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True Grits
A Northerner Converts at Woodson's Mill
A couple hundred pounds of dried corn kernels are on a wild ride. Swept up 60 feet to the fourth floor by conveyor, they hurtle back down through a series of chutes in a riotous clatter, like a herd of ball bearings on the run. Pouring past the "damsel" that starts them whirling, they drop into a hole in the center of an 1,800 pound granite wheel spinning on top of its mate. A deep hum, more sensation than sound, rises to join the rhythmic shushing of the waterwheel outside. Crushed by sharpened grooves spiraling outward from the center of each stone, the grain spins toward a spout at one edge before cascading, once again, into view. A sweet, grassy fragrance quickens the air, as if an ear of field-fresh corn is being husked just inches away from my nose.
This is Woodson's Mill a beautifully restored water-powered mill in Lowesville, Virginia, that dates back to 1794 where I'm hot on the trail of grits. People think of grits as a Southern thing, but our forbears in the corn-rich Mid-Atlantic knew and appreciated them, too. We even have our own grammar for them: Southerners think "grits" is singular, while we refer to them in the plural. Given our resurging interest in grains (polenta and tamale stuffing are mostly cornmeal, after all), the smart money is on grits making their way back to our tables with renewed vigor. But not just any grits. I'm talking about the sweet, fresh stone-ground grits produced in small batches, just as they were in times long past, at places like Woodson's Mill.
"The truth is, we have never made meals and flours any better than they did in the 18th century, "Gill Brockenbrough, owner of the mill, tells me. A slow-speaking, Norfolk born gentleman with a rich Tidewater Virginia accent, Brockenbrough is a fourth-generation coffee-and-tea importer and founder of First Colony Coffee and Tea Company, a business he sold in 1994.
At first, he says, it was the lovely Arts-and-Crafts-style home, built in 1929 on the hill above Woodson's Mill, and its picturesque location in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains that captured his heart. But not long after he bought the property in 1983, the dilapidated mill itself began calling his name. One of Brockenbrough's first moves as owner had been to rebuild the property's dam on the Piney River so that he could refill the three-acre millpond just below the house. Once the pond was restored, it seemed only right to repair the raceways leading to the mill. With the raceways working, well, harnessing the driving force of all that water was only logical. As one step led to the next. Brockenbrough turned an increasingly passionate eye on the mill.
"I became fascinated with the technology of water power," he says, "and with the idea that this mill's life spanned the time when that technology was at its pinnacle. We went from simply preserving what we found here to restoring what had been in the past." Three arduous years later, on an Easter Sunday, he and miller Steve Roberts, who had originally been hired to paint the building's tin roof, ground their first bit of grain. They were hooked.
Invited to place my hand in the stream of ground corn pouring out from between the stones, I marvel at its delicate golden color, its pearly flecks and dark speckles, its coolness despite the friction of grinding. Once the grits are sifted out from the finer cornmeal, they still bear no resemblance to any grocery-store grits I have ever seen. Multi-textured and the color of muslin, these grits look lively, wholesome, and inviting.
The difference is this: The most common grocery-store grits are actually "hominy" grits, made by soaking dried corn in slaked lime or lye to remove the husks and germ. This technique, learned from native Americans, renders the dried corn edible, but also robs it of color and nutritive value. Whole (or big) hominy, sold in cans, is wet-packed kernels of this processed corn. When whole hominy is dried and coarsely ground, it becomes hominy grits, which are then enriched to restore nutrition.
Stone-ground, or "old-fashioned" grits, produced by small mills like Woodson's, are, on the other hand, nothing more or less than dried corn, yellow or white, ground slowly to preserve the essential oils. Some millers, like Brockenbrough, grind sweet Silver Queen corn, while others use flint corn, which makes for sturdier flavored grits. Because the corn is not processed in any way before grinding, but simply dried, the bran and germ remain intact. Dark speckles in the grits attest to the fact that the corn's nutrients its iron, niacin, and riboflavin have not been removed. The result is a more perishable product than grocery-store grits, but also one naturally nutritious and flavorful. (Buy your stone-ground grits fresh and store them in the refrigerator or freezer.)
A simple recipe like Woodson's Mill Grits shows off the straightforward taste and appealing texture of the fresh stone-ground product.
Woodson's Mill Grits
Serves 4
1 cup Woodson's Mill Grits
3 cups salted water
Bring the water to a boil. Slowly pour in grits while stirring. Turn heat to low and cover. Stir frequently to keep from the grits from sticking. Cook for 25 minutes.
