Santa Rosa Sunshine

I’m desperately trying to re-adapt to the real world after a week on Santa Rosa Island (Pensacola, Florida). It isn’t easy, let me tell you.

My family has spent a week at the same condo (Soundside) for the last 13 years. It’s now like a 2nd home to us. We see many of the same people every year and seeing each other only once a year gives us plenty to talk about.

We look forward to this week “on the island” all year long. We'll usually walk across the street to the Gulf one or two days, we visit the local restaurants (Peg Leg Pete’s is our absolute favorite and Flounders is good, too), and, of course, we do some souvenir shopping. However, Ryan and Nicholas can enjoy the entire week without ever leaving the property. They spend hours (and hours!) fishing and crabbing off the long pier; they enjoy the swimming pool, too.

This year, the boys caught a good many crab the first night and one of our “yearly” friends, Wild Bill, cooked them along with the fish they had caught. It was a delicious impromptu dinner.

We also went shark fishing with Wild Bill and his family. Just after dark, we set-up camp on the Gulf-side. Bill and Ryan would wade into the surf, cast the line, then walk the poles back to the beach. Then it was time to sit and talk and wait for a bite. I was a little concerned about allowing my 15-year-old to walk into the water when they were desperately trying to bait shark, but I let him go anyway. This night, there was obviously no need to worry because they didn’t get a single bite. I didn’t know wether to be disappointed or relieved.

On Tuesday, Brenda cooked a delightful breakfast for all of us staying at the resort. Around 9 am we gathered in the lobby where she had a table piled high with eggs, pastries, fruit, and her famous Nassau Grits. All the food was really good, but the Nassau Grits were outstanding. So, of course, I asked her for the recipe. After we discussed cooking and cookbooks for a while, she reached behind the counter and handed me a copy of the recipe (obviously I was not the first to ask for it). She did, however, share with me the changes she made and the shortcuts she takes, so now we have the even-better recipe for Nassau Grits.


Brenda suggested that, in addition to breakfast, the grits were really good with fried fish. So, when I got home, I pulled out my favorite recipe for fried catfish and my favorite recipe for hushpuppies (both Harold Webster’s recipes as featured in our Game for All Seasons Cookbook) and we had a feast. Brenda was definitely telling the truth; Nassau Grits are a great side dish to fried fish. Try it, I’m sure you’ll love it too.


Recipes:
Nassau Grits
Deep-Fried Louisiana-Style Thin-Sliced Catfish
Pappy's Hushpuppies (I cut the recipe to 1/4 for my family)
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Sheila Simmons is Publisher at Great American Cookbooks and co-author with Kent Whitaker of the Hometown Cookbook Series

Bicycles, Honeysuckle, and Supper

Do you remember Honeysuckle? I do, but until yesterday I had not thought about it in years. Roger, Ryan, Nicholas and I were enjoying a late-evening bicycle ride down the “main” (they are all country roads where we live) road beside the house. It was a warm, but not too hot, 70 degrees with a light wind – perfect for a bicycle ride.

As man of the house, Roger was out in front and yelled back with “can you smell that?” Just as I was about to ask “what,” I caught the scent, too. That aroma of honeysuckle growing beside the road brought back many, many memories at once.

I can remember being just about my youngest son’s age (Nicholas is 8) and riding my bicycle down the gravel roads around my house. I was always barefooted wearing shorts and a t-shirt and more often than not at least one of my many first cousins was riding along with me. We’d take frequent breaks to sit along the side of the road in the shade of the big trees, and, of course, taste the honeysuckle. I don’t think I’ve had a single gourmet meal in my adulthood that tasted as good as that honeysuckle did when I was eight years old.

Back in the present, Roger and Ryan had ridden ahead in a competition to see who could ride fastest. Nicholas and I were riding slow and easy, enjoying the weather, and talking about our day. Nic suddenly pulled off, dropped his bicycle in the grass, and asked, “Have you ever tried these, Momma?” as he reaches a honeysuckle bush beside the road.

It makes me happy to know that a new generation is enjoying the small pleasure of honeysuckle. So, we sat, Mother and son, in the shade of the big trees beside the road and tasted honeysuckle. I noticed that Nicholas would pick the delicate flower, break off the bottom, and suck the nectar as through a straw. This is, of course, a legitimate way to taste honeysuckle.

However, I earned a few “mommy points” by showing him the way I learned as a child. You pick the flower and gently break off the bottom keeping the little stem in the center intact. You then gently pull that stem out the bottom and the “ball” at the top brings the nectar through. When you gently touch this to your tongue, it’s honeysuckle heaven.

If you don’t know the pure and simple pleasure of honeysuckle, it’s not too late. Take your kids or grandkids (or a neighbor’s kid if you have to) on a bicycle ride (or a walk or even a car ride), locate some honeysuckle, and take time to sit beside the road and taste the sweet nectar. You won’t regret it.

We spent so much time on our bicycle ride, that I had to do a quick supper when we returned to the house. I had some catfish fillets in the freezer, so I thawed them quickly and made this Hot and Sweet Baked Catfish. We enjoyed it over rice, with corn nuggets (most of which the kids, mine and three or four neighbor boys, ate right out of the bowl while everything else was cooking), and Okra & Tomatoes (frozen, sliced okra with a can of petite-dice tomatoes, a touch of sugar, and a little thyme... and a little time). It was delightful follow-up to an enjoyable evening.

Sheila Simmons, Publisher • Great American Cookbooks • Visit our database for more great recipes. • Submit YOUR recipe to be considered for publication.