Pimento Cheese Is a Family Argument You Can Spread on Crackers

In my family, pimento cheese is not a recipe. It's a position. My sister Carol and I have been disagreeing about it for over forty years, and every Thanksgiving there are two bowls on the sideboard, one at each end, like opposing armies.

I want to tell you about both bowls, because I think pimento cheese is one of those foods that says a lot about the person who makes it.

The basics nobody argues about

There are a few things we agree on. Pimento cheese starts with sharp cheddar, a jar of diced pimentos, drained, and mayonnaise. It gets black pepper. It gets eaten on crackers, on celery, on white bread as a sandwich, or straight off a spoon at midnight when no one is watching.

We also agree that the stuff in the plastic tubs at the grocery store is a different food entirely and should not use the name.

Carol's bowl

Carol makes hers in a food processor. She pulses the cheese until it's fine, then blends in the mayonnaise until the whole thing is smooth and pale orange, almost like a dip. She adds a spoonful of sweet pickle relish and a good shake of garlic powder.

I'll be honest: it spreads beautifully. It is perfect on a soft cracker. Children love it. Carol's grandchildren will not eat mine.

My bowl

I grate my cheese by hand on the large holes of a box grater. It takes longer and I always grate a knuckle. I fold the mayonnaise in with a fork so the cheese stays in shreds and the texture is lumpy and rough. I use part extra-sharp yellow cheddar and part white, a little grated onion, a spoon of the pimento juice, a dash of hot sauce and a pinch of cayenne. No sweet pickle. Never.

My version is better on a sandwich, especially toasted in a skillet with a little butter until the cheese starts to melt at the edges. It is worse on a delicate cracker, I will admit that, because the shreds fall off.

Where the argument came from

Our mother made it both ways, depending on the day and how tired she was. On weekdays she used the blender because she had four kids and a job at the bank. On Sundays, for church picnics, she grated by hand because she wanted it to look homemade. Carol remembers the weekday version and I remember the Sunday one, and we each think we're defending Mama.

I only figured this out a few years ago when I found her old picnic list in the recipe tin. It said "pimento cheese, grated, no relish." Carol says that proves nothing because the weekday version never needed a list.

The truce, sort of

Last year Carol's husband, who has wisely stayed out of this for decades, put a spoon of each on a single cracker and ate it. He said it was the best one he'd ever had. Neither of us spoke to him for the rest of the afternoon.

The two bowls will be back this November. I've already bought the cheese.