It was 22 degrees on the day of my first deer hunt, so I wore my mink and an orange safety vest. My motto is: Do everything with style, especially your own. And that includes deer hunting.

Of course I had to bring refreshments as well, and I’m glad I did. My friend Kent and I sat in a grove of trees for an hour and a half, watching, whispering and drinking my homemade hot chocolate with shots of Belle Meade Bourbon on the side. Being warmed from the inside is just as important as being warm on the outside.

Then a deer appeared. And before Kent shot it, I remembered something Chris Hastings, chef/owner of the Hot and Hot Fish Club in Birmingham, said when he visited for the Southern Chefs Series. He said he approaches animals with reverence and shoots for sustenance, not for sport. So I said a prayer for the spirit of the deer, thanking it for what it would give us.

Kent dressed the deer and we headed back to the truck: Him with a carcass and me with my picnic basket full of cold-weather cocktails.

Marie’s Hot Chocolate 

Serves 4-6

4 cups whole milk
1 cup Ghirardelli 60% cacao chips
2-4 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Pinch or two of cayenne
Pinch of kosher salt

Place milk, cacao chips and sugar in a saucepan and heat to medium until chips are melted and milk is hot. Remove and add remaining ingredients. Stir well.

In the South, you’re either a cake person or a pie person.

As I’m not a fan of fruit fillings, I side with the cake people. But Thursday is National Pie Day, so I’m sharing my Chocolate Bourbon Pecan Pie, a recipe that was first published when I was 16.

My mother’s family was from Columbus, Georgia, and everyone left but my Aunt Sarah, who became one of the grand dames of the town. She ran a restaurant, was the food editor of the Columbus Ledger-Enquirer and didn’t know a damn thing about cooking.

Sarah’s two sisters lived in Atlanta, and on one of her visits I made this version of Hoosier Pie, which brings in two very Southern ingredients: bourbon and pecans.  She was so impressed, she went home, wrote a story about it and published my recipe.

This pie is a staple on the dessert menu at The Farmhouse. The only time we take it off is when we do our chocolate cake—my favorite cake in the world. The texture can only be described as “oh my God.” And you have to eat it immediately because it becomes a completely different cake the next day. That’s no problem at all.

Chocolate Bourbon Pecan Pie

1 cup dark Karo syrup
¾ cup sugar
¼ teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons butter
3 eggs
1 cup pecan pieces, toasted
¼ cup semi sweet chocolate chips
¼ cup bourbon
1 unbaked pie shell

Combine the Karo syrup, sugar and salt in a heavy saucepan. Bring to a rolling bowl, stirring steadily, for two minutes. Remove from heat and add 3 tablespoons butter.

Beat eggs in a separate bowl. Pour in hot syrup mixture slowly and beat with a wire whisk.

Add the toasted pecan pieces, chocolate chips and bourbon and mix together. Pour into an unbaked pie shell and bake for 45-50, until filling is firm. Cool before cutting.

When people write stories about me, they inevitably ask for a photo of my mother and I cooking together. And though we spent my childhood in the kitchen, no one ever stopped stirring long enough to take a picture.

But thanks to this month’s issue of Atlanta Homes & Lifestyles, I can now say I have photos of me with the second most important food mentor in my life: Father Austin Ford.

A well-known Episcopalian minister and civil rights activist, Father Ford started Emmaus House, a community center in the Peoplestown neighborhood of Atlanta. I volunteered to run his summer program for underprivileged children and we started a funky friendship that’s lasted 28 years.

Father Ford an utterly fascinating human being. He’s a biblical scholar. A classical scholar. He has a vast knowledge of literature, poetry and history. He’s the only person I know with starched linen sheets. He hosts an annual Christmas Eve dinner after which we retire to the living room, have hot chocolate, hold hands, sing Christmas carols and are not allowed to leave until the stroke of midnight. And he heats his house with coal.

Coal!

I have learned so much about food, French service and the correct way to eat with a fork and spoon from Father Ford. He makes the best sautéed red cabbage, scrambled eggs and gumbo I’ve ever had. So for the article, we cooked his gumbo for a dinner party with Steve and the girls.

When I met Father Ford, I was 26 and he was 56. Today there’s a little less tread on our tires, but he still knows his way around the kitchen. His gumbo is so much like our friendship: It takes a long time to make, is full of deep, rich flavors, nourishes the soul and sticks with you long after you’re done eating.

Photos courtesy of Ali Harper Photography 2014.

