Our friends Mike and Rusty, who play every Thursday evening at the Midtown Sundries’ Harborside location, have a song that goes out to all the Yankees in the crowd. The song offers a variety of tips for us Northerners while we’re living here in the South. It’s a lighthearted song with recommendations for ketchup on hot dogs, sugar in iced tea and diners where the waitress calls you honey. 

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I don’t recall if the song has a line about collards, but it should. Because if you’re a Yankee living in the South, sooner or later you’re going to encounter collards. You might as well learn to enjoy them.

What are Collards?
Collard greens are those big, leafy greens you see in the fresh vegetable section of your grocery store. They differ in both appearance and flavor from mustard, dandelion, and turnip greens, which can also be found on most grocer’s shelves. Collards are my favorite among these varieties.

Collards belong to the cabbage family and are closely-related to kale and chard. Although collards are available year-round, locals have told me they are best from January through April.

I’ve found articles that trace the culinary history of collards to the Greeks and Romans. According to the book, The Backcountry Housewife — A Study of Eighteenth-Century Foods, by Kay Moss and Kathryn Hoffman:

“The 17th century Lowland Scots had greens or potherbs “from the yard” along with their oat cakes or oatmeal. The switch to corn cakes or mush along with their greens in 18th century American was most likely not too difficult a transition for these folk.“

It stands to reason that when the Scots settled the Carolinas, they were pleased to find collards and other greens growing here.

Collards, like other cabbages, kales and chards, not only taste good, they’re good for you. Collards are rich in calcium, vitamins B1, B2, B9, and C, as well as beta-carotene. Collards are high in soluble fiber and contain multiple nutrients with potent anti-cancer properties.

Southern Greens
Most authors attribute what is known as the Southern style of greens to the arrival of African slaves. Often forced to create meals from leftovers from the plantation kitchen like ham hocks, pigs’ feet, and the tops of turnips and other greens, the slaves evolved the technique of simmering the greens with smoked meat. Even after the greens were eaten, the left-over juices or gravy remaining (“pot likker“) could be drunk by a hungry soul.

The typical recipe for Southern collards calls for selecting a “mess of greens.” A mess depends on the size of your family. I usually buy a bunch for each diner, because the greens cook down. Wash the greens thoroughly, then strip the leaves from the thick stalks. Stack several leaves together, roll them up, and slice into broad strips.

Most recipes call for adding ham hocks and salt to a large pot of water, then adding the greens after the ham hocks have simmered for at least 30 minutes.

Most Southern cooks simmer their greens for at least two hours. When the collards are tender, remove the pot from the heat and drain the greens in a colander. Some cooks add vinegar or hot sauce. Some shred the ham hocks and add it to the collards. Some top their greens with raw onions and/or diced tomatoes. Reserve some of the “pot likker” to add to the plate.

Chef G’s Collards
I like to serve collards with grilled pork chops, mango chutney, and sweet potato puree. I use a jerk-type Caribbean rub on the chops and a mango-citrus sauce to bind the chutney. I spice-up my greens with a lot of heat to balance the sweetness of the rub, the puree, and the chutney.

I’ve evolved a technique for cooking collards that reflects both my experience working in fine-dining restaurants in New Orleans and growing up in my southern grandma’s kitchen.

I begin by sautéing diced apple-wood smoked bacon in a large heavy pot. When the bacon crisps, I add onion and garlic. While the onion and garlic are cooking, I add a generous sprinkling of red-pepper flakes. Next, I add a combination of water and chicken stock. I bring the water-stock mixture to a boil and toss in the greens. I cook uncovered, allowing the “likker” to reduce while the greens soften. I taste for seasoning and heat, adding salt, black pepper, and cayenne pepper as needed. When the greens are softened, I add a splash or two of red vinegar and dash or two of hot sauce for good measure.

I’ve never had any complaints about my greens.

For more ideas on how to plan meals, procure ingredients, prepare dishes and create presentations that are as beautiful as they are delicious, visit Chef
Gary’s Web site at http://www.joiedecuisine.com or e-mail him at

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