Pimento cheese: spreading Virginia love
My grandmother’s pimento cheese – a rich, tangy, slightly sweet concoction of shredded sharp cheddar cheese, diced pimentos, and a sauce made of egg, apple cider vinegar, yellow mustard, and sugar – was one of her specialties. Growing up, almost every visit to her Staunton, Virginia, home resulted in a pimento cheese sandwich, served cold between two slices of white or whole wheat bread. A plate of generously-sliced tomatoes rested on the oak dining table in case anyone wanted to settle those atop the predominantly orange spread, and small bowls of green beans, which had been simmering in fatback in her cast iron pot, and a ‘green salad’ (a mix of lime gelatine, sugar, crushed pineapple, miniature marshmallows, cream cheese, and Cool Whip) often rounded out the meal.
While I loved her salty green beans and relished the opportunity to consume what was essentially a dessert as a side dish, I wasn’t always a fan of pimento cheese. Cheddar is delicious on its own, and the extra flavours were too much for my young palate. Thankfully, my tastes and attitudes towards the spread have evolved, and Grandmom’s version lives on in our family, with my dad usually at the helm when it comes to recreating his mother-in-law’s signature dish and my aunts regularly making it, too. It’s part of our history, and the mention of it reminds us of the strong, determined, resourceful, energetic, hardworking, fun-loving woman with the glamorous smile we were blessed to know and love.
Grandmom with my mom (1948)
Grandmom and me in Gypsy Hill Park, Staunton (1978)
A taste of nostalgia in SW Virginia
That’s why, when dining in Harvest, a farm-to-table restaurant at Mountain Lake Lodge in Pembroke, Virginia (more than two hours southwest of Staunton), seeing the house-made grilled pimento cheese sandwich on the lunch menu excites me nearly as much as sitting near the table where the fictional ‘Houseman’ family gathered for meals in the 1987 film Dirty Dancing. (Mountain Lake Lodge was one of the movie’s main filming locations.) The version here is different than Grandmom's – it's decidedly creamy, with mild hints of pimento – but so pleasing I order it again at dinner, slathered atop slices of fried green tomatoes and packed into oven roasted mushrooms.
Pimento cheese stuffed mushrooms at Mountain Lake Lodge in Pembroke, Virginia. (The bacon garnish was left off, as per my request.)
Many restaurants celebrating Southern cuisine have a house pimento cheese, including several in and around my former hometown, Roanoke, Virginia. For example, the Pine Room at the Tudor-style Hotel Roanoke serves it as a warm dip as well as on the Virginia ground burger. At Local Roots, it comes with the eggs Bernadette, a vegetarian twist on eggs Benedict. At Hollywood’s Restaurant and Bakery, you can order pimento cheese-crowned fried green tomatoes, resting comfortably on a bed of mushroom grits. And, at The Floyd Country Store, an hour southwest of Roanoke and famous for its live Appalachian music, the pimento cheese piled on their sandwich strives for the height of the venue’s Blue Ridge Mountains setting.
A mountain of pimento cheese at The Floyd Country Store, Floyd, Virginia
Origins and recreations
Pimento cheese – named for the Spanish word for pepper, ‘pimiento’ – wasn’t originally associated with the southern US. The first commercially-available spread, sold throughout the US in the early 1900s, was a blend of chopped red peppers from Spain and cream cheese. Pimento production soon became a Georgia-based enterprise, and southern cooks starting making their own version using grated ‘hoop’ cheese (sold in country stores) and, later, sharp cheddar cheese, diced pimentos, and mayonnaise. (For more info on its history, check out this Serious Eats article.)
Mayonnaise – whether store bought or homemade – is a key ingredient in most pimento cheese recipes. But Grandmom didn’t use it in hers. My mom believes she may have inherited her method from her sweet-natured mother-in-law, noting mayo isn’t necessary as the other ingredients bind it together effectively. (And, my dad insists, ‘Her sauce tastes better!’)
In the heart of the Shenandoah Valley, Staunton is known for its well-preserved architecture in six historic districts in and around its charming downtown. But, to me, its most intriguing buildings are north of these districts, on Selma Blvd. In 1927, my great-grandfather bought Selma, a Greek Revival-style manor built around 1850. Though I've never been inside it, I imagine what a Sunday afternoon there may have been like during the summer of 1947, when sugar rationing had ended. My great-grandmother is making salt-rising bread, peach preserves, and, possibly, pimento cheese in its kitchen, and my grandmother is beside her, helping while learning her recipes. Afterwards, they present the resulting temptations to my grandfather, who is holding and entertaining his first child (my mom), and great-grandfather. The men gratefully devour these treats, each quietly reflecting on how fortunate they are to have these ladies in their lives. No one notices, but near the dining room mantel is the ghost of a young soldier, politely observing the light of the family gathering and maybe wishing he could try a sandwich, too.
Several doors down, towards Gypsy Hill Park, is my favourite Staunton house: the 1920s stone-adorned Craftsman my grandparents and their four children eventually called home. This is where my early memories of Grandmom live and where I tried pimento cheese for the first time.
Occasionally we'd dine out in Staunton together, but I can’t remember Grandmom ever ordering the spread when we did – she usually went straight for the crab cakes, fried chicken, or spaghetti. But, if she had a cheese craving, she could have tucked into a toasted or grilled sandwich at one of her favourite Staunton restaurants, Mrs. Rowe’s, which the Rowe family has owned and operated for over 70 years. Or gone for an FGT sandwich (fried green tomatoes, house pimento cheese, balsamic onion jam, and lettuce on sourdough) at Byers Street Bistro, in the Wharf historic district.
But I doubt any restaurant’s interpretation could have satisfied her as much as her own creation.
On a sunny June day, some of her children and grandchildren meet 95km northeast of Staunton, in Shenandoah National Park, where we occasionally met her as well. Here, our picnic table is laden with delicious reminders of summer gatherings past: ‘green salad’, brownies, chips, pickles, bread, sliced tomatoes, and, of course, her pimento cheese.
Memories have never tasted so good.
'Green salad' and no-mayo pimento cheese, based on Grandmom's recipes
Grandmom's pimento cheese recipe
You'll need:
- 1 egg, beaten
- ¾ cup sugar (I think ½ cup is plenty)
- ½ cup apple cider vinegar
- ¼ teaspoon yellow mustard
- A teaspoon of butter
- A pound (or half kilo) of extra sharp cheddar (or extra sharp tasty) cheese, grated (not shredded)
- At least half a 7-ounce jar of diced pimentos, mostly drained
(Note: I didn't see pimentos in my local grocery store here in Australia, so I used an entire 285-gram jar of piquillo peppers (which came marinated in garlic) instead. This, of course, deviated from Grandmom's recipe in type and amount of pepper plus added some garlic flavour, but the result was still delicious. And when I made it in Virginia recently, I used diced pimentos and roasted red peppers - that was tasty, too.)
Stir the egg and sugar together, then mix in the vinegar and mustard. Cook over low heat, stirring constantly. When little white flecks form (as the egg starts to cook), keep on low heat, for another minute or so. Remove from heat and add butter, stirring in well. Let this sauce cool for a while.
In a large bowl, combine your grated cheese with your diced peppers. You can add a little of the pepper juice from the jar, if you wish. Add the sauce a little at a time, mixing well until the consistency is such that, according to my dad, ‘you can place it on a cracker, bite into it, and not have the spread dribble off or fall onto your toes!’
Grandmom relaxing at Skyland Resort, Shenandoah National Park (approx. 2005)
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