Steakhouse Mushrooms

Four hundred weeks. I have been writing this blog for four hundred weeks, which is seven years and forty-eight weeks, which is nearly eight years, which is longer than some marriages and most diets and all of my attempts to grow watermelon, which have failed every single year because watermelon requires more patience than I am willing to give a fruit that takes up half the garden for one melon.

Four hundred weeks of standing at this stove and telling you about the food and the life. Four hundred weeks of shrimp and grits and collard greens and fried chicken and cornbread and the people who eat it. In four hundred weeks: a husband died. A granddaughter became a nurse and then a wife. Another granddaughter became a wife. A great-grandson named after my dead son was conceived but not yet born (that's coming — Kayla and Devon are talking, and the talking will become doing, and the doing will become a baby, and the baby will become the next chapter of a story that started on the east side of Savannah in a shotgun house with six children and a mother who could make a feast out of nothing).

In four hundred weeks: a knee was replaced. A Lowcountry boil was attended on the old knee's last shift. A garden was planted and harvested and planted again, season after season, the Cherokee Purples and the Sapelo peppers and the okra that grows like it's being paid overtime. A church was returned to. A cane — Earl's cane — was picked up and put away. A cast iron skillet — Hattie Pearl's skillet — kept cooking.

I don't know how many more weeks I have. That's not pessimism — that's math. I am sixty-eight years old. My blood pressure is managed but high. My diabetes is controlled but present. My knees work — one original, one titanium — but the rest of me is sixty-eight years of living in a Savannah summer and a Savannah kitchen, and that adds up. I am not worried about the number. I am focused on the meals. One more Sunday dinner. One more shrimp and grits. One more pot of greens cooked low and slow. One more plate handed across the table with a "Here, baby, eat." That is the only future I am interested in: the next meal. And the one after that. And the one after that.

Made shrimp and grits tonight. Week four hundred. The same dish I made week one. The grits are stone-ground. The shrimp are local. The butter is generous. The love is total. Four hundred weeks and the food hasn't changed because the love hasn't changed because the mission hasn't changed: feed people. That's all it ever was.

Now go on and feed somebody.

I said the butter is generous, and I meant it — that’s not just a fact about shrimp and grits, that’s a philosophy. These steakhouse mushrooms came out of Hattie Pearl’s skillet the same way everything does: low heat, good butter, no rushing. If you’re going to feed somebody, feed them right. Four hundred weeks later, that’s still the whole lesson.

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 20 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 lb cremini or button mushrooms, wiped clean and halved
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 cup beef broth or dry red wine
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1/4 teaspoon dried)
2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped

Instructions

Heat the skillet. Place a large cast iron or heavy-bottomed skillet over medium-high heat. Let it get good and hot before adding anything — a dry, hot pan is what gives mushrooms their color.
Sear the mushrooms. Add 2 tablespoons of the butter to the skillet and let it foam. Add the mushrooms in a single layer, cut side down. Do not stir — let them sit undisturbed for 4 to 5 minutes until they develop a deep golden-brown crust on one side.
Stir and season. Stir the mushrooms and season with salt and pepper. Cook another 3 to 4 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the mushrooms have released their liquid and it has mostly evaporated.
Build the sauce. Reduce heat to medium. Add the remaining 2 tablespoons butter and the minced garlic. Cook, stirring constantly, for 1 minute until the garlic is fragrant and just turning golden. Add the Worcestershire sauce and beef broth (or wine), scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan.
Finish with herbs. Add the thyme and let everything simmer together for 2 minutes until the sauce has reduced slightly and coats the mushrooms. Taste and adjust salt as needed.
Serve. Transfer to a serving dish and scatter the fresh parsley over the top. Serve hot, straight from the skillet if you’ve got company worth impressing.

Nutrition (per serving)

Steakhouse Mushrooms — The Butter Is Generous, and So Is the Love