Pimiento Cheese

I think the first time I realized that there are some distinct differences in cuisine among the various regions of the United States was in 1995 when my roommate had to mail care packages that included boxes of instant grits to her boyfriend who'd gotten transferred to Michigan. He'd gone to the grocery store to get some upon his arrival only to be disappointed that the employees had never heard of such a thing.

Even now, I still get a little surprised by some of the cuisine that I grew up with that's fairly confined to the region. I only recently discovered that pimiento cheese was considered a Southern delicacy. What, Yankees don't know how to mix together some cheese and sweet peppers to make a spread? What's wrong with them? I kid, of course. The funny thing is that my mother does not like pimiento cheese [spread], so we never had it at home. My beloved grandmother loved it, though so it was a real treat for me to get to eat it during visits to my mother's family in Paris, Tennessee. I still remember my mother grimacing at us while we ate pimiento cheese sandwiches (on white bread, naturally). I think it's because my mother hates mayonnaise (she only eats Miracle Whip--yuck).

Its status as a southern delicacy makes pimiento cheese sandwiches a staple at local restaurants that appeal to the "ladies who lunch" crowd. While I am a female and do like to eat lunch, I don't count myself as a lady who lunches, but I sure enjoy their restaurants. Last week, I met a friend at Bridges on White Bridge Road, a cafe that serves breakfast, lunch and takeaway that's inside Belle Meade Drugs (more info here). The pimiento cheese is good, though the consistency is a little different than what I'm used to. The cheese they use is "finely shredded" instead of grated, but the taste of the mix is very good. I like that I could have it on wheat bread as well and with a slice of tomato and some leafy green lettuce. They scored points with the leafy green lettuce; iceberg lettuce has no purpose in this world. It is the cockroach of lettuces. They probably use the finely shredded cheese because it's likely they can't let the cheese sit out for the compulsory half hour to get the mix at room temperature and the cheese at a smoother texture since that's just inviting bacteria and a reprimand from the health department, so I'd say that was a good call on their part.

I'd read some complaints about the service at the cafe, but though the food itself took a while to arrive at our table (my dining companion ordered a Reuben), the server was sweet and earnest and made sure we had water, so I have no complaints about having to wait a bit to get food. Incidentally, I ordered the pasta salad for my side dish with the sandwich and that's the source of my only complaint. I found pepperoni in it. As I've said many times, eating at restaurants can be a bit like walking through a minefield for a vegetarian. You never know when you're going to stumble upon critter bits in your food. Next time, I'll get the fruit salad instead.

All that said, here's a simple pimiento cheese [spread] recipe like my grandmother used to make:
1/2 pound/2 cups/8 ounces sharp cheddar cheese, grated
1/4 cup mayonnaise (or less if you don't want it too creamy)
1/4 cup (1 small jar) sliced pimientos with the juice

Mix together all the ingredients and season to taste with salt, cayenne pepper, paprika, and/or black pepper (whatever you like, but my grandmother only used salt). You can even add a little lemon juice for some zest.

I remember very distinctly that one of my grandmother's sisters made pimiento cheese sandwiches (on white bread, cut into quarters) and brought them to the funeral home for me (and, I guess other family members--ahem) to eat during the visitation when my grandmother passed away in 1990. She must've known that it was something my grandmother and I shared. Or maybe it was just because it's a (Southern) comfort food staple. Either way, I really enjoyed those sandwiches.