with Peaches, Mint and Ginger

6-8 peaches

1/2 cup mint leaves, chopped

1/2 cup ginger liqueur

Natural sugar

2 cups heavy cream, whipped

Powdered sugar

1 recipe sour cream pound cake (recipe follows)

Peel and slice peaches. Place in bowl. If not sweet enough, add some natural sugar. Then add mint leaves and ginger liqueur. Let sit for 30 minutes to 1 hour to macerate.

Whip cream in a mixer. Sweeten with powdered sugar and some ginger liqueur. Set aside in refrigerator until ready for use.

Slice pound cake and arrange nicely on a platter. Take macerated peaches and spoon over the cake slices. Let sit for several minutes for the syrup to soak into the cake. May want to sprinkle more liqueur over the slices.

Top with whip cream. Garnish with some mint leaves.

Sour Cream Pound Cake

1 pound butter

2 teaspoons vanilla

¼ teaspoons baking soda

6 eggs

3 cups sugar

1 cup sour cream

3 cups flower

Cream butter and sugar together. Mix baking soda into the sour cream and add the vanilla. Add 1 cup flour and 2 eggs alternately until all is used.

Bake at 325 degrees for 1 hour 15 minutes in a 10-inch tube pan.

For about five years during my childhood, both of my grandmothers lived with my family at the same time. They were very different women who didn’t get along very well. My mother’s mother had a college education—which was unheard of for women in the early 1900s—and became the first female dietician for the Georgia school system. My father’s mother, Granny Lupo, was a very simple country woman who never had a job. They came from different worlds and had to share a bathroom, which made for some very interesting times.

Granny Lupo didn’t have a college education, but she knew her mint. She grew a patch of spearmint in our backyard and made sweet mint tea in the summer. When Steve and I bought the farm, I knew I wanted to have a mint patch for mint tea. I grow a lot of mint and sometimes it’s still not enough to make tea for all the people who ask if they can have some.

“Is it time, Marie?” the regulars at The Farmhouse ask me hopefully.“Is it mint tea season yet?” It’s that good. There aren’t a lot of things I say are perfect or “the best,” but my mint tea is perfect and it’s the best. And the key to making it perfect is forgetting everything you think you know about making iced tea.

Three things:

1. Get bed-raised mint. The stuff you buy in the store tastes dramatically different.
2. Get lots of it. More than you think you need.
3. Pour hot water over the sugar—a regular amount of sugar, people; we’re not making candy here—and the mint. The hot water literally cooks the mint. A lot of people think you can add mint at the end, but it doesn’t get the job done

I crave it. There’s a half-gallon in my fridge right now. My best friend craves it so much that, when she flies in from Maryland for meetings in Atlanta, she calls and says, “Where’s the tea?” And if she doesn’t have enough time to get to Serenbe, I’ll meet her at the airport with a big batch and we’ll just sit in my car and drink it until she has to get on the plane.

Mint Tea

2 quarts water

1/3 cup sugar

8 black tea bags (preferably Lipton)

4 cups fresh mint

Bring water to a boil. Stir in sugar until dissolved.

In a half gallon pitcher or container, place mint and tea bags and pour hot water over this.

Let cool to room temperature. Strain the liquid by squeezing the liquid from the tea bags to achieve maximum flavor.

Add more water, if needed, to make a full half gallon.

Leading up to Atlanta chef/restaurateur Ford Fry’s visit to the Southern Chefs Series earlier this month, I’d get these great texts from him:

I’m thinking of doing squid ink pasta with wood-roasted langoustine, breadcrumbs, chilies and mint. Does that sound good?

Planning to grill 40-ounce porterhouse steaks over a wood fire. Would that be okay?

And every time I’d get one, I’d think, really? Ford Fry is the man behind JCT. Kitchen, No. 246, St. Cecilia, King & Duke, and The Optimist, which was Esquire magazine’s Restaurant of the Year in 2012. Of course it sounds good.

Ford Fry is not hung up on being Ford Fry, despite countless awards and accolades. Every time he’s come to my kitchen, he’s so accessible, so good and just wants to make sure everyone understands what he’s doing, has fun and likes what they’re eating.

My favorite thing Ford made this time was pan con tomate, a traditional Spanish breakfast dish. He took really good bread (from Holeman & Finch), covered them with an entire $30 bottle of olive oil and baked them in the oven. Then he rubbed garlic and fresh tomato on top.

