Recipe by Sheri Castle

Photos by Forrest Mason

We like to talk about barbecue, both the rendition and consumption. We know there are regional specialties, fierce loyalties, and spirited debates.

Like a Proust questionnaire with a single query, you can gain insight into people by asking what they will even acknowledge as barbecue, much less eat. Barbecue sides can be just as evocative and map-dot specific. Few of us will ever attempt pit-smoked barbecue at home, much less expect to master it. The sides, on the other hand, are reassuringly accessible.

There’s little consensus (no surprise there) on what exactly constitutes a barbecue side, but there are common denominators, especially among places that take barbecue seriously. They don’t fiddle with dishes that draw undue time and attention away from the pit. There’s no à la minute in the world of barbecue. Sides are usually made in large batches that keep a day or two, or don’t need much minding once underway. Their quality can’t fade during service hours or during a stint on a steam table. Seasonal specials might come and go, or not come at all, but the core lineup is made from inexpensive ingredients that are readily available year round.

This throughline doesn’t imply that all barbecue sides are the same. Far from it. We count on the meat, but we anticipate the sides. (For those who don’t eat meat yet find themselves at a barbecue restaurant, the sides are everything.) We expect slaw, for example, but we marvel at the various ways different cooks will make it. We look forward to beans, and we know those beans will change as we eat our way westward from the Atlantic to the other side of the Mississippi. We delight in novel dishes found in only a handful of places, or perhaps only one location, such as the orange-hued hash of South Carolina that’s pretty much unheard of in other states. I admire the forthright nature of barbecue sides and appreciate that we get to pick what we want. Barbecue places fix us a plate; they don’t plate our meal.

Side cooks are on a par with the pit cooks when it comes to putting their local spins on menu items we deem essential to the overall barbecue experience. The pitmaster might get the hype as the front man, but the side cooks deserve love for being the tight house band.

The pitmaster might get the hype as the front man, but the side cooks deserve love for being the tight house band.

Taking inspiration from classic Southern barbecue joint sides, I developed eight recipes that we can cook at home. I chose dishes that can go together and complement all types of barbecue. Some are common. Others you might not have heard of. Of course, these recipes are not the final say on barbecue sides, nor the only way to make them. Just as there will never be consensus on barbecue, there is no single recipe for any side dish. We all get to talk about our favorites, but none of us gets the last word. I made these sides the way I would if I could have y’all over to my house. You can bring the barbecue.

A Mess of Greens

by Sheri Castle

[PRINT THIS RECIPE]

Popular Southern side dishes often make their way onto barbecue menus because the preparation fits into the pace of low-and-slow barbecue. Once a pot of greens is on the stove, it can simmer unattended for a while. Greens and potlikker not only keep for a few days, they improve with a little aging and reheating, meaning that they don’t necessarily have to be tackled daily.

Big, leafy greens are common in the South. They don’t have to be tracked down or shipped in. We sometimes say collards almost generically, when what we really mean is a mess of cooked greens. Map the braising greens of the South and you’ll see zones where mustard or turnip greens are more popular than collards. For this recipe, I combined the big three into one pot. Each adds its own flavor and texture, making the whole thing better.

A pot of greens benefits from judicious seasoning with something smoked. Pork is traditional, although smoked turkey wings or legs infuse smokiness and depth of flavor. Don’t skip making the stock. It’s the bedrock of good potlikker that’s integral to good greens, as fully wrought as a fine soup. Although, as good as potlikker is, there is an art to serving greens in a way that keeps those juices from sloshing into anything else on our plates, including the barbecue—which is why greens often come in their own bowl or Styrofoam nook.

It’s important to taste the greens to ensure the flavors are balanced when you make them and each time you heat them up. Even after you think your mess of greens is just right, set an array of hot sauces and vinegars on the table so your guests can tinker with their individual servings. People are like that.

Makes 8 servings

12 to 16 ounces smoked turkey wings or legs
4 cups richly flavored chicken broth, preferably homemade
4 cups water
2 1/2 pounds mixed sturdy, leafy greens, such as collards, mustard, and turnip
2 tablespoons unfiltered apple cider vinegar
2 tablespoons packed brown sugar, sorghum, or cane syrup
2 teaspoons seasoned salt or kosher salt
2 teaspoons ground black pepper
1 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1 medium yellow onion, finely chopped (about 2 cups)
Serve with: vinegar, pepper vinegar, and assorted hot sauces

For the stock:
Place the turkey pieces, broth, and water in a large pot. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat, and simmer until the liquid reduces to 6 cups, about 2 hours. Strain and return to the pot. Discard the turkey pieces.

For the greens:
Strip the leafy greens from the tough stems and discard the stems. Cut or tear the leaves into bite-size pieces. To remove the inevitable grit (even if you don’t see any), swish them in a sink full of cool water, let stand for a couple of minutes so that the grit will sink to the bottom, then lift out the leaves to drain in a large colander or on a clean towel. Let the clinging water drip away, but you don’t have to dry them.

Bring the stock to a simmer and stir in vinegar, sugar, salt, pepper, and pepper flakes. Stir in the onions. Begin adding the greens a large handful at a time, letting them wilt a bit before adding more. It will look like too many greens to fit in the pot, but they cook down considerably, soon turning a mountain into a manageable hill of greens.

Reduce the heat and simmer gently until the greens are tender, but not slick or slimy, 30 to 45 minutes.
Taste the potlikker and adjust the seasoning to your liking, making sure that it’s bold and balanced. If you need more heat, it’s preferable to use hot sauce at this point rather than more pepper flakes because the liquid mixes in immediately and adds nice acidity.

It’s fine to serve the greens right away, but for the best flavor, make them a day ahead. Let the greens cool, then cover and refrigerate overnight. Reheat gently before serving with vinegar, pepper vinegar, and hot sauce on the table.

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