Every April, Griffin Bufkin starts keeping an eye on the road outside his barbecue restaurant on Georgia’s St. Simon’s Island. Sooner or later, he knows, a 1950 Chevy will pull up, and a farmer from Vidalia will get out and ask him how many five-gallon buckets of onions he wants this year. A few weeks later, that fresh-from-the-field bounty arrives as promised and Bufkin gets to work adding them to the menu.
“I’ve cooked with Vidalia onions for as long as I can remember,” says the St. Simons native, who opened Southern Soul in 2006 with partner (and pitmaster) Harrison Sapp to ride the then-growing wave of new Southern barbecue. “It’s the best onion out there, so naturally sweet you can eat it like an apple.” The prized alliums first emerged in 1931, when a farmer planted yellow onions and the sandy soil in South Georgia turned the bulbs sweet. Now, registered growers in a twenty-county area around the town of Vidalia produce an annual 10,000-acre crop that’s harvested in late spring and into summer.
At Southern Soul, Bufkin makes his haul of onions into a savory pie-meets-dip dish to play alongside restaurant favorites like wood-smoked ribs and Brunswick stew, and patrons can eat it in-house or grab a whole pie to take away and bake at home.
“I just make this by sight and taste—no written recipe,” Bufkin says. “It is the creamiest, gooiest, cheesiest thing. We look forward to it every year.”
Below, he shares his process.
Make the easiest crust ever.
“I just use Ritz crackers and butter,” Bufkin says. He crushes up the crackers and mixes in enough butter to make a crust, and presses that into the bottom of the pie tin. No pre-baking necessary.
Cook down your onions.
For one pie Bufkin thinly slices about six onions on a mandolin and throws them in a large skillet on low heat, letting them cook down a little bit before adding any butter. “That’s my secret,” he says, “because Vidalia onions have a lot of water.” Once they start slightly sticking to the pan, he adds in unsalted butter and cooks them slowly until they are translucent.
Make the dressing.
While the onions are cooking, Bufkin whips up his dressing—a mixture of about a cup each of Duke’s mayonnaise, sour cream, and high-quality sharp cheddar cheese, plus a half cup of good Parmesan cheese and a four- or eight-ounce jar of sun-dried tomatoes, depending on how much you want in your pie. He whisks it all together and seasons to taste with salt, pepper, and smoked paprika.
Make the pie filling.
Once the onions have cooled a little bit, Bufkin folds his dressing into his onions. “You may not use all the dressing,” he says. “You’ve got to just go by texture, and bring it to the point where it’s at what you consider a good dipping consistency.”
Fill the pie crust and broil.
Then all that remains is to sprinkle some leftover Ritz cracker crumbs over the top and pop the pie in the oven to broil for five minutes or so. “Just take it out when it’s hot and bubbling,” Bufkin advises.
Enjoy.
In keeping with the dish’s laid-back preparation, you can eat the pie however you want—in a messy, gooey slice, or dipped with your favorite cracker.
