conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a book about Baking, American, FRANCINE with the genre: Cookbooks, Food & Wine, Regional & International?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'Country Cooking from a Redneck Kitchen'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the first five paragraphs for this book?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Country Cooking from a Redneck Kitchen
  Many of you know that I am a proud national pie champion who cherishes every blue (and pink and red...) ribbon I have ever won. But most people don't know that my first foray into the cooking competition circuit, at age sixteen, featured a savory dish—an apricot-stuffed pork loin—that won first place in its category. After that I was hooked and started experimenting with all of the classic Southern recipes I had grown up with. I tweaked and tinkered until I had something that tasted even better than the original—or until I proved that the original was, indeed, the best recipe ever.
  While my friends wanted to be doctors and lawyers when they grew up, I hoped to become Julia Child or June Cleaver. My life revolves around food and always has. I come from a long line of Irish people who hold family in the highest regard. And if you really want to show someone you love them, there's no better way to do so than by cooking for them. That's what I learned from the women in my family. My nana (Mama's mom) put the bee in my cooking bonnet. She taught me how to make my first pie crust at the age of four and let me climb up on a chair in her kitchen to stir the green beans for Sunday dinner. My granny (Daddy's mom) was the mac-and-cheese maker. We had a standing date every Saturday. We would ride the bus into downtown Greenville and head to Tanner's Big Orange for orange juice and a chaser of little gold-wrapped coffee candies. Back in the 1970s, before malls and superstores, downtown was the place to be for the best restaurants, bakeries, and shops. Granny would tell me stories of where I came from, how life during the Depression was, and how I am so much like my daddy that I should have been a boy. This all happened over food.
  My mother and grandmothers never had a stand mixer between them, but that didn't stop them from baking and cooking up a storm. We thickened our casseroles the old-fashioned way: by cooking butter and flour together to make a roux. While the term "roux" may sound fancy, a roux couldn't be simpler to make. I watched those ladies stretch a dollar " 'til it squeaked," as my mama said, and make something from nothing. I was also taught how to use canned goods that were on sale to make a dinner that didn't taste like it came from a can, and to whip up meals using the staples in our pantry between grocery store visits. Whenever we could, we grew our own food because we had the space in the yard and the vegetables we harvested were plentiful and cheap. Cooking what's local and in season has become a trendy thing, but every redneck knows it's the cheapest way to feed your family well! When you stop to think about it, hunting and fishing are organic minus the packing house and all the fancy labels.
  One of the phrases we love most here in the South is: "Company's coming," which is always followed up with: "Cha eat yet?" Feeding people is what we do, forever offering up something to munch on. We love to be social and so we don't hesitate to drop in on one another. Sometimes you have a warning, sometimes you don't.... If you aren't serving a whole meal, you're going to at least make sure guests leave with something in their bellies. That's what this chapter is all about—being prepared with that little something to serve.
  Mama used to make this dip—even when it was cold outside. It's always made me feel like I was sitting out on a deck with waves splashing, a breeze in the air, and palm trees rustling. She served it with fruit or crackers as a simple treat or for entertaining. I think it makes a sweet and creamy starter for a tropical theme party or picnic.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Country Cooking from a Redneck Kitchen
  Many of you know that I am a proud national pie champion who cherishes every blue (and pink and red...) ribbon I have ever won. But most people don't know that my first foray into the cooking competition circuit, at age sixteen, featured a savory dish—an apricot-stuffed pork loin—that won first place in its category. After that I was hooked and started experimenting with all of the classic Southern recipes I had grown up with. I tweaked and tinkered until I had something that tasted even better than the original—or until I proved that the original was, indeed, the best recipe ever.
  While my friends wanted to be doctors and lawyers when they grew up, I hoped to become Julia Child or June Cleaver. My life revolves around food and always has. I come from a long line of Irish people who hold family in the highest regard. And if you really want to show someone you love them, there's no better way to do so than by cooking for them. That's what I learned from the women in my family. My nana (Mama's mom) put the bee in my cooking bonnet. She taught me how to make my first pie crust at the age of four and let me climb up on a chair in her kitchen to stir the green beans for Sunday dinner. My granny (Daddy's mom) was the mac-and-cheese maker. We had a standing date every Saturday. We would ride the bus into downtown Greenville and head to Tanner's Big Orange for orange juice and a chaser of little gold-wrapped coffee candies. Back in the 1970s, before malls and superstores, downtown was the place to be for the best restaurants, bakeries, and shops. Granny would tell me stories of where I came from, how life during the Depression was, and how I am so much like my daddy that I should have been a boy. This all happened over food.
