Le Sud Élevé

The first time I made this, I wasn’t trying to impress anyone.
I was just trying to make something that tasted like I meant it.

The biscuit is half memory, half offering.
There’s an earthiness in the sweet potato—not sharp like beet,
but quiet, like the smell of rain just under the skin of the world.
It holds everything else.
You might not name it, but you’d miss it if it were gone.

The chicken? A reply to all the dry ones I endured, polite and patient.
The jam came later—sweet, sharp, and herbal,
like something you whisper when no one’s earned your truth.

The yolk breaks like a promise, and that’s fine.
It’s still warm. Still worth holding.

It doesn’t need a name.
Names are for menus and memory.
This is just something warm,
crisp at the edges,
soft where it counts,
and exactly what I needed—
nothing more.

Le Sud Élevé

Sweet Potato Biscuit Sandwich with Fried Chicken, Sunny Egg, and Apricot–Tarragon Jam

Sweet Potato Biscuits

Yield: 8 biscuits

Ingredients:

• 2 cups all-purpose flour

• 1 tbsp baking powder

• 1/2 tsp baking soda

• 1 tsp kosher salt

• 1 tbsp brown sugar (optional, balances the potato)

• 1/2 cup unsalted butter, cold and cubed

• 1 cup mashed roasted sweet potato (cooled)

• 1/2 cup cold buttermilk, more if needed

• Brown butter, for brushing

• Flaky sea salt, for finishing

Method:

1. Whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and sugar.

2. Cut in cold butter until mixture forms pea-sized pieces.

3. Fold in mashed sweet potato until loosely incorporated.

4. Add buttermilk gradually to bring dough together—do not overmix.

5. Turn dough out, pat to 1-inch thickness, fold once or twice for layers.

6. Cut into rounds and chill for 10–15 minutes.

7. Bake at 425°F for 15–18 minutes, until golden.

8. Brush immediately with brown butter and sprinkle with flaky salt.
   
   

Fried Chicken Thigh

Yield: 1 thigh per sandwich

Brine (overnight):

• 1 cup buttermilk

• 1 tbsp hot sauce

• 1 tsp garlic powder

• 1 tsp kosher salt

• 1/2 tsp dried thyme

Dredge:

• 1 cup all-purpose flour

• 1/4 cup cornstarch

• 1 tsp dry mustard

• 1 tsp crushed coriander seed

• 1/2 tsp smoked paprika

• Salt and black pepper to taste

Hot Honey Butter (for brushing):

• 2 tbsp butter

• 1 tbsp honey

• Pinch chili flake or cayenne

Method:

1. Brine chicken thighs overnight in buttermilk mixture.

2. Remove from brine, dredge in seasoned flour. Let sit for 10–15 minutes.

3. Fry at 350°F until internal temp reaches 165°F and the coating is crisp.

4. Brush hot chicken with hot honey butter before serving.

Sunny Side Egg

Yield: 1 per sandwich

Ingredients:

• 1 fresh egg

• Butter, for frying

• Espelette pepper

• Kosher salt

Method:

1. Crack egg into medium-hot pan with butter.

2. Baste gently to cook whites through, leaving yolk runny.

3. Season lightly with salt and a dusting of Espelette just before plating.
   
   

Apricot–Tarragon Jam

Yield: ~2 cups

Ingredients:

• 1 cup dried apricots, chopped

• 1 cup water or white wine

• 2 tbsp shallots, minced

• 2 tbsp Dijon mustard

• 1 tbsp whole grain mustard

• 2 tsp apple cider vinegar

• 2 tsp honey (adjust depending on apricot sweetness)

• 1 tbsp fresh tarragon, chopped (or 1 tsp dried)

• 1 tsp finely minced preserved lemon

• 1/4 tsp white pepper

• 1/2 tsp kosher salt

• 1 tbsp olive oil or butter

Method:

1. Simmer apricots in water or wine until softened and liquid is mostly absorbed (10–15 minutes).

2. In a separate saucepan, sauté shallots in olive oil or butter until translucent.

3. Add apricots, mustards, vinegar, honey, tarragon, preserved lemon, salt, and pepper.

4. Simmer until jammy and thickened, about 8–10 minutes.

5. Optional: pulse briefly in the food processor for a smoother texture. Chill and hold.

Garnishes & Final Build

Garnishes:

• Crispy shallot threads (fried until golden, salted)

• Micro tarragon or bronze fennel

Assembly:

1. Warm biscuit and slice in half.

2. Swipe apricot–tarragon jam on bottom half.

3. Place hot fried chicken thigh on top.

4. Add a second dot of jam.

5. Top with sunny side egg, yolk centered.

6. Finish with crispy shallots and micro tarragon.

7. Serve closed with a pick, or open-faced as a composed plate.
   

STOP DROWNING YOUR FOOD IN BOOZE

Listen up, kids. This is a kitchen, not a bar.
Adding alcohol doesn’t make your food fancier. It doesn’t make it “complex.” It doesn’t make it taste like a Michelin dish. If you’re not thinking it through, all you’re doing is giving bitterness a front-row seat and telling balance to go fuck itself.