As we head into tomato season, this recipe should be front and center in your kitchen, covered with little splatters of olive oil and tomato seeds.

Pan Con Tomate

Serves 6

6 each 1-inch slices of crusty, rustic bread

1 each super ripe, local tomatoes, cut in half cross-wise

½ cup good extra virgin olive oil

1 clove fresh garlic

Maldon salt to taste

Either pre-heat oven to 450 degrees or heat a wood grill to medium high heat. Brush bread slices generously with olive oil. Season to taste with maldon salt. Grill or oven toast the bread until the edge are almost burned while the center is medium toasted and still chewy.

Rub a garlic clove across the toast softly then rub rip tomatoes over the toast, somewhat smashing the tomato. Serve warm.

Next up: Chef/restaurateur Kevin Gillespie, August 17-18. To register, call The Inn at Serenbe at 770.463.2610.

What are the ingredients in your perfect day? A long, hot bath? A walk in the woods? A   drive down country roads with the windows down and the music up?

I find that the things that make my heart sing haven’t changed much since I was a child. Like most adults, I get caught up in the doing-ness of life and make different choices with the way I spend my time now, but when I need a dose of pure, uncomplicated joy, I make myself a mud pie.

I recently shared my love of mud pies with my friend Miss Janice, whose husband’s family has lived in the Chattahoochee Hill Country for seven generations. She said, “You know, Marie, those mud pies are an early indication of your love of cooking.”

And that makes so much sense to me. At my childhood home, we had a huge, beautiful mimosa tree in our yard with pink flowers and I’d use its funky looking leaves as plates for my mud pies and serve them at pretend meals. Making mud pies gave me the freedom to create. If I put in too much liquid, I learned that my pie wouldn’t hold together well. I was adjusting my own recipes at three years old.

Not every mother lets her children play in the mud, but mine did—and it turned me into a mother who did the same. We put in three pools at different times and houses when my daughters were young and every time the girls wanted to roll around in the mud. I have great pictures of them literally covered in mud and smiling from ear to ear.

Mud is good for you in more ways than one. I recently found a book in my library called Earthing about the health benefits of dirt and the nutrients that come through the soil. Where do plants grow? Where do they get their nutrients? A little dirt in your system can be good for you and your immune system.

No matter what brings you back to that place of child-like joy, make time for it today. Maybe it’s riding your bike and letting go of the handlebars as you ride down a hill. Maybe it’s wading through a cold creek while the tadpoles dart around your toes. And if it’s making mud pies, try this recipe I perfected many backyard pretend picnics ago.

Mud Pies

1 bowl

1 big spoon or small shovel

2 hands

Water as needed

Use big spoon or small shovel to dig up dirt, mix it with water to the consistency you like and make mud pies with your hands.

1 bowl

1 big spoon or small shovel

2 hands

Water as needed

Use the big spoon or small shovel to dig up dirt, mix it with water to the consistency you like and make mud pies with your hands.

Fried Fish Tacos

A few weeks ago, I hired a crew of construction guys to do a bathroom renovation at the Mimosa cottage at The Inn at Serenbe. We had a very small window of four days to make it happen and a lot of work to do, so I made them this offer: If you will work around the clock, you can stay at The Inn and I’ll feed you breakfast, lunch and dinner. I’ll do (almost) anything to keep a good construction crew happy.

They didn’t think about it very long.

Those guys ate, breathed and slept that bathroom renovation. They put beautiful marble tile and a soaker tub in the Mimosa, the cottage Steve and I lived in when we first moved to the farm. They worked and worked, only taking breaks to sip the cappuccinos I brought them.

The first night was taco night at the Blue Eyed Daisy and I brought them one of each—chicken, beef, pork, fish and veggie—for dinner. On the next night, they asked if I’d just bring them each a big plate of fish tacos.

I created the fish taco recipe two years ago when taco night at the Daisy began to lose its juju—and I still crave them to this day. Inspired by the fish tacos at Taqueria del Sol in Atlanta, these are made from tilapia that’s been dipped in buttermilk, rolled in cornmeal, fried in vegetable oil and served in a griddled corn tortilla—perfect for people who have gluten or peanut allergies.

