low country boil recipe
by karen krause, aka “the appreciator’s” stepmom
having lived in south carolina for a few years, this recipe represents traditional low country cooking. it was my quick and easy solution for a casual dinner party, not much fuss, prepare in a big pot, add cole slaw and piping hot bread and finish with peach cobbler.
fill a large stock pot 2/3 full of water
add 3-4 tablespoons old bay seasoning
16 small red new potatoes
8 ears fresh corn (i break in half)
2 1/2 pounds kielbasa sausage, slice into one inch pieces
2 pounds xl fresh shrimp, unpeeled
bring water and seasoning to a rolling boil in large stockpot
add potatoes, return to a boil and cook uncovered, 10 minutes
add sausage and corn and return again to a boil and cook 10 minutes or until potatoes are tender
add shrimp to pot, cook 3 minutes or until shrimp are pink, careful not to overcook
drain off stock, toss with butter and serve on a huge platter over newspapers spread atop your table
tip from me to you-often times rather than buying shrimp by the pound, i calculated approximately how many shrimp servings per person, perhaps 6-8 xl depending on the appetites of your guests
the fuzzy truth
by suzanne holzwanger,
who has the rare pleasure of actually liking her boss “the appreciator” and considers her a dear friend.
gorgeous sunsets, hot summers and swimming pools. and nestled snugly in the backyard of our far north dallas home, peach trees. thanks to my dad who filled the backyard with peach trees instead of a pool.
while the entire neighborhood was cooling off in their refreshing, glistening pools, my siblings and i were picking peaches. from the trees. from the ground. every peach went into the basket. everybody else (and in a young mind means everyone on earth) had a pool. they swam in their pools, ate by their pools, slept in their pools. not us though-we had peach trees and someone had to pick them. i was convinced my parents had the 4 of us only for this purpose.
and we didn’t just pick, we sorted.
it was usually punishment for chores not done or fights we got into. a far worse punishment though was hearing the sounds of “marco polo!” and “cannonball!” from our friends while we were stuck separating good and bad peaches in the heat (what? she invited her??)
i remember my great aunt Viola, who happens to turn 99 this month, driving down from sherman to visit. I thought she was coming to see us but it was really for the peaches. she and my mom would sit and peel, jar and bake with a kitchen full. boxes and bowls and all fruit ev-er-y-where. i loved the end result of their cobblers, pies, and jams though. such a bitter sweet relationship.
flashing forward a few years,