Let’s break this down.

1. Alcohol is a tool, not a flavor.

Bourbon, wine, brandy, vermouth—these are ingredients, not shortcuts.
Used wrong, they add:

• Harsh bitterness

• Weird metallic notes

• Astringency

• Flat, burned sugar flavors with no backbone

If you want to use alcohol, ask:
What are you using it for? Deglazing? Caramel notes? Floral lift? Acidity? Answer that before you even reach for the bottle.

2. You must cook it off. FULL STOP.

You can’t dump wine into a sauce, swirl it once, and plate.
Alcohol needs time and heat to reduce—not just volume, but raw edge. That means:

• Deglaze early

• Reduce slowly

• Layer other flavors in after it mellows

And no, flambé isn’t a flex. It's for TV and trashy Instagram reels.

3. Balance or don’t bother.

If you add a bitter note (which alcohol is), you need to balance:

• Sweetness (shallot, honey, apple cider)

• Acidity (vinegar, citrus, tomato)

• Fat (butter, cream, yolk, marrow)

• Salt (not more sodium—smart salting)

• Aromatic counterpoints (thyme, bay, garlic, spice)

A good red wine reduction has all of those. A bad one tastes like licking a Merlot bottle in the parking lot.

4. You don’t even need booze.

Most of you throw it in because you don’t know how to build flavor.

• Deglaze with stock instead. Or vinegar. Or soy.

• You can get sweetness from root veg.

• Depth from char or umami.

• Acidity from fermentation or fruit.

If your dish is falling flat without alcohol, your foundations are broken—not your liquor cabinet.

5. Taste it. Every. Damn. Stage.

Don’t assume it’s “good” because you saw some guy with a neck tattoo drizzle whiskey into a demi on YouTube.
Taste it:

• Before the booze

• After it hits

• After reduction

• After balance

• Before it hits the plate

Train your palate, not your ego.

Final word: If it still smells like the bottle, you didn’t finish the dish.

Alcohol should disappear into the food—not sit on top of it.
If your sauce still tastes like a shot, congrats: you’ve made everyone’s dinner taste like Sunday morning regret.

Grow up. Cook with purpose. Use booze with discipline.
That’s the difference between a line cook and a chef.

You want to stand out? Learn restraint. That’s real firepower.

Open-Face Sardine Sandwich with Pickled Peppers, Onions & Toasted Sesame

I jarred the peppers and onions in late July,
sweating through my shirt,
hands stained from slicing and brining,
whispering you’ll need this when it gets dark again.

I didn’t know if I’d still be here to open the jar.

But winter came.
And so did I.

This sandwich is a spell.
A bite of sunlight pulled from vinegar and time.
A reminder that I once grew something,
saved it, and waited long enough
to taste it again.

Recipe
(Serves 1. Keeps the cold at bay.)

• 1 slice fermented rye or sourdough, pan-grilled in olive oil until crisp and golden

• Half a tin of sardines in olive oil

• Homemade pickled peppers and red onions (a bit of summer, bottled)

• 1 garlic clove, halved

• Lemon wedge

• Olive oil

• Sea salt & cracked pepper

• Toasted sesame seeds - just enough to feel cared for

Optional: a sprig of parsley or dusting of sumac
Optional: avocado smashed on the bread

Assembly
Rub the hot bread with garlic—slow and stubborn.
Lay down the sardines, whole and unapologetic.
Spoon on pickled peppers and onions—tangy, bright, sharp.
Add a squeeze of lemon, a drizzle of oil.
Season with salt, pepper, and toasted sesame seeds—that little crunch that says: I’m still here.

Eat standing up, by the window, while the wind scratches at the glass.

What I Put Away For Later

Pickled Peppers & Onions
For Cold Storage or Safe Canning

This is poetry with rules.
Because if you don’t get the acid right,
someone can get hurt.
And I’m not writing an elegy for a sandwich.