Father Ford’s Gumbo
Serves 10
1 ½ cups vegetable oil
1 ½ cups all-purpose flour
4 cups chopped onion
1 cup chopped green bell pepper
½ cup chopped scallion
½ cup chopped fresh parsley
2 teaspoons minced garlic
1 16-ounce can tomatoes, with juice
1 8-inch piece Polish or Andouille sausage, sliced
4 thin smoked pork chops, cubed
1/8 teaspoon each ground allspice, cloves, mace, coriander and cardamom
3 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons salt
1 teaspoon cayenne pepper
Juice of 2 lemons
1 gallon water
4 pounds fresh okra, sliced
2 pounds peeled and deveined shrimp
½ pound crabmeat

Cook vegetable oil and all-purpose flour together in a heavy cast-iron skillet. Transfer to a 2-gallon pot and add everything but the seafood. Simmer for one hour then add the seafood. Serve over rice.

Cast Iron Chef: Marie served Farmhouse Chicken and Hominy Stew to guests at the 13th annual Afternoon in the Country.

Sunday, November third was one of those exquisitely beautiful fall days when you just fall in love with everything. And it was the perfect day for Serenbe to host the 13^th annual Afternoon in the Country, benefitting the Atlanta chapter of Les Dames d’Escoffier International.

It was also a blur. And of all the wonderful chefs, restaurants, shops, farms and distributors that brought food, I had time to eat two things: Miller Union chef Steven Satterfield’s roasted butternut squash with fried quail egg and Gunshow chef Kevin Gillespie’s “off Sunday sandwich,” a fabulous play on a Chick-Fil-A chicken sandwich.

Of course I also tasted my own dish: Farmhouse chicken and hominy stew. I was inspired to create it after reading a Wall Street Journal article on hominy. I love it and think it’s an amazing side dish, though it’s a Southern ingredient people don’t use very much anymore.

More than 900 people came out to support the Atlanta chapter of Les Dames d’Escoffier International

So I started thinking about what I could do with it for Les Dames and came up with hominy stew with chicken confit, sautéed red pepper, scallions, Serenbe Farms braised cabbage and a Belle Meade Bourbon cream sauce with a little paprika sprinkled on top.

I know this sounds crazy, but I like to experiment with a new dish every year. I don’t even test it before I put it out for 900 people. I just like to wing it and somehow it always works.

FARMHOUSE CHICKEN AND HOMINY STEW

6 boneless,skinless chicken breast
8 tablespoons butter
3 cups napa cabbage,chopped
1 cup carrots, peeled and julienned
1/2 cup green onions, chopped
1 29 oz can hominy
1/2 cup bourbon
2 cup heavy cream
2 tsp Dijon mustard
Kosher salt and pepper

Put hominy with juice in a small pan and place on low heat to heat through while preparing vegetables and chicken.

Heat another small skillet. Add bourbon and very carefully ignite with a match to flame. Allow flame to subside, then add cream. Cook on low and sauce will thicken as cooking remainder of ingredients.
As nearing finish time on vegetables, add Dijon mustard and readjust seasoning to taste.

Melt 4 tablespoons butter in a large cast iron skillet. Salt and pepper the chicken breasts. Sauté the breasts in the butter 4-6 min each side. Remove from skillet and place in a pan and keep warm in low degree oven- 200.

And remaining butter and melt. Add cabbage and carrots and sauté until softened. add green onions and sauté additional 2-3 min. Season with salt and pepper.

To assemble:
Drain hominy and add to vegetables.Remove chicken from oven and cut into strips. Add to vegetables. Mix bourbon cream sauce into chicken and vegetable mixture.

Serve in bowls.

Instead of chopping down a tree, we make one out of lights with a wooden star on top and share stories about the season.

On Thanksgiving Day, we served turkey with black pepper molasses butter, cornbread dressing and chocolate pecan bourbon pie to more than 450 people at The Farmhouse.

On the Sunday night after, we did our annual tree lighting where Serenbe residents sing holiday carols and residents talk about what the season means to them.

Then the following Friday, Saturday and Sunday we hosted the Serenbe Holiday Bazaar—three days of shopping featuring artisans from all over the Southeast.

We have so many wonderful holiday traditions at Serenbe; I love the way they bring us closer as a community. And on Christmas day, I’ll be serving friends and family big bowls of my favorite holiday tradition of all: My mother’s seafood soup.

I get my love of soup from my mother; she made it a lot. But this recipe was her signature soup and she only made it at home, not Mary Mac’s, which I always call her other home. If people received invites to my mother’s parties, they’d say, “You are going to make your seafood soup, aren’t you, Margaret?”

It started as a leek and potato soup and you knew you were special if she made it for you. It was so wonderful that when my grandmother was dying she asked my mother to make it … and it was her last meal.

After that, mother dressed it up by adding scallops, shrimp and crabmeat. My Christmas Day menu changes every year, but my mother’s seafood soup is always on the menu. It brings me closer to the people who are here, and the ones who aren’t here anymore.

