A week or two after this global horror show was officially dubbed a pandemic, I had my last drink in a crowded bar. The Ordinary Pub is an antebellum cellar in the young and beating heart of Savannah, Georgia. It’s dark as a coffin, has low ceilings, lots of wood and thick stone, and was filled with drunk tourists and hipsters. There were no confirmed Covid cases anywhere, yet, along the Georgia seashore, but the atmosphere that night was intoxicatingly fraught.
We were too old and uncomfortable to be there at all, but the bartender was letting me sample a brown drink I had watched him pour from a Cambro through a thick cheesecloth filter and into a half gallon jug labelled with a short piece of masking tape. The label read BUTT BRB. I imagined a bumper sticker from a town known for its large, triangular citizens. It was the most thoroughly southern bit of food preparation I’d seen in our visit thus far.
Buttered bourbon turned out to be made by lightly browning butter, putting it in bourbon, and letting it sit for a week. I got a nice sample for being curious and appreciative. It was a straight-up corn whisky with a lathery richness at the back of the tongue, like eating a nice piece of toast. It also became the nightcap to both our last vacation and the pre-pandemic lifestyle.
Most of a frustrating year later I poured a handle of Old Forester into my own Cambro bucket, added a half-pound of butter sautéed to a summery tan and about four cups of fresh popcorn. After a week I filtered it out and decided to add about a teaspoon of caramelized sugar. A flask of Karmelkorn bourbon was the prize you got for daring to drop off your own holiday greetings in person, or for inviting us to eat appetizers around a freezing fire pit.
But this is really about the butter. Skimmed out, remelted and filtered to get rid of the popcorn dust, the butter was still a lot more bourbony than the bourbon was buttery. It gradually got used in pie crusts and the like but the real prize was to melt the last two tablespoons and make a shrimp chowder.
The corn, the shrimp, the bourbon sweetness; the southern richness of it all, like creamy shrimp and grits. Over a few iterations it wandered further and further south, incorporating sweet potatoes and cubes of celery root. It’s sweetly sad and delicious, like the memory of a vacation you can’t take any more.
Bourbon Shrimp Chowder
A luxurious shrimp chowder laced with hard liquor, sweet potatoes and celery root.
Peel the shrimp. Put the shells in a medium pot with 2 cups of water, the bay leaf, peppercorns and coriander. Bring to a brisk boil and cook down for about ten minutes, until reduced to a half cup, then set aside. In the meantime, chop the shrimp by first slicing them in half the long way, then crosswise into two or three pieces.
Prep and dice all the vegetables. Melt the butter in a large, heavy saucepan and saute the onions, celery, celery root and sweet potato over medium high heat until the onions are translucent and the cubed celery root just lightly browned. Add the bourbon, 1/2 cup of water, corn and salt. Bring to a boil and cook down until the vegetables are tender. There will just be a few tablespoons of liquid left (if that).
Strain the shrimp stock into the pot through a fine sieve. Add the shrimp and the heavy cream and bring just to a simmer over medium heat, stirring frequently. It's done when the shrimp are cooked through and the creamy broth is just at a simmer. Taste for salt and season, if you like, with a bit of white pepper and nutmeg.
Gratuities
The sweetness of the sauteed sweet potato and celery root, along with the rich cream, make this a luxury item. The shrimp stock and bourbon add a lot, but you could easily substitute any brown liquor, including rum, and expect things to work out. I garnished with fresh dill.
I generally buy 16-20 size shrimp, shell on and slit down the back - a style called EZ-Peel. They're too big for a single bite, and I am a fiend for cutting them in half the long way for most dishes. I first noticed this technique in Thai and Vietnamese restaurants - it makes the shrimp curl up into random, tortuous shapes I find attractive, as if they suffered for beauty.
Ingredients
Directions
Peel the shrimp. Put the shells in a medium pot with 2 cups of water, the bay leaf, peppercorns and coriander. Bring to a brisk boil and cook down for about ten minutes, until reduced to a half cup, then set aside. In the meantime, chop the shrimp by first slicing them in half the long way, then crosswise into two or three pieces.
Prep and dice all the vegetables. Melt the butter in a large, heavy saucepan and saute the onions, celery, celery root and sweet potato over medium high heat until the onions are translucent and the cubed celery root just lightly browned. Add the bourbon, 1/2 cup of water, corn and salt. Bring to a boil and cook down until the vegetables are tender. There will just be a few tablespoons of liquid left (if that).
Strain the shrimp stock into the pot through a fine sieve. Add the shrimp and the heavy cream and bring just to a simmer over medium heat, stirring frequently. It's done when the shrimp are cooked through and the creamy broth is just at a simmer. Taste for salt and season, if you like, with a bit of white pepper and nutmeg.
Gratuities
The sweetness of the sauteed sweet potato and celery root, along with the rich cream, make this a luxury item. The shrimp stock and bourbon add a lot, but you could easily substitute any brown liquor, including rum, and expect things to work out. I garnished with fresh dill.
I generally buy 16-20 size shrimp, shell on and slit down the back - a style called EZ-Peel. They're too big for a single bite, and I am a fiend for cutting them in half the long way for most dishes. I first noticed this technique in Thai and Vietnamese restaurants - it makes the shrimp curl up into random, tortuous shapes I find attractive, as if they suffered for beauty.