Yields: About 4–5 pint jars

Ingredients:

• 1½ to 2 lbs Anaheim chilies, washed and sliced into rings or strips

• 2 large Vidalia onions or red onions, slivered thin

• 3–5 carrots, peeled and cut into sticks (1–2 per jar)

• 4–6 garlic cloves, lightly crushed

• 4–5 bay leaves

• 1 tablespoon whole black peppercorns per jar

• 3 cups raw apple cider vinegar (at least 5% acidity – check the label)

• 3 cups filtered, non-chlorinated water

• 3 tablespoons kosher or sea salt (non-iodized)

• 2 tablespoons white sugar (optional)

• Sterile pint mason jars

• Fresh sterile lids and rings

Tongs, towel, ladle, clean workspace

Safety First:

• Your brine must contain at least 50% vinegar with 5% acidity.

• Do not reduce vinegar or salt if canning.

If not canning, store in the fridge and consume within 2 months.

Instructions:

1. Make the brine:
   In a stainless steel saucepan, combine the vinegar, water, salt, and sugar.
   Bring to a boil, stir to dissolve salt and sugar, and simmer gently. Keep warm.

2. Pack hot, sterile jars:
   Divide peppers, onions, carrots, garlic, bay leaves, and peppercorns evenly.
   Leave ½ inch headspace.

3. Add hot brine:
   Pour brine over vegetables, covering them fully while maintaining ½ inch headspace.
   Remove air bubbles with a non-metallic tool. Wipe jar rims and seal with lids and rings.

4. Processing Options:
   
   A. For shelf-stable canning:

• Process jars in a boiling water bath for 10 minutes (for pint jars).

• Remove and cool. Check seals after 12 hours.

• Store sealed jars in a cool, dark place for up to 12 months.
  

5. B. For refrigerator pickles (no canning):

• Let cool at room temperature.

• Store in the refrigerator.

• Allow to cure at least 3 days before eating. Use within 2 months.
  

Kitchen Note:

This isn’t a casual kind of magic.
It’s intention, science, and memory held in balance.
I don’t play loose when someone might open this jar
and trust what I made.

A good sandwich starts in summer.
With salt, acid, clean hands,
and the will to keep going
even when the cold’s still months away

Keys in a Winter Jar

A Midwestern creamed corn recipe, preserved with memory

Before this was ever written down, it was just something we did.

Late summer meant picking corn from my grandfather’s field. We’d load it into the bed of the pickup—full to overflowing—then ride home slow with the sun on our backs and dust rising behind us.

We’d sit in the shade, husking corn together. The kids on buckets. The aunties with knives, cutting the kernels off the cobs. And my grandmother at the stove, working from memory, not a recipe.

If we behaved, she’d give us a spoonful and ask, “Is it sweet enough?”

She could always tell by the way we smiled.

The cellar had dirt floors and smelled like aging potatoes, must, and time. Handmade shelves lined the walls, built from old barn wood. The jars were neatly stacked and labeled in her handwriting—“Corn, August ’82.” “Beets, July 79.” “Chow Chow 84.” “Tomatoes 77.”

Those shelves held summer in glass. More precious than jewels. More beautiful, too.

Yield 8-10 cups or 2-2.5 quart jars 

Ingredients

• 10–12 ears of sweet corn (or about 7–8 cups kernels)

• ½ cup unsalted butter

• 1 small yellow onion, grated or finely minced

• 1 Tbsp sugar (adjust to taste)

• 1 tsp kosher salt (or to taste)

• 2 cups whole milk

• 1½ cups heavy cream

• ¼ tsp white pepper

• ¼ tsp freshly grated nutmeg

• Optional: 2 oz cream cheese or mascarpone for added richness

• Optional: pinch of paprika or splash of vinegar for balance

• Optional: 2 Tbsp flour or cornstarch if freezing/canning for better texture

  Instructions

1. Cut the Corn
   Shuck the corn and remove the kernels. Scrape down the cobs to collect the corn milk—this adds flavor and body.

2. Start the Base
   In a large pot or Dutch oven, melt the butter over medium-low heat. Add the grated onion, sugar, and salt. Cook gently for about 10 minutes, stirring often, until the onion is soft and fragrant. Do not brown.

3. Add the Dairy
   Stir in the milk, cream, pepper, and nutmeg. Bring to a gentle simmer.

4. Add Corn
   Add the corn kernels and corn milk. Let it simmer, uncovered, for 25–30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until thickened and tender.