Many people have told me they’re the best fish tacos they’ve ever had and I tend to agree. It’s amazing what a little cornmeal and buttermilk can do to fish. Some prefer using milk, but buttermilk gives it a deeper, richer flavor. And cornmeal gives it an extra crunch that goes well with the pickled jalapenos on top.

Fish Tacos

½ pound tilapia, cut into strips

½ cup buttermilk

1 cup white cornmeal

Salt

Vegetable oil for frying

Corn tortillas

Chopped cilantro and pickled jalapeños for garnish.

Place buttermilk in a bowl and cornmeal in a dish. Sprinkle some salt in cornmeal and mix.

Pour oil into a cast iron skillet, about 1 inch deep. Place pan on stove and turn heat to medium to heat oil. Have a cookie sheet with paper towels to drain fish on.

When oil hot, dip fish strips into buttermilk then cornmeal. Shake off excess. Place fish into hot oil and fry until crispy. Remove with tongs and place on paper towel to absorb extra oil.

In another heated skillet or hot oven, heat corn tortillas.

Cilantro-Jalapeno Tartar Sauce

½ cup mayonnaise

½ cup sour cream

2 tablespoons cilantro,chopped

1 ¼ tablespoon pickled jalapeños , chopped

¾ teaspooon salt

Place all ingredients in a bowl and mix.

To assemble:

Place warm tortilla on plate. Put 2-3 strips of fish on tortilla. Spoon tartar sauce over and garnish with cilantro and pickled jalapeños.

We’ve had three farm managers since Serenbe Farms began. Daron Joffe, known as Farmer D, helped us get the foundation in, then went on to create an organic farming business in Atlanta that includes products, consulting and a retail store.

Paige Witherington came to work for Farmer D and took over as farm manager when he left. She spent 8 years literally growing Serenbe Farms from the ground up and recommended one person to take her place when she recently gave notice. That was Ashley Rodgers, who was Paige’s farm intern for a few years before working at nearby Planted Rock Farm.

Ashley may be 27 years old, 5’1 and weigh all of 90 pounds, but dear God she’s a powerhouse. She came in like a tornado—a really good tornado.

I love so many things about Ashley: She’s a Michigan native who didn’t grow up around farming, but fell in love with food while working in restaurants at the College of Charleston. She’s OCD, which I adore, especially in a farmer. She sees a project and gets it done in a day. In addition to her vast knowledge of farming, Ashley understands the aesthetics of farming, which is rare. She’s transforming the area where people pick up their CSA bundles because she wants them to be pretty. She covered an ugly walk-in cooler with palettes and now it’s gorgeous. She put a big beautiful painted sunflower sculpture I bought years ago at the Atlanta Botanical Garden years ago on a post in the farm.

Someone recently asked me what it takes to run a farm and I answered that I honestly have no idea. So I asked Ashley, and here’s what she said:

It takes a lot of energy, determination, organization, a strong back and a love of food to run a farm. When farming a few acres, things grow so quickly that managing and keeping everything alive and healthy takes a lot of time, patience and just pure hard physical work.  

I love farming because I get to learn and attain many different skills, from marketing and business to managing employees, plumbing/irrigation, botany, agriculture, fixing equipment, and building tables and other infrastructure. It keeps you on your toes, so you certainly need to be able to roll with the punches, and always be ready for the next challenge that awaits.

Most of all I love Ashley’s passion—it’s contagious. She recently told a friend of mine she couldn’t sleep because she was so excited about all the great things happening at the farm. Not because she was worried—a more traditional farmer trait—but because she was excited. I feel that excitement, and so do her interns, the CSA members and, I believe, every little seedling in the field.

