James Villas

Many thanks for your praise of BETWEEN BITES, though I thought my ending to the memoirs was pretty upbeat and optimistic--to an extent. If, however, my overall view of the contemporary American culinary scene seems dispiriting, it's because I do find most of that scene, indeed, to be just plain dispiriting. All you have to do to see what's going on in America today is to watch that TV program with Rocco Dispirito called "The Restaurant" and witness all the buffoonery: the appalling ways people dress in restaurants today, the obligatory noise, the sloppy service and silly food--it's like one big playpen. And what's sad is that much of this insanity and obsession with celebrity chefs translates into what goes into food magazines, newspapers, and, ultimately, reaches the home kitchen. Would I like to see chefs shoved back into thier hot kitchens and a renewed public interest in authentic regional foods, well-defined ethnic styles of cooking, and more intelligent, civilized dining habits? You're damned right I would. Do I believe that fusion cooking and all the hype about organic ingredients is leading to anything really constructive in our culinary culture? No, by no stretch of the imagination. But do I see any modern developments that bode well for the future, you ask? Well of course I do: the incredible variety of decent ingredients in our supermarkets, magazines like Saveur that make for truly adult, sophisticated reading. And chefs like Jasper White, Frank Stitt, Louis Osteen, Lydia Shire, and others of their ilk who really strive to enhance regional cookery and elevate dishes to new levels (and who stay in the kitchen away from the cameras), and millions of a silent majority out there who couldn't care less about cutting-edge, convoluted, phony innovations and are quite happy with a perfect American stew, or casserole, or home-baked pie. But now you've gotten me back on my bandwagon--and if I've learned nothing else in the infantile society that worships glitz and celebrity over substance and integrity, I've learnied that it does no good to rant and rave. Everything will just have to play itself out--I pray.

In my next book, STALKING THE GREEN FAIRY, I have an entire chapter on grits, but in the meantime, all I can say is that you have your work cut out for you unless you happen to live in the South. The most glorious grits are stone- or water-ground, but they're rare as hens' teeth--even in the South. (Two mail-order sources: Morgan Mill, Brevard, N.C. (828) 862-4084, and Hoppin' John's On-line in Charleston, S.C., 1-800-828-4412, www.hoppinjohns.com). The most available product in the South is "Jim Dandy," produced by Martha White in Tennessee in both the "quick" and "instant" varieties. Don't even think about buying "instant" grits--absolute mush. "Quick" grits are fine if you can't find stone-ground, but disregard the package directions of boiling them for 5 minutes--they need a good thirty minutes, with frequent stirring. You really can't over cook grits, and the longer you boil and stir, the creamier they get. Stone-ground grits take up to an hour of slow boiling and stirring, and if you really want them creamy, boil them in hand-and-half instead of water. In any case, all grits must be salted unless you want them to be, well, insipid at best. So, if you're on a salt-free diet, forget all about cooking and eating grits. And be sure to serve them with plenty of butter melted over the top. Just the thought of it pulls my heart right back to North Carolina into Mother's kitchen. Pure heaven.

Yes, historically rye was indeed the whiskey used in the original Manhattan. Daddy always preferred rye for his Manhattans (at home and at the Astor Bar in New York City). Today, however, I much prefer a superior Bourbon since I find the taste so much more complex and subtle (rye can be harsh), and, as I've said, my ideal is JD sour mash. Mother still prefers her Manhattans with Four roses, so the old tradition is still alive and well.

I can absolutely clear this up for you. You're right. Mother did take me to task for fooling with her recipe. However I am much more flexible and liberal than mother--well, truthfully not that much. About the only thing I would add now is green olives. In fact, the way that happened is I wanted to make P.C. and I didn't have a jar of plain pimentos, so I just separated the pimentos, chopped up the olives and threw them in. My steadfast rule--never use salt. There is plenty of sodium in Hellman's. I wrote the "P.C." article and submitted with a few different recipes because they asked me to. They merely picked the "purist" recipe for their own reasons. Lucky for you (and everyone who loves pimento cheese), these recipes will be included in an entire chapter on P.C. in my new book STALKING THE GREEN FAIRY, which will publish in the spring. I adore P.C. and I always have a jar in my refrigerator. Here are some ideas for preparing and serving and storing. Make fresh mayonnaise and use that instead of prepared, it is the ultimate in P.C., and is they way Mother always made it for us. No time? Stuff celery sticks for a quick canape. Sublime: Make a grilled "cheese" sandwich on white bread Divine: Spread it on an English muffin and put a slice of ham. Glaze it under the broiler. Add poached eggs for a mock eggs Benedict. Make small batches. It can keep for up to a week, and then after that it loses it's savor (and can turn an eerie shade of green).

