Shrimp and Grits for Twelve: Lessons From Feeding a Whole Porch

My cousin Delia got married on a Saturday in May, and on Friday at noon she called to say the rehearsal dinner place had flooded and could the whole wedding party come to my house. Twelve people. I said yes before I thought about it, which is how most of the good things in my life have started.

I had a pound of shrimp in the freezer, a bag of stone-ground grits from the mill outside town, and four hours. So I made shrimp and grits, and it turned out to be one of the best nights that porch has ever seen.

Grits need time, not attention

The most important thing I know about grits is that they are not a fast food, no matter what the instant box says. Stone-ground grits want about an hour on low heat. They don't need you standing over them, but they do need you to come back every ten minutes, stir from the bottom, and add a splash of liquid.

For twelve people I used three cups of grits to about twelve cups of liquid, half water and half milk, with a good spoon of salt. I started them before I did anything else. By the time the shrimp were ready they had gone from gritty and loose to thick and creamy, and I finished them with a stick of butter and two handfuls of sharp white cheddar.

Buy more shrimp than you think

I ran to the seafood counter at the market and bought three more pounds of local shrimp, which was the right call. People will eat grits all night, but they count the shrimp. If someone gets four and someone gets nine, you will hear about it.

The sauce is simple. Cook a few slices of thick bacon until crisp, crumble it and leave the fat in the skillet. Add a chopped onion, a chopped green pepper, and three cloves of garlic. When they're soft, add a little flour, then a cup of chicken stock and the juice of a lemon. Let it bubble until it coats a spoon. The shrimp go in last and need only three or four minutes. Pull them as soon as they curl into a loose C. A tight O means you've gone too far.

Feeding a crowd on a porch

A few things I learned that night that I would tell anyone cooking for more people than they own chairs for:

• Serve from the stove and let people carry their bowls outside. Nobody minds walking.
• Put the hot sauce, lemon wedges and green onions on the porch rail, not the kitchen. It keeps the kitchen clear.
• Keep a pot of extra grits warm with a lid on and a splash of milk. You will need it.
• Sweet tea in a glass jar with a spigot is worth more than any centerpiece.

The part I remember most

What I remember is not the food so much as the sound. Twelve people on a porch built for six, plates on knees, the groom's father telling a long story about a fishing trip that I am almost sure was not true. The bride sat on the steps with her shoes off. Around nine the frogs started up in the ditch across the road and everyone just stopped and listened for a minute.

Delia still says it was the best part of her wedding. The restaurant reopened two weeks later. I have never once been tempted to go.