Recycled Grits and Cane Syrup

Another beautiful morning and time to fry up some leftover grits!

I did a post on fried grits last year but I can't resist talking about these grits. These were a gift from Claui's folks and they may be the Platonic ideal of grits. One catch -- you have to cook them forty-five minutes -- not ideal for breakfast.

So I made shrimp and grits for supper -- and when making shrimp and grits, one embellishes and enriches the cooking grits with butter, light cream, and as much cheese as one dares. I used a particularly tasty extra-sharp Vermont white cheddar.

But I'm not here to talk about shrimp and grits. It's the leftover grits I'm here to praise. Poured in a pan and refrigerated overnight, they congeal nicely so that they can be lifted from the pan in tidy squares to be floured, egged, and fried.

Sausage is a nice accompaniment. And I dump in the leftover egg (which contains Tobasco and seasoned salt --Jane's Krazy Salt, to be precise.)

The presentation isn't elegant but, oh my, it's tasty. And in a nod to John's and my Florida Cracker heritage, I've got a bottle of cane syrup on the table.

Our grandparents would have poured syrup over the whole mess -- too sweet for our tastes. But I do save my last bite of grits and douse it with the delicious cane syrup -- a mini-dessert at breakfast.

The cane syrup was a gift from my brother and I am enchanted by the label he put on it: "Claimed to be pure cane syrup squeezed by a man and mule operation in Two Egg, Florida."

The perfect way to start a day!

UPDATE!!! Follow this link for some great recipes and to find out the difference between hominy grits and stone-ground.

UPDATED UPDATE_
(Vagabonde has pointed out that these recipes are full of typos -- here's ANOTHER LINK
to the place the grits came from and some more recipes -- maybe more usable.)

Leftover Grits and Other Matters

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So, this is what you do with leftover grits -- pour them into a loaf pan or some such container and stick them in the fridge. In the morning, slice up the congealed grits, dip them in beaten egg, and fry in butter or bacon grease. Oh boy. If you just happen to have some leftover andouille sausage, invite it to the party.

Not health food, no, but food for the soul.

I bothered the mama hen again, getting a picture of her snug little apartment and two of her chicks. There are two more hiding beneath her, making for a grand total of four! With any luck, there'll be one or two hens in the bunch (if they live, as the old folks would say in a pre-emptive strike at Fate.)

And here, Carol, is the first of my tomatoes -- about the size of the end of my little finger. We have a ways to go.

I have a few volunteer purple potato plants, left from some potatoes that didn't get harvested last year. They are not only blooming, they are also setting fruit.
















No, these little green things here below aren't tomatoes. They are potato seeds -- something I've never paid much attention to as we always use sets -- chunks cut from sprouting potatoes.

There's a family resemblance as potatoes and tomatoes ( along with eggplants and peppers) are all members of the nightshade family Solanaceae. (As are tobacco, belladonna, jimson weed, and several other noxious plants.) All are native to the New World -- what did the Italians do before they had tomatoes in their cuisine? Imagine the Irish without potatoes! Or the English or the Germans for that matter.