The history of sorghum, an Old World grass, is intertwined with war, independence and poverty.
It’s that history, its strong ties to the American South and balanced, umami-rich sweetness that has chefs returning to sorghum, using it as a key ingredient in everything from cocktails to foie gras.
In her new book, Sorghum’s Savor, the Kentucky-born Ronni Lundy celebrates the amber syrup, which she pronounces “sahr-gum.”
“Because we were mountain folks,” she writes in her introduction, which she recalls from the perspective of a child in the abundant lap of her great-aunt Johnnie.
Lundy’s knowledge of sorghum carries the weight of nearly 64 years, intertwined with warm kitchen memories of eating freshly baked biscuits swiped in the amber syrup, rich in iron and a folk remedy for anemic children.
“I remember it as a child that was held in the lap in order to taste it,” Lundy recalled.
But sorghum’s foundation reaches back well before Lundy was born.
Sorghum, originally an African grass that looks a bit like corn as it grows, holds a sweet juice extracted by crushing the cane. That sweet juice is then reduced until it runs slow as molasses, but boasts a deeper, more complex flavor.
United States planters began cultivating sorghum more extensively in the mid-1800s. Sorghum became known as long sweetener, while sugar was short sweetener.
Sorghum also became a way to break the dependence on sugar, a trade that was dominated by the sugar plantations of the South and the Caribbean. In the South, sorghum became an economic engine; in the North, a way to break free of reliance on slave labor and the sugar plantation economy. “It was a political decision,” said Lundy.
The Civil War stopped the flow of sugar from the South to the North, so sorghum became the “sweetener of choice in the divided nation,” Lundy wrote.
During Reconstruction, the flow of sugar returned, but in some areas, sorghum retained its cache.
“It became something that the people in the Appalachians became very, very good at,” Lundy said. In the Appalachian South, sorghum was just beginning its role as a flavorful symbol of mountain heritage, and a way to tie the community together.
The grinding wheel and pans for reducing sorghum syrup were costly, so the sorghum making would happen in a community batch. During the all-day autumn process, food would be shared and courtships begun. “It was magical, and I think that there’s a huge cultural resonance that stayed with it as well,” Lundy said.
Lundy’s book explores that cultural heritage, as well as sorghum’s evolution as an umami-rich sweetener that’s being rediscovered by progressive chefs.
“The great thing about the book is that it was a product that has a history and a story, but writing the book was like going on an adventure of discovery,” said Lundy.
Many of the chefs the author tapped for insight in her book were still becoming acquainted with the rural food staple’s versatility.
Chef Edward Lee, for example, owns 610 Magnolia in Kentucky, as well as MilkWood, where the menu explores the intersection of southern comfort food with an Asian pantry.
Though sorghum was originally an African sweetener, it takes perfectly to his style of food, he explains in Lundy’s book. “It has more depth and range than honey, a more complex umami,” he said. “And I thought, ‘Why am I using a sweetener from a thousand miles away, when this is right up the road?'”
It’s an excellent question for a southern chef, and one local chef John Fleer asked well before he moved back to North Carolina to open Asheville’s Rhubarb. Discovering sorghum as the 28-year-old chef of Blackberry Farm in Tennessee, Fleer called the syrup “a revelation.”
“It captures such a range of flavors — gentle, sweet, but so rich,” he told Lundy. “So much more subtle and versatile than regular molasses, or even other syrups or sweeteners.”
Now Fleer says he wouldn’t have a restaurant without it.
Like Lundy, he praises it as a complement to meat, including roasted duck and quail. It’s in cocktails at Rhubarb’s R Bar and mixed into batters and syrups in the pastry kitchen.
But sorghum needs very little doctoring to become a veritable culinary workhorse.
Sorghum works well in more exotic dishes as well. When whisked into the Senegalese dish chicken yassa, sorghum helps knit together the acidity of lemon, the heat of chilies and pungent onions. It also plays perfectly with Asian food, particularly with salty, pungent flavors like those in miso.