SEAFOOD SOUP

• Bring to a boil in heavy Dutch Oven:
• 5 cups chicken stock or canned chicken broth
• 6 tablespoons butter
• 1 teaspoon of salt
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground white pepper
• 2 dashes Tabasco sauce
• 2 dashes Worcestershire sauce

Add:

• 1 bunch (about 12-ounces) well-washed fresh leeks (all but browned leaves), chopped
• 1 bunch scallions, chopped
• 2 large garlic cloves, minced fine

Simmer for 30 minutes and add:

• 3 large Idaho potatoes (about 1 1/2 pounds), peeled and diced

Simmer for another 30 minutes. Mash potatoes and onion mixture in stock thoroughly with potato masher.

Add:

• 4 cups of milk
• 2 cups of heavy cream

Taste and season. This should be thick, heavy, creamy soup.  If too thick, thin with milk and taste for seasonings.

Add:

• 2 cups of cooked crabmeat, shrimp or scallops.

Simmer soup for 5 minutes.

My dad cooked three things: popcorn, coleslaw and boiled peanuts. He was married to a wonderful cook who had her own restaurant, so he never had to make anything else.

Dad and me on a family trip to Hawaii, 1976

Dad was a produce salesman—that’s how he and my mother met—and eventually he bought all the produce for her at Mary Mac’s. He goes to the Georgia State farmer’s market where all the huge produce wholesale warehouses were, then visits “The Row,” or the rows of individual farmers’ stalls that were open to the public. If anyone had raw peanuts, he’d bring them home and boil them in a pressure cooker.

When he died in 1982 at the age of 73, mom kept his pressure cooker since it was one of a few things he ever touched in the kitchen. I have it now, but functions as a memento, not a machine.

My favorite photo – me kissing Dad in my childhood home in Atlanta, 1960

I’ve never boiled a peanut in my life and I don’t know anyone who makes them at home. Hugh Acheson has a boiled peanut hummus on his menu at Empire State South. Otherwise, I only see them in big vats on the side of the road in the country, at farmer’s markets, or here at Serenbe in October when we celebrate the Georgia peanut harvest with Super Goober Day.

But if you’ve got raw peanuts, some water and a little time on your hands, the Southern Foodways Alliance Community Cookbook has a recipe from a man named John Martin Taylor. He uses freshly dug Valencia peanuts, which are in season from July to September. According to the cookbook, he says you can start with dried peanuts, “but their magic is lost.”

Dad’s pressure cooker.

Boiled Peanuts

Makes 8 servings

• 3 quarts water
• 3 tablespoons salt
• 3 pounds (8 cups) freshly dug green peanuts in the shell, preferably Valencia

Bring the water and salt to a low boil in a large pot over medium heat. Add the peanuts and cook to your liking, 1 to 2 hours. I like the shell to become soft enough almost to be edible. Let the peanuts sit in the water off the heat until the desired degree of saltiness is reached.

Tyler Brown is a very earthy man. The executive chef of Capitol Grille in Nashville’s legendary Hermitage Hotel has a handlebar mustache, drives a big truck and is one of a handful of chefs who is also a farmer.

It wasn’t always that way: Until a few years ago, when the hotel helped raise funds for the Land Trust for Tennessee, Tyler had only grown three tomato plants in his life. But when he saw photos of Glen Leven, a nearby estate protected by the land trust, he got the itch to give farming another try. Now he grows and harvests produce used in the restaurant at Glen Leven and has also learned how to raise cattle. I like a man who doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty.

Photo by Ron Manville

Tyler was utterly delightful to watch in the kitchen. He had a true tenderness with the guests and created a menu full of real food they could easily cook at home, including roasted ribeye with tomato chutney, Brunswick stew and buttermilk pie. His sweet onion bisque had three ingredients—onions, butter and cream—plus salt and pepper and a lovely little garnish of smoked bacon and crème fraiche. Every last one of us swooned from the first spoonful to the last.

Sweet Onion Bisque

Serves 6

• 4 large Vidalia onions
• 5 tablespoons whole butter
• ½ cup heavy cream

Simmer onions in butter over very low heat for five hours. Add to a blender and puree until smooth, adding heavy cream to taste. Season with salt and pepper. Garnish with smoked bacon and crème fraiche.

This will surprise no one: I own a witch costume.

I haven’t always been a witch. When we lived in the city and the girls were little, we had a great house with a stone porch and I’d host a party so everyone could watch the kids walk by. One year Steve and I were a king and queen. Another year we were a biker family with leather jackets. And I’ll never forget the time we went as farmers and Steve brought a real pig and goat to trick or treat with us. They caused such a stir on the street that we had to take them home.

