1/2 teaspoon pepper
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
4 thick pork loin boneless chops, butterflied and pounded thin
2 sleeves saltines
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 cups oil
1/2 cup mayonnaise
4 hamburger buns
12 dill pickle chips
In a 9x13-inch baking dish, stir together the buttermilk, salt, pepper, cayenne and garlic powder. Place the pork chops in the buttermilk, cover with plastic wrap and marinate overnight in the refrigerator. In a large resealable bag, add in saltines and flour. Close bag and pound with meat mallet or rolling pin until saltines are coarse crumbs. Heat oil in a large iron skillet over high heat to 365 degrees. Remove the pork from the buttermilk and dredge in the saltine crumbs. Fry two chops at a time in the oil until golden brown and internal temperature is 145 degrees. About 3 minutes per side. Remove from grease and drain on paper towels. Spread mayonnaise on each bun, top with 3 pickle chips each and fried pork. Enjoy!
KA Note: Full disclosure, Suzanne isn’t just a fantastic cook, she’s a friend. And somewhere in our conversations, I must have mentioned to her that this was my mother’s favorite sandwich. It’s a favorite of mine too. It’s also an Indiana staple. I honestly haven’t seen this anywhere else but in restaurants in Indiana. I crave it, and when I go home, I make certain to get one.
Never, as in never, when this was on a menu, did my mother pass it up.
When Suzanne sent the recipes for this cookbook, she’d added this as a gift to me.
As my mom has passed and I loved her beyond reason, obviously, this undid me.
Best. Gift. Ever.
And now, Suzanne, who never met my mom, and I get to give a little of my mom to you.
See?
Best.
Gift.
Ever.
Click here to return to the table of contents.
Fried Corn
(Kristen’s Version)
1 shit ton of butter
1 bag frozen corn
Salt and Pepper
If the world smiles on you, you own a cast iron skillet.
Get that puppy out.
If not, grab your normal skillet.
In it, dump the butter. I’d say start with a full stick (half cup). Have more ready. Get it melting on medium heat. Once that stick is nearly melted, pour in the bag of frozen corn. The whole bag. Frozen. Normally, I use yellow corn. Sometimes, when I’m feeling fancy, I use white. If the family’s over, I use both because everyone eats the crap out of this (by everyone, that means my sister, brother, and me, because we grew up on it), so we need a lot of it.
Season with salt and pepper. Stir. Don’t have the heat too hot, though you can go low if you want to keep this going while you do other things. Intermittently move the corn around the skillet. As the butter is absorbed and starts sticking to the pan, you might need to add in more globs.
No, this is not healthy. At all.
The end of this process is hotly debated. My sister, Erika, feels this is done when the corn has absorbed all the butter, is slick and shiny and cooked through. I, on the other hand, like the butter browned on the corn and the whole lot is a bit sticky and messy. Our brother, Gib, falls in between.
You do you.
KA Note: When I was growing up, our cast iron skillet never left the stove. We cooked everything in that. And fried corn, cheap as chips, was a delicacy. It’s ridiculously delicious. Everyone in our family loved it. I know no other household on several continents that cooks corn this way. Anytime I introduce it to newbies, people think I’m mad. Probably because people aren’t fans of courting impromptu, food-induced heart attacks.
Those people didn’t grow up in Indiana.
Click here to return to the table of contents.
Something Special, The End
When I pull myself together, Axl gets me a tissue. I wipe my face, hope my mascara isn’t a disaster, and ask the inevitable questions.
“What’s your favorite recipe?”
“Tuscan Chicken,” he answers.
“What’s Hattie’s?” I ask.
“The Mexican Street Corn deviled eggs.”
“Of course,” I murmur, glancing away.
“I’m happy, babe,” he says.
And I look back, right into Axl’s ice-blue eyes.
“Forever and always, I’ll be happy,” he whispers.
It’s trembling, but I smile at him.
And Axl, my Axl, smiles back at me.
Chapter Seven
All on My Side
KA
Forty-five minutes later…
In the time since being at Axl’s to now, where I’m sitting on the brick, back patio at Auggie’s house, I’ve discovered the worst.
My mascara was ruined during my crying jag.
Insult to injury, I didn’t bring a tube for touch-ups.
But, who would ever think a commando would make me cry?
Okay, maybe that was stupid. I’ve found they do that to women, and not in bad ways.
Though (and not only because I have no choice), I prefer to focus on the good.
Pork rind nachos.
And the better.
Mo has joined us.
Mo is Lottie’s man.
As mentioned, Lottie is Jet’s sister.
And Jet is the Rock Chick whose story is told in the second Rock Chick book.
Are you getting how I can’t let go of my people?
All the guys are tall.
Mag is very tall.
Mo is gargantuan.
He’s also bald, built big, solid and tough, and has a mug many might think is frightening.
But I know his gentle soul.
So I know he’s beautiful.
“I wanna hear about this private meeting between you and Kit,” Auggie says to Axl.
“The operative word in that, the word that means you’re not gonna hear shit, is ‘private,’” Axl points out.
I say nothing, mostly because I’m shoving pork rind nachos into my gob.
