Damon Lee Fowler

We're finally having autumnal weather in our corner of Virginia: chilly nights and mild days, enough rain to bring out the color of the leaves and holly berries in our garden, and lots of sunshine giving that golden light that only happens as the year winds its way to a close.

It's perfect weather for the hearty, warming soups that are made with dried beans and peas, especially split green peas. Split pea with ham is a long-time favorite cold weather comfort in our household, and yet I'd actually not made it since we moved.

It was past time to seek out a couple of meaty ham hocks, dig out my favorite bean soup pot, and stir up a batch. Read More 

16 March 2023: Comfort Casserole

It's funny how we all talk about "comfort food" as if it's a simple, clearly defined thing. From time to time we even see stories about an "ultimate" comfort food such as mashed potatoes. But the reality is that the concept is among the most complicated and ill-defined in all cooking, mainly because it's completely subjective.

What we find comforting is wrapped up in our individual taste preferences (which often defy everything else) and our experiences: where we were born, where we were raised, what the cooking of our family was like, how often and far we have traveled, what the climate was like at the homes of our formative years, and even what the climate is like in the places we call home now.

There are people for whom—shock of shocks—mashed potatoes would not be a comfort at all, never mind an "ultimate" one.

Likewise, there are undoubtedly a lot of people for whom a casserole of any kind would not even appeal.  Read More 

While I've been out in the jungle we call the back garden, hacking away at the briars that have surrounded our sadly neglected greenhouse like Sleeping Beauty's castle, Lent has crept up on me.

For those who don't observe the Christian calendar, Lent is a penitential season of spiritual fasting modeled on the forty day fast that Jesus took to prepare for his ministry. Well, since he retreated to the wilderness for that one, in a way it seems appropriate that my Lenten observance began out in our own little wilderness.

Many who observe Lent focus on what they're not doing (most often what they're not eating and drinking). But a proper spiritual fast is less about the abstinence that marks it outwardly than the introspection and contemplation that ought to be going on inwardly. To that end, there's been a trend over the last few years to shift the focus from "giving things up" to "taking things on" as a spiritual discipline.

Perhaps rescuing our sadly neglected garden could be thought of as spiritual, but then again, so can everything we do. With that idea in mind, these days  Read More 

The weather here in Virginia has been unusually mild, cool enough to invigorate, but not too warm to make working in the garden uncomfortable. Since there are only a few weeks left in the dormant season, I've been back out in it, trying to get as much as possible under control before spring.

I'm doing the work mostly alone, with limited tools, which would be daunting for someone half my age. And as the masses of yard waste, pruned limbs, felled trees, cut bamboo, and tangles of cut vines continue to pile up, what remains to be done is a little overwhelming. It's probably to be expected that my cooking has been basic and heavy on winter comfort food that I've shared too often to revisit on this page.

But every now and again inspiration strikes. It may be an unexpected discovery Read More 

In the late seventies and early eighties, the airwaves of public radio were graced with the homespun wit and wisdom of Kim Williams, a naturalist and writer from Missoula, Montana. Her commentary covered just about every aspect of life, but the one that has stayed with me, and is inevitably brought to mind by this time of year, extolled the virtues of joyfully abandoning our self-control for a season of unchecked feasting.

Taking a cue from the oft-quoted beginning of the third chapter of Ecclesiastes, "To everything there is a season," she believed that periods of unreserved celebrating were essential Read More 

If your Christmas tree is lying at the curb, the decorations are already packed away, and you've started your New Year's resolution to cut back and lose weight, that's too bad. Because today—not December 26, is the actual end of Christmas—its last hurrah, if you will.

That means we've got at least one more day of Christmas feasting, two if, like me, you let it linger into Epiphany Read More 

Let's begin with a full disclosure that what you are about to read outlines a not-terribly-stellar moment in my life in the kitchen.

Last week, I decided to make a batch of homemade fudge for Christmas, basing it on one of my own recipes for a dark chocolate fudge frosting. Most chocolate fudge gets its flavor from cocoa powder, but that rich, dark frosting contained both cocoa and bittersweet chocolate. It seemed like just the thing for a little Christmas indulgence.

Despite the facts that it was a humid day (not the best conditions for making candy) and I had not made fudge in years, it began well. The sugar, cocoa, and milk mixture came to its rolling boil Read More 

One of the most challenging and irksome things about writing recipes is that they, like their authors, are imperfect. But unlike their authors, once they hit print, they're static. We humans aren't: We're constantly learning and evolving—and that includes what we do in the kitchen.

The truth is, not one of us is ever completely educated. The only ways we stop learning are by either willfully refusing new information or dying. If we're breathing and paying attention, we're always coming into contact with something we've never seen, thought about, or imagined.

A good cook never stops learning—that's why they are good.  Read More 

As we move into our first almost-normal holiday season in three years, I've been thinking about something the late Marcella Hazan once said of her American cooking students. Whenever she taught a dish that was new, at least one of them was sure to say that he or she was going to make it for a dinner party the following weekend.

