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We get hungry just looking at the recipe for this biscuit-topped casserole! Made with some of our favorite foods out there—ground beef, pickles, ketchup, and cheese—this casserole is a fast way to make a big family-style meal that everyone will definitely love, especially the kids.

We always have a red rice dish on the buffet table at The Lady & Sons. Here we added beef to the skillet to turn our Cajun-influenced red rice dish into an easy crowd-pleaser. Since we’re on the Georgia coast, we’ll also do red rice with sausage and shrimp, so you can use that instead if you like: Just brown crumbled sausage in place of the beef and stir in a half pound of shelled shrimp for the last five minutes of simmering (or until they’re pink).

I love a chicken salad sandwich, but I like the chicken salad itself to be full of flavor and not plain and boring. So when I make chicken salad, I start with a whole chicken because I like both white and dark meat, and because I want to have a lot of chicken salad to go around. Then I put pickles, apples, grapes, eggs, and pecans in it, so that it’s a rich, filling salad that’s great on its own with Ritz or saltine crackers, or on a toasted English muffin, or on other bread as a sandwich. Should you have any leftover barbecue chicken (see page 31) or smoked chicken (see page 40), you can scale down this recipe based on what you have and make a smaller amount of the chicken salad with the leftovers.

When my brothers and I were cooking and working at my father’s barbecue restaurant, we had barbecue baked potatoes on the menu and they were popular as hell. I ate them for lunch all the time, and to this day I make them whenever I have leftover pulled pork.

This dish might sound a little strange coming from me, I grant you that. But you know I wouldn’t bother with it if it didn’t make me some dough, and the concoction has won me a bunch of money in contest ancillary categories over the years. It’s a Myron Mixon original recipe if ever there was one.

When I host cooking school weekends at my place, I often do a Lowcountry Boil on Friday nights for my usual “meet and greet” session, where the folks attending can get to know one another—and me—a little bit. This is a specialty of the Lowcountry areas like Charleston and Savannah, where the people live near the water and have access to plenty of fresh shrimp. But of course you don’t need to live near the water to enjoy it. The traditional way to serve this is to basically dump it—spread it, if you will—across a large picnic table that has been covered with newspaper. You may want to fancy up the serving situation, but it’s fine to keep it casual, too. You can just tell your guests that’s how they do it down South.

Meat loaf is something every man ought to know how to cook. I developed my recipe when I started having my cooking schools. I always host a Friday night meetand-greet Lowcountry Boil, but inevitably some of my students don’t eat seafood, and for them I created individual meat loaves—kind of like large meatballs made for just one person. Everybody knows the best thing about meat loaf is the sandwiches you can have the next day with the leftovers; these are no different.

Mutton is a lamb’s older brother; lambs are less than a year old and are tender, while mutton has a stronger smell and a more intense game flavor. They love mutton in western Kentucky; it’s the traditional meat that’s barbecued there, and I know this because a few years ago I won the Kentucky state mutton championship cooking that very thing. My secret is treat it like a pork butt with an attitude. Note that this ain’t lamb chops: you’ve got to inject the meat and cook it for a while to get it tender. It’s worth it. One tip: Don’t put damn mint jelly on this meat. My Tangy Sweet Sauce is the only way to go.

When I make this stew, an extremely old-fashioned and indigenous example of the “poor people” food that the South was built on, I feel like I’m cooking a piece of my own history. The origins of this piquant, thin stew, which is loaded with meat and vegetables, are hotly disputed between Brunswick, Georgia, and Brunswick County, Virginia (I’m a Georgia product myself, so you know which side I’m on). I always make this for a crowd. A big crowd. Like those at my cooking school, which typically draws more than fifty students. I have my own professional-size meat grinder, and what I often do is grind the onions and potatoes together with the pork and brisket. You don’t need to do that at home; you can just mix them together. And feel free to cut this recipe in half (or quarters, whatever you need), but I suggest you make it for your next snow day, and bake up some cornbread to go with it—feed the whole block and you’ll have friends for life, trust me.