Boone is studying Axl closely. “What needs to be private?”
“Do you men not understand the word ‘private’?” Mag asks.
“We don’t have any secrets between us,” Boone states.
Mo grunts.
It’s a grunt, but it says a lot.
Then again, Mo isn’t a big talker, so those who know him can read a lot into the little he gives.
“You’ve got secrets?” Auggie asks Mo.
“Everyone has secrets,” Axl says.
“I don’t have any secrets,” Auggie returns to Axl.
Mag coughs and the word “Bullshit,” comes out when he does.
“Fuck off,” Auggie shoots at Mag.
“I’ll fuck off after you fuck off with being such a goddamn nose,” Mag retorts.
Mo grunts again but this time a word is formed from it.
“Men.”
They shut up.
God, but I dig these dudes.
Even if Mo has effectively ended it, I can see that Boone and Aug aren’t big fans of not knowing what’s going on with something in which they’re involved.
So I wade in.
“Uh, you boys do know that you’ll find out what happened with Axl and me when the book is published.”
“I’m not reading this book,” Auggie says.
“Me either,” Mag adds.
“Nope,” Boone puts in.
“Negatory,” Axl finishes it.
Um.
Excuse me?
“But…why?” I ask.
They all just stare at me.
Mo lifts a big mitt, reaches out to me and squeezes my shoulder.
“Don’t worry, babe, I’m totally gonna read it,” he says.
I shoot him a smile. “Thanks, Mo.”
On this, the back door to Auggie’s duplex (which I have recently discovered is my duplex, a duplex I gave to I
ndy for her book and a duplex Indy and Lee sold to Auggie recently) opens and a Black woman in a V-necked, body-hugging dress of orange and white stripes that run this way and that, steps out.
She does this on a pair of fabulous, spike-heeled orange strappy sandals.
And she does it carrying a scrapbook.
Nope.
The scrapbook.
“Did I not make it clear when the pork rinds come out, a phone call is made to me?” Elvira, Hawk’s office manager and general chick-you-wanna-know demands.
She then clicks and clacks to Auggie’s outdoor table and drops Tod’s Wedding Planner Scrapbook on it.
“You left this at Fortnum’s,” she announces to Mag.
“Well, that tactic didn’t work,” Axl says to Mag under his breath.
“No, it didn’t,” Elvira agrees. “And pullin’ that shit, I had a chance to peruse. I made notes for Evie. My stickies are the ones shaped like a star.” After delivering that, she turns to me. “Hey, girl.”
“Uh, hey,” I reply.
“You the cookbook queen?” she asks.
“Well, no. Suzanne, my partner in this project, is. I’m just writing the narrative.”
“Mm-hmm,” she hums then turns to Auggie and notes, “I’m still standing.”
“Vira, this is our thing with Kit,” Auggie replies.
Elvira says nothing, she just holds his gaze.
“For fuck’s sake,” Auggie says, getting up, offering his chair to her, and then prowling off, presumably to find another seat for himself.
He does this heading to the house, so Elvira takes that opportunity to seat herself at the same time shouting, “I eat these nachos, I’ll need a drink. And I am eating these nachos.”
“On it,” Aug says, waving his hand in the air and not looking back as he enters his home.
Elvira reaches for a pork rind, asking me, “This gonna be a steamy cookbook?”
“So far, yes,” I tell her.
A variety of heavy sighs sound from around me.
But Mo chuckles again.
“Got no choice with these boys,” she mumbles. “All testosterone and gunpowder.”
Another chuckle from Mo.
And another sigh from Boone.
“Who are we up to?” she asks.
“We were about to get into Auggie,” I say.
She munches her nacho, swallows, and replies, “Perfect timing, then. Also, don’t let me leave without giving you instructions on one of my boards.”
Oh.
My.
Gawd.
“Seriously?” I ask.
“Seriously,” she answers.
I lean toward her and breathe, “I would love that.”
She shrugs. “No problem, babe. Got it all ready for you.”
And she reaches for another nacho.
Auggie
One week earlier…
When his woman walked into his kitchen, her eyes were sleepy but warm, and they were doing a thing they did often when she discovered them together.
They were losing the battle to take in her daughter and her man all at the same time.
She was up from a nap because she always ran herself ragged.
But she was also a mother, so she didn’t stay hazy for long.
And this time was no exception.
“What on earth?” she asked.
“Momma!” Juno cried, whirling from the counter where they were just finishing up what was in the pan. “Auggie and me are making Chocolate Butter Bars!”
“I see that,” Pepper murmured as she walked to them. “And it kinda scares me.”
“It shouldn’t,” Juno returned. “Auggie and me dreamed it up, ran to the store and got all the goods, came back, put it together, and I know when it’s all baked it…is gonna…be…yum.”
Aug watched as she slid her arm around her daughter’s shoulders, bent to kiss the top of Juno’s hair, and said there, “Looks like it can’t not be.”
Juno tipped her head back to look up at her mother.
“I know, right? Sugar cookie dough, brownies and Nutter Butters. I mean, whaaaaaaaat?”
Pepper smiled at her girl.
Aug’s heart squeezed.
