P‘minnuh Cheese
When I was eight or nine years old, I “invented” a sandwich that I called a “cheese, pickle and mayonnaise” sandwich, as an alternative to peanut butter and jelly.
You can guess the recipe.
I stopped eating that sandwich about the same time I stopped eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (although the mere mention of PB&J has me craving one right now) and graduated to more robust, less snacklike fare, but in its components I found a burgeoning love for pimiento cheese that I didn’t know I had until years later, when I found myself trying it for the first time as an appetizer at a Jim & Nick’s barbecue restaurant. Not from lack of exposure, mind you: every church potluck, every family reunion, scores of friends refrigerators over the years provided an opportunity to try it, and I passed it up each time.
Why? The young version of me was scared of pimientos (which leads to the inevitable question: why scared of pimientos? A combination of fear of cocktail olives which look like candy and taste like a surprise ball of salt, and a fear of peppers brought on from a rough afternoon with an ornamental pepper plant as a wee tyke) and the old version of me could not fathom the combination of cheese and mayonnaise as appetizing (in clear spite of my earlier sandwich invention,) because I was a snob.
Back to the point. When you don’t come from a tradition where pimiento cheese is a staple, a comfort, it can actually be a revelation. Here’s a powerful shot of umami, salt, a hint of sourness, just a breath of heat (in my version, anyway). It takes everything good about cheddar cheese, and makes it easy to spread on a cracker or piece of celery without turning it into some weird chemical thing.
With my first bite, I realized that I’d spent many years missing out on something fantastic because of fear that it would be gross—and it IS gross, but when it comes down to it, what great food isn’t?
So it comes to this: Pimiento cheese—the oft-maligned hallmark of southern cuisine—should be something you make regularly and use creatively. In deviled eggs. Mixed into grits. Spread on a hamburger. As an omelette filling (with, say, leftover grilled asparagus.) With sliced roma tomatoes.
You can find recipes all over the place (here are three from the Southern Foodways Alliance, always a good starting point) but I’m sure my own is every bit as good; if ever-so-slightly more indulgent.
Pimiento Cheese
* 1 lb white vermont cheddar cheese, shredded
* 3/4 cup mayonnaise
* 1 jar diced pimientos, with liquid
* 1/2 tsp black pepper
* 1 healthy shake Worcestershire sauce (call it a teaspoon)
* 1 slightly-less-healthy shake Tabasco sauce (maybe half a teaspoon)
Mix everything together. Add a little more mayonnaise if it’s not the consistency you like. Like many things, it’s better the next day, and should keep for a week in the fridge.