May Day, in one form or another, pre-dates Christianity. It has meant many things to many different cultures over the years, but at Serenbe it’s the way we celebrate nature and all its beauty and magic in the spring. Serenbe hosts so many wonderful events all year long, but early on we made May Day our signature festival because it’s so historically beloved in agrarian societies. I remember seeing one of the legendary Gee’s Bend quilts, which was made with a May Day theme—the quilt maker said May Day was her happiest childhood memory because it was one of the only days her family didn’t work on their farm May Day was a popular event during my mother’s childhood as well. She was even crowned the queen of May Day in her hometown of Columbus, Georgia, many years ago. We don’t crown kings and queens at Serenbe’s May Day, but we do have the traditional may pole. This Sunday we’ll shut down the main street in the Selborne neighborhood for a huge street festival with everything from glass blowers, live statues, hot air balloon rides and dunk tanks to live music, street performers and food for days. Years ago, I worked the booth for The Farmhouse and made shrimp and grits to order. It was an unholy nightmare – I couldn’t keep up. This year I’ll be out and about, sampling food from the ScoutMob tasting tent and food trucks like King of Pops, Happy Belly, Philly Connection, Grazing Here, SweetWater Brewery and Tex’s Tacos. I may even have to hop on the bell cycle—a bicycle with 20 bells on it—to work some of it off and make some joyous noise. Join me this Sunday. May Day at Serenbe is a great time to bring back some wonderful childhood memories or create new ones. 1-4 p.m. Sunday, May 4 at Serenbe

There are two musicians I will always see when they come to Atlanta: One is violinist Joshua Bell and the other is Yo-Yo Ma, the greatest cellist in the world. A few weeks ago, Ma performed at the Atlanta Symphony Hall and a friend and I treated ourselves to a night on the town, starting with dinner at Bacchanalia.

Days later, when I was telling another friend about that night, I went on and on about Yo-Yo Ma—his pure spirit, his wild energy, his gracious nature. I told her about his two incredible encores, including the prelude from Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1—considered the quintessential cello piece—and how those of us in the audience who know it audibly gasped when he struck the first note.

Then she asked me a very important question: What did you feel when you hear his music? The next thing I knew I had tears in my eyes.

What I felt was joy. Listening to him play, my soul was being fed. Earlier in the evening, my body was fed by food that’s on par with the best restaurants in the world.

It reminded me how important it is to be your best, whatever your best is. Bacchanalia is the best fine dining in Atlanta and Yo-Yo Ma is the best cellist in the world—both the individual and the institution exude an undeniable passion. Experiencing both in one night filled me with pure inspiration and reaffirmed my belief that, whether your passion is playing tennis or making bread, go all in and be your best, whatever your best is.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dZn_VBgkPNY

When Nathalie Dupree and I get in the kitchen together, it’s pure laughter. The woman is just a force to be reckoned with: She taught cooking for decades, has been featured in The New York Times and is the founding chairman of the Charleston Food and Wine Festival. Years ago, Julia—as in Julia Child—suggested that Nathalie should write a book on Southern cooking. She now has 15 of them to her name, two of which have won James Beard Awards.

Nathalie has so many different titles and awards, but when it comes to me she’s just a big mother hen. She knew my mother well and feels proprietary about me, but also loves to tease me—especially about the fact that I don’t allow microwaves in my home.

Only Julia Child has done more cooking shows on TV than my dear friend, Nathalie Dupree.

She’s like a favorite aunt—the kind who comes and takes you out for an adventure, which we certainly had during her recent visit for the Southern Chefs Series. She did a butterflied leg of lamb with Dijon mustard, rosemary, ginger, garlic and soy sauce from her book New Southern Cooking. People who don’t normally like lamb loved this dish. And the best part is that it’s easily replicated at home—and perfect for Easter.

Next up in the Southern Chefs Series: Chef Ford Fry, May 18-19. Call 770.463.2610 to register.

Butterflied Leg of Lamb

From New Southern Cooking by Nathalie Dupree

These days, butterflied (boned) legs of lamb are available at the supermarket.  Usually they come in an elastic web, which should be removed.  Open up the lamb and spread out to roughly resemble a butterfly.

Marinade:

8 ounces Dijon Mustard
2 tablespoons rosemary, chopped or crumbled roughly
2 tablespoons fresh ginger, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
3 tablespoons soy sauce
3 tablespoons peanut or other oil
1 whole leg of lamb, bones removed, about 5 pounds before boning

Mix together the mustard, rosemary, ginger, garlic, soy sauce and peanut oil . Smear over the lamb, on both sides, and marinate in a plastic bag in the refrigerator.

When ready to cook, prepare a grill or the broiler. Remove the lamb from the bag, with the marinade, and cook on the hot grill or under the broiler 15 minutes on each side. Test for doneness. (I prefer my lamb rare.)  The lamb should be dark brown or black around the edges, rare inside. Don’t worry if the marinade burns…the meat will still be delicious.