She admired that adventurous spirit because such a notion would never even occur to most Italians. A meal offered to guests outside the family would be one they'd made hundreds of times—even if that was how often it had been served to those same guests in the past.

Well, admirable it may be, but there's a fine line between being adventurous and foolhardy.  Read More 

Two of my favorite things about cooking Thanksgiving dinner are the broth pots that begin and end it. Not only does that wonderful aroma fill the house twice, that second batch of broth squeezes out every ounce of goodness the bird had to offer, and extends the holiday feasting into the weekend and beyond.

By Thanksgiving night, since we had a small bird and a large crowd, Read More 

It's none of my business what kind of gravy you serve today. Whether you add wine, include the giblets and add chopped boiled eggs, or thicken it with a roux or butter is up to you. But here's how to make that gravy silky-smooth and delicious. Read More 

As we begin our second year living in Virginia, we're also enjoying our second full Autumn. This has always been my favorite time of the year. Maybe it's the invigorating coolness in the air, the golden light and brightly colored leaves, or the fact that it's harvest time, but this inward-turning season always seems more hopeful. It's also when I'm happiest in my kitchen.

For four decades, we lived in a place where the only hint of the season before November was that golden light. The warmth and autumnal aromas that filled my kitchen often did not go with what was happening outdoors: The frost on the windows was on the outside, where the still-warm, humid air collided with glass chilled by the air conditioner.

So it's a blessing to once again be living in a place where we have real autumn weather and my kitchen's warmth is actually welcome. It's been fragrant with Read More 

As we close in on our first year of living full time in Petersburg, we love it here, and are growing more attached to it as the months pass. But it would be a bald-faced lie to say that we aren't sometimes more than a little homesick for Savannah.

One of the things I miss most (aside from people) is Russo's fish market and the fresh local brown creek shrimp and blue crab that we so took for granted. There are a few fish markets here, but  Read More 

Perhaps it's the monotonously regular summer menu of salads and cold or room temperature food, but even in the warmest of days, there are times when a hot soup is not only welcome, but the only thing that really satisfies us. There's rarely a summer day, however, when venturing into a hot kitchen to make soup, even a cold one, is welcome.

Luckily, most soups don't take a lot of the cook's time, nor necessarily have to simmer for hours to be good.  Read More 

One of the great ironies of summer is that it's the very time of year when vegetable soups are at their best, since all the ingredients are at peak season, just when the last thing one wants to do is stand over a hot stove.

Luckily, these soups really don't require the cook to stand over them for more than a few minutes. You put it together before the kitchen is heated up, hang around only as long as it takes for it to come to a simmer, then just walk away Read More 

Because I was late putting in our little herb garden, the basil is only just now full enough for the first batch of pesto. But clipping the tips back to make it fuller has given nice little handfuls for stirring into things like pasta with zucchini or filling in for lettuce in a BLT.

The best, however, is always  Read More 

Summer in the South (or, for that matter, anywhere) is full of irony for cooks. The bounty of produce inspires us at the very moment that the heat and humidity kill off any interest in being in front of a hot stove. The compensation is of course that summer is when the ingredients need the least amount of help from the cook. Indeed, they often don't need any help at all.

There's not much one can do to improve on a good peach or tomato that has been allowed to ripen to peak flavor on its tree or vine. If you doubt that, then you've never plucked one of either, given it a wipe or rinse, and bitten into it on the spot.

You might call it lazy, but there's wisdom (not to mention less chance of heatstroke) in knowing when to leave things alone. Read More 

The beginning of our first full summer in Virginia found me out in the yard, still trying to beat into submission the overgrowth that had taken over the garden. It hasn't been without rewards:   beneath the wisteria, brambles, wild grapes, and poison ivy (that I swear sprout new growth the instant one's back is turned) lie the remains of a garden that was once a showplace.

Still, it's been hard not to get overwhelmed, so as the heat increases and my stamina lags, my focus has turned to small projects close to the house. One such project has been the filling of three barren planting beds on the back terrace.

The first order of business for this cook of course was an herb garden.  Read More 

While I was a student at Clemson's center for architectural studies in Genoa more than forty years ago, Ilda, our lovely cook, used to make us something she called an "omeletta." It was really not an omelette in the French sense, nor was it a frittata, but something halfway between. Read More 

This page has been rather quiet this spring, mainly because there hasn't been a lot of cooking going on in my kitchen that I've not already shared. While our new life in Virginia has not been without adventures, they've not been of the culinary kind. I've been excavating and discovering our own Secret Garden.

Our house sits on more than an acre of land, which nowadays can be called a "garden" only in the very loosest sense of the term. Mind, it wasn't always that way: Read More 

A favorite winter comfort in our house is that classic bistro standard, French Onion Soup Gratinée (28 October 2014: Mastering the Art of French Onion Soup Gratinéed). Since it's at its best made with a rich homemade broth, making it is a two day process.

But taking that extra step is so worth it, for its side benefit is that there's always boiled beef and extra broth left over for lovely things like another of our favorite winter comforts, pot pie. Read More 

It's been a typical frosty January here in Petersburg, with just enough snow to be pretty and fun without getting tedious, and just enough frost in the air to make a fire on the hearth welcome but not absolutely necessary.