“But what really surprised me in the book is what an affinity it had for Indian food,” Lundy said. “I think of that cuisine as being so ancient, and everything’s there.”
Lundy found adding sorghum to chai was the gateway to adding it to Bengali vegetables. “It’s fabulous with chai,” she said. “It has all of those brown spices and sorghum has that amber thing going, so they just all get in there and play nicely.”
To that end, it works perfectly in baked goods, including ginger snaps and classic puddings.
Sorghum brought Lundy back to infatuation with what she calls the Holy Grail of deep-South piedom: the pecan pie, which was around long before corn syrup turned it into something treacly sweet and overly refined.
Though molasses is certainly better than corn syrup, it doesn’t hold a candle to sorghum, said Lundy. And when she describes its effect on food, the way it plays with heat and intertwines with pungent flavors, Lundy’s background as a music editor comes through in the lyrical way she talks about food.
“It is a really complex favor, and molasses largely is not,” she said. “You get the sweet and you get a ‘whang,’ as my mother would have called it, the minerality of it having been cooked. But with the sorghum, it’s almost like listening to a complex piece of music that has a lot going on that supports the melody that is contrapuntal.”
Find sorghum at Mast General Store, WNC Farmers Market, some local Ingles markets, or through Appalachian Sustainable Agriculture Project atwww.buyappalachian.org
SORGHUM AND BOURBON PECAN PIE
The taste and texture of corn syrup put me off the Holy Grail of Deep South piedom at an early age. Sorghum syrup and a tot of bourbon brought me back. Mercy, but this pie is good. Serves 8.
1 9-inch pie crust
1 1/2 cups pecan halves
Pinch of fine sea salt
4 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup sorghum syrup
1/4 cup half-and-half
1 cup sugar
2 tablespoons white cornmeal
1/8 teaspoon salt
4 eggs
3 tablespoons bourbon
Heat oven to 325 degrees. Place crust in 9-inch pan and flute to make a raised edge.
To toast pecans, lightly spray cookie sheet with oil. Spread pecans in single layer and very lightly salt. (You’re not aiming for salted nuts for snacking but just a whisper of salt — less than ⅛ teaspoon.)
Roast pecans in oven for 5 minutes, remove, and use a spatula to stir and flip the pecans. Put back in oven and roast for 5 more minutes. If pecans are just starting to brown and smell fragrant, they are ready; turn them out in a bowl. If not, you may need to roast them for 1 to 2 minutes more before turning out.
To make pie, turn heat up to 350.
In small pan, melt butter, stir in sorghum to blend. Remove from heat and add half-and-half. Set aside.
In a small bowl, blend sugar, cornmeal, and salt.
In a large bowl, whisk the eggs until yolks and whites are fully blended. Whisk in the sorghum mixture. Whisk in the sugar mixture. When all is blended, add the pecans and the bourbon and stir to incorporate. Pour into piecrust. Bake on the middle rack for 40-50 minutes, until the center is set. Remove and cool on rack before slicing.
Reprinted with permission from University Press of Florida.
CHEESY SPICY MUFFINS
Sweet sorghum is the perfect facilitator to bring cheese and spice together in this lovely, sconelike muffin. Makes 1 dozen.
2 cups flour
3 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon allspice
1/4 teaspoon ground coriander
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup sorghum syrup
1/4 cup coconut oil
3/4 cup grated aged Gouda cheese
Heat oven to 375 degrees. Lightly spray 12 muffin cups with oil and set aside.
Sift the first seven ingredients together in a large bowl and set aside. Warm the milk in a small pan on low heat; stir in sorghum to dissolve. Add coconut oil (if it has solidified, you can continue to warm to liquefy). Pour contents of the pan into flour mixture, stirring to incorporate. When blended, fold in cheese. Fill muffin cups 3/4 full and bake for 15 to 20 minutes.
Ronni Lundy on the history of the iconic Appalachian sweetener