For the first few years we lived at Serenbe, we didn’t have Halloween because we didn’t have the community around us yet, and I missed it terribly. But when it got going, I convinced the family to dress as characters from Wizard of Oz. Garnie was Dorothy, Kara was a sexy scarecrow, Steve was the wizard (of course) and I was Glenda the good witch.

All we were missing were the flying monkeys.

For the past few years, I’ve set up a big cauldron on my front porch, put on a witch costume and given out candy to the kids. Not apples, granola or raisins—I have never been that mother. I firmly believe that trick or treating is about junk: Snickers, Kit Kats and Three Musketeers. And if there happen to be some peanut M&Ms left over, that’s just fine with me.

This year my schedule got the best of me and I thought I’d waited too long to rent my witchy attire. But when I got to Atlanta Costume, they hadn’t even put the outfit on the floor yet. And I said, really? The dress is still here? I’m buying it.

There’s just something about being a witch that suits me. Decades ago, Southern women cooked meals in big black cauldrons over an open flame. And in that same way, we’re constantly cooking something at Serenbe. Our community cauldron is full of ingredients that complement each other in wonderful ways. I love the whole magical process of food—it’s the energy behind my cooking and what we’ve created at Serenbe.

Photo by Angie Mosier / Fire In My Belly

When most people think of Kevin Gillespie, they think of tattoos, Top Chef and his wonderful Atlanta restaurant, Gunshow. But when I think of Kevin, I think of a teddy bear. He is just so cuddy and precious. For his Southern Chefs Series visit this month, he just walked in—sans apron or knives—and said, “Hey, let’s cook something.”

And did we ever. Kevin brought recipes from his cookbook, Fire In My Belly, and we cooked everything from grilled oyster mushrooms on mascarpone toast with hot giardiniera to his “not your everyday butternut squash soup,” made with cinnamon, pomegranate molasses and masala Punjabi chole curry he gets from the Dekalb Farmers Market in Decatur.

I don’t mind telling you: It was the best butternut squash soup I’ve ever had. It wasn’t creamy, it was chunky and everyone licked the pot clean. It was the first Southern Chefs Series where I didn’t have one—not one!—leftover.

Photo by Rob Brinson Photography

Kevin Gillespie’s Not Your Everyday Butternut Squash Soup

Feeds 8-10 hungry folks

• 2 tall boy-sized butternut squash, about 3 ½ pounds total
• ¼ cup lard or bacon grease
• 1 softball-size onion, cut into ¾-inch dice
• 3 ribs celery, cut into 3/4 –inch dice
• 2 tablespoons salt
• 1 huge carrot, peeled and cut into 3/4 –inch dice
• 2 tablespoons masala Punjabi chole curry
• 1 teaspoon Sumatra ground cinnamon
• 5 ½ cups no-salt chicken stock
• 1 tablespoon sherry vinegar
• 2 teaspoons lemon juice
• 2 tablespoons pomegranate molasses

Trim the ends from the squash and cut in half lengthwise. Scrape out and discard the pulp and seeds and chop the squash into bite-size chunks. You’ll have about 12 cups. And, yes, you leave the skin on.

Melt the lard in a 4-quart Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Layer the vegetables and salt in the pot in the following order: onion first, then celery, then 1 tablespoon of the salt, then the squash, and finally the carrot. Let the mixture cook until the vegetables on the bottom start to brown, about 5 minutes. Then vigorously stir with a wooden spoon, scraping up all the browned bits and stirring them into the mixture. Let cook undisturbed for another 5 minutes, then scrape up the brown bits and stir them into the mixture. Continue cooking and scraping up the brown bits every 5 minutes until the squash is tender, about 15 minutes total. This process creates deep flavor. Don’t rush it!

Stir in the curry and cinnamon to coat the vegetables. Add 4 cups of the stock and bring the mixture to a boil. Cut the heat down so that the liquid simmers and let simmer for 20 minutes, stirring now and then. Stir in the vinegar, lemon juice, the remaining 1 tablespoon salt, and the remaining 11⁄2 cups stock; simmer for another 10 minutes.

Serve in warm bowls and drizzle with some pomegranate molasses.

Photo by Rob Brinson Photography

“This is a chunky, stick-to-your-ribs vegetable soup that’s perfect for a cold winter day. It’s not chile pepper hot, just loaded with spices. I start by dicing butternut squash with the skin on, which adds a rustic texture to the soup and keeps the squash from completely falling apart. I use lard to sauté the squash, onion, celery and carrot so you get a little pork flavor. You could use bacon fat instead. The fat helps to caramelize the vegetables in the pan, creating a deep, savory flavor. The spices are basically warm Indian spices along with some Espelette pepper for heat and pomegranate molasses adds some acidity and sweetness. Look for it in Middle Eastern grocery stores and online. Or make it at home by juicing some pomegranates and boiling the juice until it’s syrupy, like thin honey.”  —From Fire In My Belly