“Gotta put these in, honey,” he broke into their convo. “You wanna do it, or you want me to?”
“I’ll do it!” Juno said excitedly.
“Right, oven’s ready,” he told her.
Juno broke from her mom, grabbed the pan, and even though she wasn’t too young, she also wasn’t very old, so both Aug and Pepper watched closely as she carefully slid it in the oven.
Once she closed the door, she whirled on them and declared, “Thirty-five minutes and then…ecstasy.”
Pepper laughed.
Auggie chuckled.
“Will you set your phone, Auggie?” Juno asked.
“Definitely, sweetheart,” Aug answered, reaching to the counter to nab it.
“Since you’re not on the couch anymore, I’m gonna go watch TV. Is that okay, Momma?” Juno queried.
That didn’t make Aug’s heart squeeze.
It made his gut tense.
“Sure, baby,” Pepper said softly.
“Cool,” Juno replied, then she was off.
She was a good kid. Sweet. Polite. Funny. Respectful. Full of personality.
But she was careful.
Too careful.
And the polite and respectful she often took to extremes.
That was about her shitheel of a dad.
And maybe the lunatics that made up the rest of Pepper’s family.
“It’s okay, she’s back with us, she’ll settle in.”
Auggie stopped looking at the door Juno disappeared through and turned his attention to his woman.
“It pisses me off,” he told her something she already knew.
“I know,” she confirmed. “Set your timer, baby.”
He looked down, engaged his phone, and set the timer.
When he was done, he had both of Pepper’s arms around his middle with her pressing up against him.
So he slid an arm around her shoulders.
Christ, she smelled good.
He looked into her face.
And fuck, she was gorgeous.
“She’s back with us,” she repeated softly. “And she can be herself with me and you. Just Juno. All Juno. You give her that, Auggie. She’s safe here and she knows it. And that’s not only the best we can do, it means a lot to Juno.”
That didn’t make it piss him off any less.
But he didn’t share that.
He said, “Yeah.”
She pressed closer. “Thank you for giving that to my girl, baby.”
He squeezed her around her shoulders as he engaged his other arm to curl it around her back, using both to pull her even closer.
“It’s me who should be thanking you.”
She smiled up at him, some of the sleep still in her eyes, the warmth definitely there, but magnified.
“When we make our babies, Auggie, you’ll understand. I love you said that, but with what you give my baby, the gratitude is all on my side.”
Pretty much everything she said meant he had no choice.
So he bent his head and kissed her.
Hard and wet.
Recipes from the Kitchen of Auggie Hero
Auggie’s Appetizers
Pimento Cheese Hushpuppies with Blueberry Pepper Jelly
1 (8 ounce) package hushpuppy mix
1/4 cup diced onion
3/4 cup milk
1/2 cup Pimento Cheese (Click here for recipe.)
oil for frying
In a medium bowl, combine hushpuppy mix, onions, and milk. Allow to sit for 10 minutes, then stir in Pimento Cheese. Drop the batter, in tablespoon-sized balls, into oil that has been heated to 350 degrees. Fry for 1 minute on each side. Drain on paper towels. Serve with Blueberry Pepper Jelly. (Click here for recipe.)
Pimento Cheese
1 (4 ounce) jar pimen
tos, not drained
8 ounces shredded sharp cheddar (yellow)
8 ounces shredded sharp cheddar (white)
1 tablespoon garlic powder
1 cup mayonnaise
Mix all ingredients and refrigerate for at least an hour before serving.
Blueberry Pepper Jelly
2 cups fresh jalapeños, pureed
2 cups fresh blueberries
5 cups sugar
1 cup apple cider vinegar
1 (3 ounce) pouch liquid pectin
12 (4 ounce) jelly jars or 6 (8 ounce) jelly jars
In a large saucepan, mix first four ingredients together and bring to a rolling boil. Allow to boil for 10 minutes. While the mixture is still boiling, add the liquid pectin and stir continuously for 1 minute. Then, ladle the mixture into the jelly jars, leaving 1/2 inch headspace. Apply caps and let jelly stand in refrigerator until set, about 12 hours, or transfer to a pressure cooker to seal for a longer shelf life. If you are not using a pressure cooker to seal the jars, the jam must stay refrigerated. Refrigerated jams are good for about 3 months. Sealed jars have a shelf life of about 18 months to two years.
KA Note: My first introduction to Suzanne—the person and her cooking—was at a 1,001 Dark Nights party at an industry event in Atlanta. And that introduction was Suzanne’s pepper jelly.
Suffice it to say, I parked my ass close to the platter with this jelly, cheese and crackers and didn’t move for a good long while.
That was several years ago.
To this day, I do not exist without more than one jar of this jelly (just pepper, or blueberry and pepper, or whatever she dreams up to add to the pepper) in my cupboard. I use it for a recipe Suzanne gave me that we’ll include below with Elvira’s board. I use it for a recipe from Suzanne and Lexi Blake’s Master Bits and Mercenary Bites cookbook. And I panic if I start to run low.
I might learn one day not to panic.
Suzanne always takes care of me.
Dream Bites Cookbook: Cooking with the Commandos Page 8