There is always time for a traditional pimento cheese sandwich
From the 1950s to the 1970s, America’s kitchens descended into a dark and confusing time where tradition was being cast aside and mutant food creations were being spawned in the name of culinary creativity.
Hollandaise covered bananas wrapped in ham, seafood Jell-O, and liver sausage pineapples were hot dinner party items and unsuspecting mouths from sea to shining sea were being subjected to these Moreauesque lusus naturae creations.
I remember being fascinated by the more outrageous recipes and combinations, but when a tray lined with pimento cheese stuffed celery sticks appeared on our dining room table, a profound sense of disappointment washed over me like the coming Santa revelation. In my pre-teen mind, pimento cheese was a sacred part of the Southern sandwich canon and pairing it with celery was akin to putting Easy Cheese on communion wafers.
I steadfastly maintained that no sandwich spread could be more Southern or more delicious than this divinely-inspired amalgamation of shredded cheese, lightly flavored peppers, and mayonnaise whose destiny was to be spread on white bread and eaten wherever sweet tea and Southern drawls could be found.
So you can imagine how I was shaken to my very core when I learned that this Southern classic has its roots in New York. Yes, New York. I’ll give you a moment to compose yourself.
The first versions of pimento cheese were a trendy and expensive treat that was sold in tinfoil wrapped blocks or appeared at cocktail or tea parties as finger sandwiches of plain cream cheese (or Neufchâtel) and diced pimentos on crustless white bread.
These original recipes were concocted by Northern food manufacturers and cookbook writers who sought new ways to combine two newly-available products: cream cheese from New York and canned pimentos imported from Spain
Imported Spanish pimentos were an expensive but in-demand delicacy, so farmers with the Georgia Experiment Station began cultivating pimentos and even invented a roasting machine that made peeling the peppers easier.
By the late ‘30s Georgia was producing 10 million cans of pimentos per year and a nationwide pimento cheese boom resulted.
After World War II, the pimento cheese craze faded, but Southerners began to make the spread from scratch. The availability of cheap, semi-firm “hoop cheese” and canned Georgia pimentos in country stores around the region meant that home cooks could replace cream cheese with the firmer hoop cheeses, bind it together with mayonnaise, throw in some pimentos and have a delicious, easy to make sandwich spread.
Today, the three core ingredients of Southern pimento cheese remain unchanged (cheese, mayo, pimentos), but sharp cheddar cheese has become the choice of pimento cheese connoisseurs all over the South (sharp cheddar has slightly less moisture than regular, important for achieving the right texture).
A good, Southern pimento cheese should taste mostly like cheddar cheese and there should only be enough mayonnaise to bind the spread together and make it creamy. If you want to stick to classic, Southern pimento cheese orthodoxy, don’t use any mayo other than homemade or Duke’s. Sorry, I don’t make the rules, I just follow them.
Beyond the holy trinity of ingredients, every family recipe includes a “secret” ingredient such as a splash of Tabasco or a pinch of cayenne. But the basic recipe is a classic for a reason and the addition of unapproved outside ingredients is blasphemous to true Southern pimento cheese believers.
For example, pseudo-folksy television personality the “Pioneer Woman” claims, “You can add whatever your heart tells you [to pimento cheese]—anything from sliced green onions to chopped black or green olives to sundried tomatoes.”
This counterfeit Southern Living nonsense has to stop. Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.
A good Southern pimento cheese is all about the cheese and creamy texture—if you start adding in competing flavors like olives, kombucha, or beard trimmings your Southerner card will be revoked until you can atone for your pimento cheese sins.
Roasted red peppers instead of pimentos or finely grated Vidalia onion can be acceptable add-ins, but these are flavors that complement the cheese rather than compete with it. The best advice is to learn to walk before you run, starting with a classic Southern recipe like the one I’ve provided below. As Grandpa Jones would say: “There ain’t nothin’ better.”
Classic Southern Pimento Cheese
- 1 lb sharp cheddar cheese, grated
- 1 cup mayonnaise (homemade or Dukes preferred)
- 1 7-oz jar pimentos, drained and finely diced
- Dash of Tabasco
Directions
- Mix cheese, mayonnaise, hot sauce, pimentos, and cayenne together until thoroughly combined.
- Serve.
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