Even the most die-hard grits lovers do a little doctoring, adding good measures of butter and salt, along with a few grinds of pepper. But top the bowl with a little milk and fresh fruit or, for a more traditional breakfast, with fried eggs and ham and you'll be on your way to a full-fledged conversion.
Beyond the fresh flavor of stone-ground grits, I love the way this simple food connects us with our past. Former New York Times editor Turner Catledge, in a delightful article published in 1982, calls grits "the first truly American food." He cites a day in the spring of 1607, when sea-weary colonists stepped ashore at Jamestown, Virginia, to be greeted by friendly Indians proffering bowls of rockahominie, steaming hot "softened maize seasoned with salt and some kind of animal fat, probably bear grease." In other words, doctored hominy grits. Bear grease may not hold much appeal these days, but the idea of enriching grits with one thing or another does.
At the Boar's Head Inn, a posh resort just outside Charlottesville, Virginia, executive chef Ken Harnad carries on the tradition of offering travelers a restorative bowl of grits. His recipe courts glory by immersing them, Cleopatra style, in a slow, long-simmering bath of milk and half-and-half.
Chef Ken Harnad's Creamy Grits
Serves 4
2 cups water
4 tablespoons salted butter
1 cup stone-ground grits
2 to 3 cups equal parts milk and half-and-half
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
Bring the water and butter to a boil in a heavy saucepan. Stir in the grits slowly and return to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer until most of the water is absorbed, stirring constantly.
Add 1 cup of the milk mixture, and turn the heat to low. As the liquid evaporates, add more of the milk mixture, stirring frequently, and cook until the grits reach the desired consistency. Total cooking time should be at least an hour.
Top Ken Harnad's grits with a simple barbecued pork chop, as I did, or perhaps fanned slices of spice-rubbed ham, and you'll be dining on the classic American pairing of corn and pork. For another traditional combination -- shrimp and grits -- I turn to a dish inspired equally by Cajun-country and the cooking of the coastal Carolinas. Served by Baltimore chef Cindy Wolf at her restaurant Charleston, this is the dish that sparked this northerner's enthusiasm for grits. They are rendered wonderfully creamy by a simple technique: constant, brisk stirring.
Chef Cindy Wolf's Shrimp with Andouille Sausage and Tasso Ham over Creamy Grits
Serves 4
24 unpeeled, heads-on shrimp (or an equal number headless 10-to-a-pound shrimp)
1/2 cup andouille sausage, diced small
1/2 cup tasso ham, diced small
1 teaspoon finely chopped garlic
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut in small squares
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 ounces shrimp stock (see note)
4 ounces white wine
8 tablespoons green onion
1 tablespoon parsley, finely chopped
1 recipe creamy grits (see below)
Peel the shrimp, and reserve the shells for stock. Heat the olive oil in a pan and saute the shrimp. When the shrimp are halfway done, stir in the andouille sausage and the tasso ham. Add the garlic, and almost immediately add the white wine and shrimp stock. Then add the cold butter to thicken the sauce; shake the pan to incorporate the butter. Stir in the green onion and parsley and serve over a bed of Wolf's creamy grits.
Note: To make shrimp stock, rinse the shells from the peeled shrimp and place them in a small saucepan with cold water just to cover. Bring to a rolling boil, then strain out the shells, reserving the stock.
Chef Cindy Wolf's Creamy Grits
4 cups whole milk (do not use low-fat milk)
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup stone-ground grits
Combine the milk, butter, and salt in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Add the grits, stirring constantly. Cook for 20 minutes or so, stirring all the while, until the grits feel soft in the mouth.
One of my favorite grits tales comes from The American Heritage Cookbook, which tells the story of John Bartram of Darby, Pennsylvania, one of the nation's first great, native-born naturalists. Bartram recorded in his journal a feast in upstate New York that involved "three great kettles of Indian corn soup, or thin homony, with dry'd eels and other fish boiled in it," partaken of in the mid-1700s after a conference with the chiefs of the Iroquois Confederacy.
It did not become his new favorite dish, but my contention is that he, like us, was simply waiting for the right grits to come along. And here they are, freshly stone-ground and perfect for corn-loving palates like ours.
Woodson's Mill, located 35 miles south of Charlottesville in Nelson County, Virginia, is open to visitors on Saturdays from 8 am to 5 pm. (804) 277-5604