You simply must read BETWEEN BITES--as I've said--it is the one that has my heart in it the most. JD & Maker's Mark: There is a big, big difference between the two and it is an important one. Many people call JD "bourbon" even though it doesn't say it on the bottle. By Kentucky law it does not stick to the rules of proper bourbon because it is leached through charcoal and that process disqualifies JD. However, it is that process that gives it, in my opinion, a much smokier and sweeter flavor than Makers Mark--which gives it the perfect qualities for the perfect Manhattan. I want to emphasize that I think MM is legitimate, superior bourbon that should be sipped and savored. BTW, whisky from Scotland is smoked over peat--and is never spelled with an "e"--and is also something I prefer for someone other than myself to drink. I consider Anne Willan's book to one of the best books ever on the subject--until mine was published. Thank you for the suggested publishers. I'm a little baffled about Charles Baker, of whom I have no recollection of at T&C. My predecessor was Bob Simons. Can you clarify for me who this Charles Baker is? I'm sure I'll have many more stories to tell. I plan to answer questions until they stop coming in--I'm having a wonderful time. JV

Many thanks to you for all of your kind words. I do consider the most challenging tome to date to be BETWEEN BITES in both substance and style--but I, of course have affection and respect for all of my books. As to your question about the Manhattan--and I have a very set and distinct opinion about that libation--I would make one modification. I insist that the liquor be Jack Daniels, and that it be straight up (especially in restaurants). Not only is the flavor of JD glorious and unique, but I've become sick and tired of being served cocktails with wretched, cheap bar bourbon or blended whiskey. I might add that I can also tell by merely glancing at a waiter's tray whether the proportions in the drink are right. The only thing worse than too little bourbon is too much. Be so bold as to specify your personal preference as to proportions, and you will be rewarded with the earthy, smoky drink that stimulates and caresses the palate. In closing, I must say that I simply cannot tolerate a Manhattan without a cherry--to the extent that I usually bring my own supply. French Country Kitchen. In all modesty, I think this book is the most timeless and classic book on the subject. I have repeatedly tried to get this book back into print. Publishers have a phobia about reprinting cookbooks--especially French cookbooks. I remain on the campaign to revive my work on cuisine bourgeoise (in all provinces) that is still unchallenged in it's content. Maybe you have some brilliant idea for getting it back on the shelves? I think this book should be as useful and vaild 50 years from now as today--but of course no one can use it unless it physically exists. I'm not one for grass roots politics (being a North Carolinan and of a certain generation), but if you fine people could put the word out, maybe some publisher will rally to the cause to preserve my book.

I'd be happy to address any questions you have regarding my cookbooks or my knowledge of food and cooking, restaurants, opera, etc. In fact, I'm well know for giving my opinion on just about anything, even when it's not requested.

There are actually two particular meals that I had at Le Pavillion that stand out in my mind. The first was as a child when Daddy brought the whole family to the restaurant and Chef Henri Soule came to the table to greet us (he knew my father well), and recommended we order the Poulard au Champagne (chicken with champagne sauce.) The waiter appeared with a plate that had an outrageous woven basket of asparagus in which nestled the chicken, and was surrounded by perfectly turned potatoes. He heated up the sauce in a chafing dish tableside and sauced the dish for me with much ceremony--at least it certainly seemed so to my young standards. For dessert, he recommended we order the soufflé with the famous French pear infused brandy with (Daddy was aghast at the price—so expensive!) a $10 bottle of fine French champagne. The second (on page 13 of my book, Between Bites) is a dinner I had with Lucius Beebe before sailing to France on the Queen Elizabeth. We had clear turtle soup, smoked eel, pheasant with truffle sauce, pear brandy soufflé (why not again?), and Krug champagne. As we savored this feast, he proffered this sage advice: "My dear young man," he said, "you'll learn more aboard that liner than you'll learn in a year at any university." And he was absolutely right.

First of all, I'd just like to apologize for the lateness of this response due to the blackout. Go to most barbecue houses in South Carolinas, and you'll indeed find sauces with vinegar, ketchup, Worcestershire, and indeed, mustard. NEVER would you find mustard in a North Carolina BBQ sauce--I would be barbecued myself in Goldsboro, Kinston, Lexington, andn any other N.C. city. By "authentic," I meant the N.C. method of cooking and serving the pork, but no, this particular sauce I decided to use at the time (I'm constantly changing the ingredients) would decidedly not be a N.C. style. Generally, I consider a food to be "authentic" only if it is prepared and eaten the way locals do, and while my Carolina barbecue does taste exactly like what you find in N.C., this particular sauce is not authentic in the strictest sense of the work. Remove the mustard, and you have a legitmate Wester (Lexington-style) N.C. sauce. Remove the ketchup, and you have a genuine eastern N.C. sauce. I change the sauce recipe almost every time I do barbecue and will never decide on which is best. The one in the book is damn good, however--despite the mustard and ketchup. Yes, yes , yes, of course you plop a spoonful of slaw on any N.C.-style barbecue sandwich--and the less complicated the better. As with the BBQ sauce, I never make the slaw the exact same way--nor measure any of the ingredients. I made a batch Sunday night and used maybe 2-3 cups shredded cabbage (not the green leaves), a little shredded carrot, a sprinkling of celery seends, about 1 tsp cider vinegar, a touch of sugar, Hellman's mayo and pepper (no salt needed with mayo). Sometimes I might add a few minced scallions, but nothing else. Delicious. Any leftover keeps in a plastic carton about 5 days, but is does sweat lots of liquid. The is truly nothing like fresh cole slaw.