5. Finish & AdjustOptional: For a silkier texture, purée 1–2 cups of the corn mixture and return it to the pot.Optional: Stir in cream cheese or mascarpone at the end for added richness. Taste and adjust seasoning. Add a pinch of paprika or a splash of cider vinegar, if needed.
   

   To Preserve

   Canning
   Ladle hot corn mixture into sterilized pint jars, leaving 1-inch headspace.
   Pressure can at 10 lbs for 55 minutes (adjust for altitude).

   Freezing
   Let cool completely. Portion into freezer-safe bags or containers. Label and freeze flat for easy stacking.

   
   To Reheat in Winter

   Warm slowly on the stove with a splash of milk and a small knob of butter. Stir gently until heated through. Serve with roast chicken, pot roast, biscuits—or just by itself.

   This is comfort food, made with hands and seasons. It’s what you open when the snow is thick and the sky goes gray. It’s what you serve when you want to feel close to where you came from.
   

Argyle & Oak

The first time I tasted the idea behind this dish, I was standing in the back of a Texas kitchen beside a Vietnamese sous chef who barely spoke but carried the calm of someone who knew exactly when things were ready, brisket, tempers, you name it.

He smoked meat like it was meditation. Taught me, without saying a word, how patience could taste like lacquered bark and rendered fat. He used hoisin in his mop sauce, five-spice in his rub, and had a way of turning scraps into something sacred.

Years later, I lived off Argyle in Uptown Chicago. Right off the Red Line. Summer there smelled like grilled pork, garlic, and the distant brine of fish sauce wafting from pho shops and family kitchens. There was joy in the smoke. Stories in the air. I used to wander that street just to breathe it all in.

Somewhere between those two worlds, Texas oak and Vietnamese caramel, this dish was born.

It’s not fusion. It’s not some clever mash-up.
It’s what happens when you’ve lived enough to know that fire speaks many languages.
And that sweetness and char belong to all of us.

These burnt ends are a handshake between places, pork belly or brisket glazed in fermented bean curd, hoisin, and honey. Smoked slow. Glazed with fish sauce caramel until they sizzle and stick to your fingers. You eat them outdoors if you can. On a hot day. With cold beer. And someone nearby who knows the good parts are found in the silence, the scrap ends, and the waiting.

This one’s for him.
And for all the things we learn in kitchens that never make it onto paper—until now.

Char Siu-Style Burnt Ends

Target Cooked Yield: 3.75–4 lbs finished glazed product
Raw Weight Needed (with trim/yield loss): 6–7 lbs pork belly or brisket point

Meat Options

• Pork belly (skin off, center-cut, 1.5–2 inch strips)

• Brisket point (fat cap on, trimmed and cubed post-smoke)

Char Siu Marinade (24–48 hrs)

• 50g red fermented bean curd (with a touch of its brine)

• 60g hoisin sauce

• 45g honey

• 20g soy sauce

• 15g dark soy sauce

• 15g Shaoxing wine

• 10g five-spice powder

• 25g minced garlic

• 20g grated ginger

• Optional: 5g white pepper or Korean chili flakes for heat

Blend all marinade ingredients until smooth.

Toss pork belly or brisket thoroughly in marinade. Place in a non-reactive container or vacuum bag. Marinate under refrigeration for 24–48 hours.

Smoking

• Wood: Oak with cherry or apple

• Temp: 250°F smoker

• Time: 3–4 hours until internal temp hits ~185°F and bark is formed

• Optional wrap for moisture: butcher paper after 2–2.5 hrs, if bark is set

Remove from the smoker, rest 15–20 minutes, then cut into 1.5-inch cubes (if brisket). Pork belly may stay whole for glazing or be portioned before.

Vietnamese Caramel Fish Sauce

• 100g sugar

• 50g water (initial)

• 30g warm water (to stop caramel)

• 15g fish sauce

• 10g tamarind concentrate or paste

• Optional: small squeeze of lime juice

Caramelize sugar and initial water in a saucepan until deep amber. Carefully deglaze with warm water to stop cooking (stand back). Stir in fish sauce and tamarind. Reduce slightly if needed. The glaze should coat the back of a spoon.

Glazing

Return meat to a shallow hotel pan or grill-safe tray. Toss gently with glaze. Finish on hot grill, salamander, or 450°F oven until edges sizzle and lacquer. Turn and baste once or twice. Hold warm and glazed for immediate service, or chill and reheat gently with extra glaze before plating.