Spinach Maria

Let's celebrate cheese and spinach and finding a home in a place that other people might write off.

The ingredients:

• 8 ounces spinach

• 2 cups water

• 1 tbsp. butter

• 1/4-1/2 onion, chopped

• 3-4 garlic cloves

• 1 tbsp. flour

• 1/2 tsp. dry mustard

• 1/2 tsp. cayenne

• 1/4 tsp. nutmeg

• 1/2 tsp. garlic salt

• 1 tsp. red pepper flakes

• 1/2 c. buttermilk

• 1 ounce shredded cheddar cheese

• 1.5 ounces pepper jack

The process:

Blanch the spinach in boiling water until just wilted. Place in an ice bath to stop the cooking process. Pulse in a food processor (or you can just rough chop it—you pretty much just don’t want a big, long bite of spinach, you know?). Melt butter in a pan, then add garlic and onion until fragrant. Add flour and all spices, until onion and garlic are covered.

Add buttermilk until it’s incorporated evenly. Add cheese, and when melted, add spinach. Sprinkle with breadcrumbs, if desired. Place in a baking dish or cast iron and bake for 10 minutes at 425.

The story:

I thought this side dish was the fanciest, most delicious creation in the world when I was younger. There’s this place called Calhoun’s back in Tennessee that has the best ribs and wings, but—and this is very much off-brand—I was always invested in the Spinach Maria. I thought this beautiful invention was enjoyed across the world until I realized, after leaving home, that I didn’t see Spinach Maria on any other menus. Recently, I got invested in recreating it, and it doesn’t disappoint. I’ve subbed in other cheeses and played with the flavors, but something about that cheddar and pepper jack combo is just… well, it’s silly.

As I write more about food, attempt to create my own, and speak to people who spend a lot of time in the snacks and restaurant space, I’ve been thinking about “fancy” foods—or rather, dishes that feel elevated and important to us. Before moving away from home, I believed fancy food was Olive Garden or Texas Roadhouse. Calhoun’s, too. And then for a while in my 20s, I think I had that notion beat out of me. Fancy places were restaurants with notable executive chefs and Michelin stars and etc whatever blah. It can’t be duplicated, and it’s certainly not franchised.

But then I had this Uber driver once (yeah, I talk to Uber drivers) who told me after coming to the States for graduate school, his favorite restaurant was Olive Garden. He studied in Alabama, and the Olive Garden he went to was his home away from hoe because he couldn’t return to the Middle East on his student visa, for whatever reason. And then he told me that everywhere he moved, he could find an Olive Garden. It was his traveling home base, and all those recipes made him feel like he had a place to belong.

And don’t get me wrong—Michelin starred restaurants and bespoke eateries are fancy. But there’s something important and special about all the places I loved growing up. About finding something familiar at a chain restaurant. When I sit down at an Olive Garden—as rare of an occasion that is these days—it still feels special because for our family it was. It was special and elevated and a treat that my parents consciously chose to spend money on. So make this Spinach Maria and make it feel fancy. Cook it for someone you care about. Reclaim food reputations and what “fine dining” means because the person’s opinion who counts most is the person who is putting the food in their mouth.