The tangy, sweet, spicy, crunchy relish that rules Southern kitchens
Granny seemed to always have something cooking. Pulling open the squeaky screen door to her kitchen was like opening a gift. Some days I would be greeted with the glorious aroma of pan-fried chicken livers and cat-head buttermilk biscuits cooked up in her favorite Ovenex baking pan.
Other days I would be greeted with a simmering pot of pillowy light drop-dumplings suspended in a thick, almost gravy-like broth with chunks of juicy, poached chicken (that’s chicken and dumplings for the Southern-food impaired)
Frequently, there would be a pot of turnip greens simmering away with a palm-sized chunk of fat-back peeking through the murky green surface. Before the kitchen door even opened, I knew that either a “mess o’ greens” were cooking or granny forgot to take her Beeno because that infamous, mildly sulphurous smell would assault my nose with its greeting-cum-warning of what was to come.
I ate a lot of turnip greens growing up, but rarely ate them by themselves. Vinegar, hot sauce, and even ketchup (don’t knock it until you’ve tried it) were frequently sprinkled onto a pile of greens to not only help counter the bitterness, but to also add complexity to their naturally deep flavor. But the thing I loved to add to my greens the most was kept in the door of the fridge in an unmarked jar. This yellowish-colored, tangy, sweet, spicy, and crunchy relish was granny’s homemade version of what Southerner’s know as chow chow.
Long before the first self-righteous wellness blogger squirted lemon juice on kale and a century before perky-breasted food network hosts marveled at tongue exciting combinations of bitter, sour, sweet, and spicy, Southerners were adding chow chow to their greens.
In late fall and winter, the typical diet of the pre-supermarket Southerner was a bit monotonous—salt pork, dried beans, winter greens and maybe cornbread if you were lucky. Chow chow allowed flavor-thirsty Southerners to spice up their greens with a hit of bitter, sour, sweet, and spicy by adding just a dollop of this multi-purpose condiment.
In the past, virtually every family across the South had their own, slightly unique recipe for chow chow—some were spicy, some were sweet, some went heavy on the tomatoes, while others were all about cabbage and onion. Chow chow can now be found in most Southern supermarkets, but the best recipes are the ones handed down from grandparents and made at home.
A few chow chow recipes had their origins in the peppery sauces brought over by Chinese railroad workers in the 19th century, but most had their origins in the practical realities of the seasons.
Chow chow is an “end-of-the-season” relish that was traditionally made from whatever vegetables that were left in the garden that would be killed by the first frost, usually green tomatoes and late harvest vegetables like peppers, onions and cabbage.
Other parts of the country have a relative of chow chow called piccalilli, but do not be fooled. This is a sweeter, pickle-style relish with roots in Indian pickle relishes. Sure it’s tasty on a Chicago-style hot dog, but it’s no chow chow and don’t let anyone try to tell you otherwise.
Southern chow chow can be used on pulled pork, hot dogs, hamburgers, black-eyed peas or even as a side dish on its own, but I am especially partial to eating it on turnip greens. My granny’s recipe is below—make it your own and make it often.
Granny’s Chow Chow
Ingredients
- 1 ½ cups diced red bell pepper
- 1 ½ cups diced green bell pepper
- 2 cups diced green tomatoes
- 2 cups diced sweet onion
- 1 cup diced green cabbage
- 1 tbsp kosher salt
- ¾ cup granulated sugar
- ¼ cup water
- ¾ tsp dry mustard
- 1 tsp mustard seed
- ½ tsp turmeric
- 1 ½ tsp red pepper flakes
- ¼ tsp celery seed
- ½ tsp ginger
- ½ cup apple cider vinegars
Directions
- Bring salt, sugar, water and all of the spices to a simmer in a large non-reactive skillet (reacive tmetals like aluminum and copper can impart a metallic taste and discolor your chow chow).
- Add vinegar and bring to a boil.
- Add all of the vegetables.
- Stir to ensure the vegetables are thoroughly coated with the spice mixture, reduce heat to medium and continue to cook for 5-10 minutes, stirring frequently, until the vegetables are tender.
- Transfer to glass jars and refrigerate.
- Your chow chow will keep in the refrigerator for 2-3 weeks.
Mike McJunkin is a native Chattanoogan currently living abroad who has trained chefs, owned and operated restaurants. Join him on Facebook at facebook.com/SushiAndBiscuits