Pasta La Vista Baby: Gricia

This is the final week that we will be tucking into the history behind the four classic pastas of Rome: amatriciana, cacio e pepe, carbonara, and gricia. Pasta alla gricia (or griscia depending on the Italian dialect) is the forgotten pasta. This pork-forward pasta is often overshadowed by its famous friends: amatriciana, cacio e pepe, and carbonara. Pasta enthusiasts describe gricia as amatriciana minus the tomatoes, cacio e pepe with the addition of guanciale, and carbonara without the egg. But gricia is a leading lady in its own right. Undiscovered talent, if you will. A future pasta darling. While gricia is not yet a household name and has sadly escaped the limelight, it has been on the culinary scene for centuries. Pasta alla gricia’s “origin undoubtedly dates back to a time before the discovery of America given the absence of tomatoes,” as described on La Cucina Italiana.

Punctuated by perfect pieces of pork, piled high with Pecorino Romano, and perfumed with freshly ground black pepper, gricia may seem special and sinful by today’s standards, but it comes from humble beginnings. Once considered peasant food, gricia hails from Grisciano and derives its name from the small village. Many believe that gricia was introduced by shepherds arriving from the Apennines, as it was simple for shepherds to travel with cured meats and hard cheeses and “was modified when it reached the Italian capital,” as explained by Katie Parla in Tasting Rome. Various food historians contend that Ancient Roman taverns typically served pasta alla gricia.

Although this theory checks out, some "point to the word gricio, an early Roman term for bread-maker,” according to Cook’s Illustrated, as bread-makers, similar to shepherds, would have had access to staples like meats and cheeses and therefore presumably could have concocted pasta alla gricia. Others “claim it simply as a mispronunciation of the word grigia (“gray”), referring to the fact that the tomato-less sauce looks rather drab.” It’s an entertaining theory, but considering how saucy and glossy gricia is, it seems like a stretch.

 I hope you’ve enjoyed the deep dive into the history behind the four classic pastas of Rome and that it inspires you to expand your culinary horizons and experiment in the kitchen.

That's Amore: Amatriciana

Over the next couple of weeks, we will continue tucking into the history behind the four classic pastas of Rome: amatriciana, cacio e pepe, carbonara, and gricia. Last week, we greedily slurped up the history of cacio e pepe. This week, we are chowing down on a heaping, steamy, dreamy bowl of amatriciana.

Historians and chefs alike generally agree that pasta all’amatriciana clearly consists of bright jammy tomatoes, velvety and funky cured pork, and an avalanche of grated cheese, but that’s where the consensus ends. “As with every Roman recipe, l'amatriciana (or la matriciana to some) sparks lively discussions,” according to Katie Parla in Tasting Rome. Does amatriciana include garlic or onions? Amatriciana purists would swiftly and staunchly say no. But other chefs swear by the transformative addition of garlic, onions, or even shallots. Guanciale or pancetta? Chile or black pepper? Bucatini, a thicker spaghetti-like pasta, or bombolotti, a ridged, short, tubular pasta? Pecorino Romano or Parmigiano-Reggiano? And on and on. The variations of amatriciana are endless.

Much like its recipe, the origins of amatriciana are widely debated. Amatriciana is the descendent of pasta alla gricia, which was “considered a peasant food... initially prepared with guanciale and Pecorino Romano” as described on La Cucina Italiana. At the end of the 18th century, tomato was introduced into the Italian diet and without being dramatic, changed the course of Italian cuisine forever. "The first known written recipe of tomato sauce for pasta appears in the Italian cookbook L’Apicio moderno (The Modern Apicius) from 1790, by Roman chef Francesco Leonardi” as explained by Cook’s Illustrated. Where and when tomatoes were added to gricia to become amatriciana is debatable.

While amatriciana is famously one of the four classic pastas of Rome, Katie Parla notes “Amatrice, a village northeast of Rome, claims it originated there.” Echoing Tasting Rome, Cook’s Illustrated mentions that “Amatriciana was created and brought to Rome when, to escape the Apennines during winter, Amatrice shepherds came to sell their regional products.” As previously stated, amatriciana “also goes by the spelling “matriciana” in Rome. Some say this refers to the word matrice, which is the brand, or identification number that was pressed into the guanciale.”

It’s unclear where exactly pasta all’amatriciana originated from or even what the “right” recipe is; nevertheless, I encourage you to, when in the kitchen, roll up your sleeves, experiment with a few recipes, and figure out which version is your favorite.

