Recipe for a little Southern Spice

Jezebel Sauce, an Alabama tradition

I had some unexpected treats in my Easter Basket this year…two delicious versions of Sister Strong’s infamous Jezebel Sauce.

Easter Dinner was potluck, and with the ham she brought along two jars of Jezebel Sauce. WOW!

When she first mentioned it, I pictured the Henry Bain sauce we love to serve over beef tenderloin in Kentucky (recipes to follow).

There are some similarities, but Jezebel beats the pants off Henry when served with the milder flavors of pork or chicken.

(If you know me, you know I cook a chicken for Sophie every five or six days. She is an ancient English Setter, a rescue from a puppy mill, with a finicky stomach. I keep the chicken breasts and mix the rest with well-cooked rice, and we’re both happy. So I’m always on the lookout for interesting ways to serve my chicken…)

For the past few weeks I’ve been tinkering with the recipes for Jezebel Sauce and I’ve hit on a terrific variation using sugar-free apricot preserves and a tablespoon of Betsy’s homemade Bourbon Mustard. I’ve found that a wrap made of a flour tortilla, a few crisp pieces of leaf lettuce topped with a couple of slices of chicken and some Jezebel Sauce make the perfect lunch!

Photo from 'Cooking Light'. Their recipe was great, but definitely not 'light'

For both Henry & Jezebel, it’s all about the surprising combination of sweet, preserved fruit and tangy horseradish… who knew?

I think every refrigerator deserves to have a bottle of both Henry and Jezebel in the door…  it is a perfectly spicy marriage of flavor!

Basic 1950 Recipe for Jezebel Sauce

1 (10 oz ) jar pineapple or apricot preserves

1 (10 oz ) jar apple jelly

1/3 cup prepared horseradish

1/4 cup dry mustard

2 teaspoons finely ground black pepper (or to taste)

salt to taste

Basic 1880 Recipe for the Sauce created by Henry Bain for the Pendennis Club in Louisville

1 (12 oz.) bottle chili sauce

1 (14 oz.) bottle ketchup

1 (10 oz.) bottle A-1 Sauce

1 (10 oz.) bottle Worcestershire Sauce

1 (8 oz.) bottle mango or peach chutney

Tabasco Sauce to taste

Mix all in a blender (or chop the fruit and mix, my personal choice) and pour into bottles to share with friends – it makes a lot, trust me!

photo of Henry Bain Sauce from the website

Coquina Chef

My first attempt at Coquina Chowder was 25 years ago.  The kids had collected a bucket full of the little jewel-toned clams from the surf and, on advice from a lady on the beach, Jan and I cooked them up.   

Coquina Collection

 

The broth was fragrant and it tasted like clams, but we were afraid to serve it to our happy sun-kissed children (this was back in the dark ages, before we had access to the Information Highway, so we had no way to verify if coquina were, in fact, even edible) and we sadly poured the remainder down the drain.   

Coquina bed

 

So I know Jan was smiling down on us as Leah spent hours digging in the sand collecting the most colorful shells this week.  I ‘Googled’  when we got back to the house and found that coquina are not only edible, but considered a delicacy in Europe.    

Our first batch was tasty, but sandy. Leah knew all about  ’purging’ crayfish before cooking, so we researched clams and hit on a procedure that seemed sensible and feasible for coquina.  

  

 The next morning we brought a gallon bucket full back to the house and started to work on our Coquina Chowder.   

In Italy they are called ‘arselle’   

Image from Il Forno

 

and are served over pasta, and in France they are called ‘telline’ and served with garlic and parsley…  leaving the hapless diner the work of removing the tiny tasty morsels from their shells. In Lower Alabama we shuck the little clams for our guests, and it is a labor of love.   

While the coquina were busy ‘purging’ Leah and I looked for the perfect recipe. We decided on a variation from my favorite  seafood cookbook, “Catch ‘em and Cook ‘em”  by Bunny Day, a treasure published in 1961.   

When they were ready, we dashed them in boiling water just barely long enough to cook them, fearing they could easily become hard and rubbery like so many of the clams in clam chowder.   

Cooked Coquina

 

We poured off the steaming broth and I started on the chowder while Leah began the long process of shucking (and separating) the coquina shells.   

Coquina Butterflies

 

Almost three hours later, the soup was finally ready for a taste test. We held our collective breath as both her parents and her brother sampled a bowl… and proclaimed it, “good”.  And coming from the Batemans, that’s high praise!   

Coquina Chowder

 

But the grand prize was awarded the next day when Sharon called to tell me her husband poured the last of it into tupperware to take to their Cajun Grandmother’s birthday celebration this weekend!   

Here’s to you, Jan!