  My mother and grandmothers never had a stand mixer between them, but that didn't stop them from baking and cooking up a storm. We thickened our casseroles the old-fashioned way: by cooking butter and flour together to make a roux. While the term "roux" may sound fancy, a roux couldn't be simpler to make. I watched those ladies stretch a dollar " 'til it squeaked," as my mama said, and make something from nothing. I was also taught how to use canned goods that were on sale to make a dinner that didn't taste like it came from a can, and to whip up meals using the staples in our pantry between grocery store visits. Whenever we could, we grew our own food because we had the space in the yard and the vegetables we harvested were plentiful and cheap. Cooking what's local and in season has become a trendy thing, but every redneck knows it's the cheapest way to feed your family well! When you stop to think about it, hunting and fishing are organic minus the packing house and all the fancy labels.
  One of the phrases we love most here in the South is: "Company's coming," which is always followed up with: "Cha eat yet?" Feeding people is what we do, forever offering up something to munch on. We love to be social and so we don't hesitate to drop in on one another. Sometimes you have a warning, sometimes you don't.... If you aren't serving a whole meal, you're going to at least make sure guests leave with something in their bellies. That's what this chapter is all about—being prepared with that little something to serve.
  Mama used to make this dip—even when it was cold outside. It's always made me feel like I was sitting out on a deck with waves splashing, a breeze in the air, and palm trees rustling. She served it with fruit or crackers as a simple treat or for entertaining.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know five more paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Just about everyone has eaten a chicken pot pie at some point, but in my case the sheer volume was a bit overboard. When they came out premade, Mama must have fed them to us at least once a week. She was part of the TV-dinner generation and when those things were invented, she just about fell in love. Pull them out of the freezer, hardly any wait, and "ta da" supper was ready. Lord knows I love her and miss her every day—and I even catch myself saying, "I wonder if this is as good as Mama's frozen version"—but, truth be told, I know homemade is so much better.
  Shrimp and grits is one of my favorite meals in the world. Given the choice, I would eat this dish over a prime rib. You see, I was raised for half of my life on Florida's Gulf Coast, where fresh shrimp are sweet and plentiful. And as much as I love those shrimp, the star of this rich and creamy dish really is the grits. We still have a working grits mill here in my hometown, and that's where I get mine.
  This is one from Mama. She would prep this butternut squash, potato, and beef pie and bake it once we got home from church. Back then, though we lived about nineteen miles south, we went to church in the town I live in now. By the time we got home it was already getting dark. This pie was in the oven while we had baths and got our school clothes ready for Monday morning.
  While living on Florida's Gulf Coast as a child I fell in love with seafood. I'm not a big fish eater, but give me some shellfish, like crab, which I adore, and I'm happy as a clam.... This may not be everyone's cup of tea, but it is real good if you want to try a recipe that might be a little outside your comfort zone. Dive into a medium-textured (not too airy, not too firm) soufflé that's just chock-full of sweet buttery crabmeat.
  What to do when you've got a big group of hunting and fishing buddies on their way over, or just a bunch of hungry young'uns? Here are my secrets for feeding a big crew with a bunch of stick-to-your-ribs, I-need-a-nap, I'm-so-full food. So hold on my fellow rednecks, we're gonna eat now. No fancy finger foods here—just good ol' fill-'er-up foods. Plus, these casseroles are perfect make-and-take foods to wow the potluckers in your town. You'll never again have to say, "I'll bring the cups and plates."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the last two paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: From my years living in the Sunshine State, I'm still a big fan of anything citrus, including this orange nut bread. In fact, I think this is a recipe I brought back to South Carolina from one of the little church ladies in Florida from my younger years. To mix things up, sometimes I add 3 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder with the flour to make orange-chocolate bread.
  The fabulous **Erica Gelbard Callahan** , a publicity genius, cookie master, and fellow cake-for-breakfast (Kate Spade bag lover) superwoman.