Back in the days when we probably still weren't grownups, we vacationed in Corolla, North Carolina on a split of land where the ocean lulled us to sleep every night, no matter what happened during the day. In the earliest of those days, the family of Gary's college roommate had a house just down the blacktop street from us. Really, it was a lovely cottage, in the best sense of the word, with a screened-in porch facing the dunes and the waves. Dave's mom had an open-door policy, and I'd often walk the beach, climb the steps up and over their high dune line, and knock on the porch door to see if anyone was home. When someone was, we'd sit on the porch or the hanging swing with a glass of tea and shoot the breeze. I know now that I wanted to be part of that family, especially on the nights we visited for a clam feast, when the small kitchen would be overrun by perspiring chefs, when the dining table would be covered with newspaper, when beer and salt and butter coated our sunburned lips. My children learned to eat clams there, Laura, Andy, and Rachel piling their paper plates high with sprung-open shells first and then later with steamed shrimp.
I think I wanted to belong to Dave's mom mostly, this generous-spirited woman who would talk books and words with me, spinning away beach afternoons and evenings on her porch. I think I sometimes didn't want to go back to our house, a place I wasn't sure I fit into the larger scheme of things, a house larger and grander than the cottage down the way, with people who often didn't get me. In the long run, she lost her Dave too early, but not before he'd shaken hands with loss a few times himself.
Usually, I'd cook dinner for our friends, a high-calorie mess of seafood, cream, and pasta. This dinner involved a trip to our local seafood stand after a trip to Tommy's Market, about 20 minutes away in Duck. Tommy's was pricey, but it stocked those lovely vacation foods that we craved--salty, fresh-boiled peanuts, fancy potato salads, and bottles of clear white wine. I'd wheel the mini cart through the tiny store, overloading the basket with homemade pasta, cheese wedges, and blueberry pie. At the prepared foods counter, I always grabbed a large container of pimento cheese spread. This spread was so unlike the small jars I could find at home, this one containing thick shreds of cheese in a garlicky dressing. For as long as I could remember, my mother'd longingly described the pimento cheese spread of her southern youth. "Mom," I told her through the phone. "Tommy's Market has it!"
Little did I know that making Tommy's Market quality pimento cheese spread was so easy. And, so it goes...some things turn out to be easier than others.
If you have ten minutes, you can have pimento cheese spread, which will make your day a better one, I promise. This recipe is mighty comforting. I'll do a throw down with Tommy's Market if they'll agree to it.
Here's what you need:
- 1 pound shredded cheddar cheese. (I buy a block and shred it myself. Do it...you'll be glad when the fresh cheese curls melt in your mouth...just watch your knuckles!)
- 1/2 red onion, grated (Do yourself a favor and buy a hand-held grater. You can lay it across the bowl and grate directly into the mixture. Don't chop or mince the onion--you want the shreds to curl up against the cheese.)
- 2 garlic cloves, grated. (I use my micro planer for this...I saw Rachel Ray grate her garlic this way a couple of years ago, and I've never gone back to the dicing or smashing method. This way, the garlic melts into the mixture, rather than popping up in hard pieces.)
- 1 4-oz. jar of pimentos, drained and chopped. (I bought mine in strips, so that I could chop mine a little larger than the small dice of the jarred version.)
- 1-2 teaspoons of Worcestershire sauce, depending on taste. (I used two.)
- 1 to 1 1/2 cups mayonnaise, depending on the creaminess factor you want. (I'm an eyeballer, folks. It's hard for me to give exact measurements, so I suggest starting with one cup, and then adding a little more at a time, if you like. Also, use the good mayo. There's no way to lighten a dish that already has a pound of cheese in it.)
- Sea salt and freshly ground pepper to taste. (Yes, ma'am, I'm an eyeballer, all right.)
- Mix together, and eat. (I guess the pimento cheese purists would advise refrigerating for an hour, but those of us, who can't help ourselves, we eat it right out of the bowl.)