La Dolce Vita: Cacio e Pepe

Over the next few weeks, we will continue tucking into the history behind the four classic pastas of Rome: amatriciana, cacio e pepe, carbonara, and gricia. Last week, we devoured the history of carbonara. This week, we are sitting down to a massive saucy plate of cacio e pepe. In Italian, cacio e pepe translates simply to cheese and pepper. Much like its name, cacio e pepe is straightforward and uncomplicated. It only has three ingredients. But don’t let that fool you! Cacio e pepe’s simplicity is what makes it so marvelously moreish. You’ll find yourself whipping a bowl up more often than you’d care to admit. The tangy, salty, and pungent Pecorino Romano, the vibrant and spicy freshly ground black pepper, and the starchy cooking water transform effortlessly and almost magically into a delicate sauce that coats every strand of pasta perfectly. It’s very nearly too easy to make and wildly too easy to eat.

Food historians continue to speculate about the proper origins of cacio e pepe. While Katie Parla in Tasting Rome contends that “like carbonara, cacio e pepe is a relative newcomer to the Roman repertoire, first arriving in the mid-twentieth century,” others suggest that “cacio e pepe has long been a Roman favorite that’s simply flown under the radar,” according to Cook’s Illustrated. These individuals believe that cacio e pepe descended from “a recipe called ‘de lasanis’ (which) calls for cut-up lasagna sheets, made from fermented dough, to be cooked in water and tossed with grated cheese.” This came from the 13th-century medieval Italian cookbook titled Liber de Coquina. Correspondingly, “Johann Wolfgang von Goethe published an account of his travels in Italy in the late 1700s, in which he writes of the pasta he encountered that was also dressed in cheese.” Was this the predecessor to cacio e pepe? Possibly, but no one can say for certain.

Some claim that cacio e pepe “first appeared centuries ago among shepherds” as described by Emily Monaco for the BBC. These shepherds would “tap into personal stores of dried pasta and pepper; cheap, easy to transport and resistant to spoilage, these two ingredients were combined with the cheese (made from milk of the herders’ flocks) to make a delicious, simple dish that kept them warm on cold evenings.” Furthering this legend, Alessandra Argiolas, marketing manager for Sardinian Pecorino producers Argiolas Formaggi, explains that “black pepper directly stimulates the heat receptors and helped the shepherds to protect themselves from the cold and the pasta guaranteed a lot of energy.” By many accounts, dishes like cacio e pepe and its cousin carbonara “likely got their start, not in the mountains, but in the mines and factories that once surrounded the Lazio region encompassing Rome, near where low-income families once lived,” according to Angelo Carotenuto, a native Roman and owner and manager of LivItaly Tours. Both are compelling arguments, considering the ingredients in cacio e pepe and carbonara (i.e., cheese, guanciale, and pasta) were inexpensive and didn’t spoil easily—not to mention, these dishes were hearty and satisfying making them ideal for hard-working shepherds and laborers alike. 

In the end, no one can pinpoint exactly when cacio e pepe originated or who precisely created it, but in the words of the late American chef Anthony Bourdain, cacio e pepe “could be the greatest thing in the history of the world.” Full of angst, he goes on to say, “if I'm in Rome for only 48 hours, I would consider it a sin against God to not eat cacio e pepe, the most uniquely Roman of pastas, in some crummy little joint where Romans eat.” Dramatic, but cacio e pepe is truly one of life’s simplest pleasures.

Roman Holiday: Carbonara

Over the next four weeks, we will tuck into the history behind the four classic pastas of Rome. Amatriciana, Cacio e Pepe, Carbonara, and Gricia.

First up to the plate: carbonara. Carbonara is silky and glossy, owing to the rich custardy eggs, the starchy pasta water, and the reckless amount of Parmigiano-Reggiano (or pecorino Romano) cheese, unctuous because of the rendered pork fat and zesty and lightly spicy due to the freshly ground black pepper—culminating in an utterly addicting dish. It’s simple, yet indulgent and luxurious.

 While we can all agree that carbonara is devilishly delicious, the origins of carbonara are quite elusive and widely debated. By many accounts, “carbonara first burst onto the scene in the mid-twentieth century” according to Katie Parla’s Tasting Rome. “A popular legend holds that American soldiers invented it after World War II, mixing their bacon rations with powdered eggs. It’s a fun story—but hard to prove.” Because carbonari is the Italian word for charcoal makers, many believe that the Italian coal miners concocted carbonara. Legend has it that these coal miners "would make the dish on their shovels over fires” as described by Cook’s Illustrated. “Or ‘carbonara’ might simply reference the ground black pepper that resembles flecks of coal.” Some scholars theorize that carbonara is connected to "pasta cacio e uova, a Neapolitan dish of pasta tossed with melted lard, beaten raw eggs, and cheese, as documented in Ippolito Cavalcanti's 1839 Neapolitan cookbook” and explained on La Cucina Italiana. There was even a Neapolitan secret society called the Carbonari. Can you imagine how incredibly controversial it would be if this legendary Roman pasta was actually invented in Naples? No one can say definitively where carbonara originated from or who exactly invented it, but it is clear that carbonara is firmly rooted in both Roman and global food culture and continues to grow, evolve, and take on different iterations.