Trout is a freshwater fish, the majority of which swim in the rivers of Idaho and North Carolina. Because it’s so commonly farmed, trout is available in markets year-round. It’s a meaty fish with a naturally salty flavor, and it takes well to smoking. I like to eat smoked trout as a main dish with a little garlic butter on top and some cheese biscuits on the side. It’s also really good in a sandwich with some horseradish, or mixed into a dip with a little mayonnaise and sour cream.

Prawns are crustaceans similar to shrimp, but they’re a little bit different (it has to do with the number of overlapping plates on their scales, if you want to get technical). That said, the names are used pretty much interchangeably. To me, prawns are a little meatier and sweeter, so if you can get your hands on some, great. If not, substitute the best jumbo shrimp you can find. Serve these over a bed of wild rice, if you like.

I may be from a small town in south Georgia, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy some fancy food, too. And just as I don’t expect people to turn their noses up at cheap pork shoulders that are delicious smoked, I don’t turn mine up at lobster tails. They’re expensive, but, man, are they good—especially if you cook the tails in the smoker. Try it.

If you think I’m talking about the haircut—“business in the front, recreation in the rear”—you best move on to the next recipe. If you know good food, you’ve probably heard about mullet, which is a fish found worldwide in tropical and coastal waters and abundantly on both coasts of Florida and into Georgia. Mullet is a bony fish with light meat and a stout body—and it’s oily, so it takes especially well to absorbing smoke. Any good fishmonger should be able to get you some.

Beef tenderloin is an expensive, delicate cut of meat that has been blessed with a lot of natural flavor. My thinking is that it needs only a little enhancing, not a total makeover. That’s why I don’t recommended injecting it. Instead I marinate it, just to add some flavor. One last detail: Beef tenderloin is tender to start with, and overcooking turns it tough. I repeat: Do not overcook this meat. It won’t be worth a damn if you do. If rare to medium-rare ain’t your bag, move on and cook a sirloin.

In 2004, I won a big burger-cooking contest in Whistler, British Columbia, against a bunch of other professional barbecue cooks. “You were shooting to do America’s favorite burger better than it’s ever been done before, and you definitely pulled it off.” That’s what Paul Street, the director of food and beverage at Whistler Blackcomb, declared when I was named the champion. Part of winning the competition was the honor of your burger appearing on their menu for a year; my burger’s been on the menu ever since that day. My secret is to smoke the burger first, then sear it in a bit of butter afterward to seal in the moisture, create a crust, and add an extra layer of flavor and richness. I just wanted to come up with the best damn burger I could—one that was meaty and juicy and also infused with great smoky flavor. Now cooking burgers in a smoker is a must for me because I love it when the meat is kissed with smoke; if you’ve never tried it this way, you ought to. That said, you can do the first step in the oven on those days you don’t want to fire up a smoker or grill—it will still be delicious, don’t you worry. I like generously portioned burgers, and these are half-pounders. Feel free to make them smaller if you like.

A prime rib roast is such a great way to feed a crowd—it’s always on my Christmas dinner table. Sure, it’s delicious and decadent, but what most people don’t know is that it’s easy as hell to cook on a smoker or grill. Note that there are two separate cuts that are considered “prime rib”: The first cut (ribs 1 through 3) is closer to the loin and thus more tender and less fatty. The second cut (ribs 4 through 7) is closer to the chuck end and is denser and fattier. Ask your butcher for the first cut—it’s worth it—and buy the very best quality beef, with the most marbling, that you can afford. The recipe I’m giving here is for a smaller roast, but the same technique (with a slight adjustment on the time—a good rule of thumb is to allow about 30 minutes per pound) can be applied to a prime rib of any size.

A porterhouse is a big hunk of a steak that combines two cuts that are separated by a bone: there’s the soft, rich tenderloin on one side, and the firm and juicy sirloin on the other. There are two secrets to a great grilled steak: the quality of the meat (see the note about wagyu beef on page 92), and the seared crust that locks in the steak’s juices and flavors. You get the crust by cooking the steak over dry heat in a very hot grill or smoker.