The cookbook was nominated for a James Beard Award. I found out via email. From Katherine. The subject line: "YOU'RE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE THIS." I believed it. I opened the email and I believed it because Mama's kitchen deserves every award that exists and the fact that a panel of food experts recognized what I've known since I was eight on a step stool — that the recipes in that kitchen are extraordinary — the fact that they agree is not surprising. It's confirming. The kitchen was always a James Beard kitchen. It just needed someone to write it down.
The nomination is for American Cooking. The ceremony is in Chicago. I will go. I will wear the green blouse (always the green blouse). I will sit in a ballroom surrounded by chefs and food writers and I will hold Mama's book and I will know that the woman who taught me to season by feel — the woman in the housecoat, the woman with the Folgers can, the woman who died on Easter Sunday asking for ham — that woman's recipes are being recognized by the highest authority in American food. The James Beard Foundation is saying: this mattered. This kitchen mattered. This woman mattered. And the daughter who wrote it down — the daughter who didn't stop — she mattered too.
I called Curtis. I said, "Daddy, the book was nominated for a James Beard Award." Long silence. Then: "What's a James Beard?" I explained. He said, "So it's like... a prize?" I said, "It's the biggest prize in food." He said, "Your mama would say she already knew." He's right. She already knew. She always knew. The kitchen was always the award. The food was always the prize. The James Beard just made it official.
When I think about Mama’s kitchen — the one the James Beard Foundation just decided to pay attention to — I think about the sounds as much as the smells: oil popping in a cast iron skillet, cornmeal hitting the side of a bowl, the hush that fell over the table the moment something landed on a plate. These hush puppies were always there, always golden, always the thing that got eaten before anything else could. Making them now feels like holding the book in that Chicago ballroom — like proof that what she made in that kitchen was always exactly right.
Hush Puppy Mix
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 1 1/2 cups yellow cornmeal
- 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
- 1 tablespoon baking powder
- 1 teaspoon sugar
- 3/4 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
- 1/2 cup finely diced yellow onion
- 1 large egg, beaten
- 3/4 cup buttermilk
- Vegetable oil, for frying (about 3 cups)
Instructions
- Heat the oil. Pour vegetable oil into a deep heavy-bottomed pot or cast iron Dutch oven to a depth of about 3 inches. Heat over medium-high heat until it reaches 365°F on a thermometer.
- Mix the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the cornmeal, flour, baking powder, sugar, salt, and cayenne until evenly combined.
- Add the wet ingredients. Stir in the diced onion, beaten egg, and buttermilk until a thick, cohesive batter forms. Do not overmix — a few small lumps are fine. Let the batter rest for 5 minutes.
- Test the oil. Drop a small bit of batter into the oil — it should sizzle immediately and rise to the surface. If it sinks and sits, the oil is not hot enough.
- Fry in batches. Using a small cookie scoop or two spoons, carefully drop rounded tablespoons of batter into the hot oil. Fry 4 to 5 at a time — do not crowd the pot. Cook 3 to 4 minutes, turning once halfway through, until deep golden brown on all sides.
- Drain and season. Remove hush puppies with a slotted spoon and transfer to a paper towel-lined plate. Season lightly with flaky salt while still hot. Repeat with remaining batter.
- Serve immediately. Hush puppies are best eaten fresh out of the oil while the crust is still crisp. Serve alongside catfish, greens, or anything Mama would have set on that table.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 210 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 32g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 390mg