In other words, it's perfect pot roast weather.

After years of watching my mother and maternal grandparents assemble dozens of this Sunday dinner staple, and almost half a century of making it on my own, I never even glance at a recipe. Yet, except when I'm really homesick, it but rarely comes out exactly like the pot roasts of my childhood—by design.

The lovely thing about dishes like this is that once we've mastered the basic technique and keep in mind which flavors work well together, we're free to be in the moment and just cook. Read More 

I don't know how you all greeted the new year, but I hope it wasn't the way we did: in bed with head colds. Whenever I'm under the weather, if I can stand upright for more than two minutes, I drag myself to the store for a chicken and make a big pot of broth for chicken soup. (The one good thing about being in the middle of a pandemic is that the discipline of wearing a mask and constant hand-washing meant that there was little danger of passing that cold around.)

Yes, I could've just opened a can, and have been known to do that while waiting for heat to work its magic on the chicken, water, and a handful of vegetables. But the mass-produced contents of a can aren't at all the same and simply don't have the healing power of homemade soup. Read More 

As new variants of the Covid virus sharply remind us that the pandemic is far from over, some are choosing to once again forego large family gatherings and keep the holidays in a more intimate way with only their immediate household.

Never mind that this provides many of us with a convenient excuse to avoid some of our more tedious relatives, most of us have had just enough freedom for it to still be disappointing, especially those whose households are just two or even one person.

It also makes the large roast that's the centerpiece of the traditional feast impractical. But there doesn't actually have to be a honking big turkey, goose, standing rib, or crown roast in the middle of the table for the meal to be sumptuous and festive.  Read More 

Most of us have heard that old saw about how moving is as stressful as the loss of a job, the death of a spouse or close family member, a divorce, or a debilitating illness. Well, having been through all of those things, I can't say it's quite up to their level, but what I can tell you is that it gets more difficult with age.

Two months into our new life in Virginia, people ask if we're unpacked and settled; we look at one another, let out a sigh, and then laugh. On the surface, the house is beginning to look as if we've lived here for a long time. The boxes are all unpacked, a lot of the pictures are hanging, and shelves are filled with books.

But unpacked isn't settled Read More 

20 October 2021: Making a Vacation Kitchen Home and an Autumnal Salad

This weekend we will have been gone from Savannah for a month. We're settling in at our house in Virginia and it's finally beginning to sink in that we're not on a vacation that will soon end: We're really and truly here to stay.

The most challenging and yet welcome transition for me has been the kitchen. Bright, sunny, and more inviting than any of my many kitchens have been, it's also been better equipped than those of most vacation houses. But while perfect for the on holiday cooking I've done in it, there's still been a lot of making-do.

Now that all the equipment has been reunited in one place, you'd think it would've been perfect.  Read More 

People often ask why I never considered opening my own restaurant. My ready answer is that I'd as soon climb onto a chair, put a noose around my neck, and jump. I like cooking and want to keep it that way. But it's actually deeper than that: the truth is I've cooked professionally—only a little, but just enough for me to promise myself I'd never do it again.

While awaiting the publication of my first cookbook back in the early nineties, in what can only have been a moment of complete insanity, I let myself get talked into running the kitchen of a lunch café in downtown Savannah. The owner, who I suspect was a few bricks shy of a load (for goodness' sake, she'd hired an ex-architect who'd never cooked professionally to run her kitchen), had decorated the place without any idea of what kind of food it would offer.

Nor had any thought been given to how that food would be prepared.  Read More 

One of my early mentors and friends in food writing was the late Marie Rudisill, whom you may have known as the outrageously frank Fruitcake Lady on The Tonight Show. Her first and best advice was, "Don't change your phone number, sugar: Half the fun you're gonna have from this thing is the phone calls you'll get."

The trouble was—and is—that I chose a profession that imposes solitude for a reason. I'm not outgoing by nature. But she was right; the best compensation for being reluctantly pushed into the public eye is that rare, unexpected call or letter that comes out of nowhere and lifts the spirit just when you need it most.

Over the years, they've sparked many treasured friendships, but none has meant more than the one that bloomed over a duck.  Read More 

The people who complain about long-winded recipe introductions will be happy with this one. I'll be short and sweet. Lillie Castleberry King was a lovely dowager from Talladega, Alabama. A true Southern lady in every sense of the title, she was noted for her baking, and these simple puddings were an after-school treat for her children when they were growing up in the 1940s.

She shared the recipe with me almost forty years ago.  Read More 

Dropping by Charles J. Russo's, my neighborhood fish market, for the shrimp that went into that sauté with new potatoes a couple of days back, some lovely fresh bay scallops caught my imagination and, like a child in the grocery, it started begging me to take some home.

A nice, simple gratin seemed like just the thing for them, with a touch of garlic, scallions, and a little hot pepper to season them, a few soft crumbs to soak up the juice they inevitably shed, and a few buttered dry crumbs to finish their top.

What could possibly go wrong? Well. It wasn't exactly wrong, but the garlic turned out to be way more than "a touch." Read More