Picture © 2021 Alison Roman

Fresh Out the Oven: Hot Cross Buns

Hot cross buns are traditionally served on Good Friday, the Friday before Easter Sunday. These golden yeasted buns are delightfully sweet, lightly spiced, chock full of candied fruit, and hard to miss on account of their heavenly (and sugary) icing crosses. While hot cross buns (in their most recognizable form) emerged around the 12th century by English monks, “archaeologists declare that the hot cross buns date back to pagan times when ancient Greeks offered small cakes to propitiate their gods” as explained in From an English Oven by Dorothy Gladys Spicer. Other archaeologists have discovered loaves of bread “marked by a cross” at Herculaneum in modern-day Campania, Italy. Even though it is contested where the hot cross bun truly originated from, they are now decidedly English. Buns of all sorts are a British institution. 

 The hot cross buns that we know and love were popularized during the Tudor period, according to English Bread and Yeast Cookery by Elizabeth David. Spiced buns, cakes, and loaves were all the rage, but during the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, “bakers were permitted to offer these breads and buns for sale only on special occasions,” i.e., burials, Christmas, and the Friday before Easter. If Englishmen (and women) were so inclined to have hot cross buns at a private celebration, they would have to bake these specialty buns at home.  

By the beginning of the 19th century, the fame of the Good Friday buns reached new heights: pastry cooks and bakers all across London were competing in making the best hot cross buns. From dawn until dusk, hordes of people assembled around the vendors, selling these specialty buns and causing a staggering amount of traffic and ruckus in the street—even in the boiling summer months and the frigid winter season. Hot cross buns simply cost one or two pennies (or pence, if you’re feeling cheeky), which was a far better deal than making these famous buns at home.

Today, hot cross buns are much lighter than their stodgy predecessors and carry far fewer superstitions. According to an old English wives’ tale, and a quite popular one at that, “Good Friday buns do not become stale, but retain their freshness until the following year; they protect homes from fire, corn from mice, sailors from shipwreck and cloths from moths, and have the power to cure diseases of cattle and men!” While I can’t promise that a hot cross bun will cure all that ails you, I can imagine, between the flour, sugar, and butter, it can come pretty darn close.

Central City Makers Market

Save the date for March 27! The Southern Food & Beverage Museum is hosting the Central City Makers Market in our gorgeous Gumbo Garden from 12:00 p.m. to 4:00 p.m. We’re getting together our favorite (and the best, if we do say so ourselves) makers in the food and beverage industry (socially distanced, of course)! We’re selling hundreds of vintage cookbooks. Coalesce Goods, Dee-Lightful Desserts, Gourmand New Orleans, Jamboree Jams, Fish Hawk NOLA, Buttery Spell, Sheaux Fresh Sustainable Foods, Wolf 'n' Swallow, JunMagnolia, Viola's Heritage Breads, Hood Cream, Farm to Funk Ferments, and Milkfish are joining us for our inaugural market. You can buy everything from fresh produce, jam, and delightful desserts to charcuterie, fish, and vegan goods all while listening to live music. AND so much more. We will even have a bar stocked to the brim with delicious libations by Laura Bellucci so you so you can sip and shop the afternoon away.

Layers of Flavor: Bon Appétit's English Trifle Recipe

"The ideal do-ahead dessert for Christmas dinner. The recipe requires three batches of custard, and we recommend that you prepare each batch separately to avoid burning or lumping."

10 servings

36 1 1/2 inch almond macaroons

1/3 to 1/2 cup amaretto liqueur

1 12-ounce jar seedless red raspberry jam

Custard (Makes 1 1/4 cups)

4 egg yolks

3 tablespoons sugar

10 tablespoons milk

1/4 cup whipping cream

2 1/2 teaspoons cornstarch dissolved in

2 tablespoons milk

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

1 12-ounce pound cake, cut into

1/4-inch slices (about 16 to 17)

1/2 to 2/3 cup cream Sherry

4 10-ounce packages frozen raspberries, thawed and drained thoroughly

2 cups (1 pint) whipping cream

2 tablespoons sugar

1/2 teaspoon vanilla or to taste

Brush flat side of 12 to 15 macaroons with liqueur. Arrange flat sides around the sides of 12-cup glass bowl, then line bottom flat side up. Spread generously with red raspberry jam, being careful not to crush macaroons.

For custard: Whisk yolks in medium saucepan. Gradually add sugar, whisking until mixture is thick and lemon colored, about 1 to 2 minutes. Blend in milk, whipping cream and cornstarch mixture. Place over medium-low heat and cook, stirring constantly, until mixture thickens, about 3 to 5 minutes (do not boil or mixture will separate). Remove from the heat and stir slightly cooled. Blend in vanilla and nutmeg. Transfer to bowl. Repeat twice, for a total of about 3 3/4 cups custard.

Spoon 1 1/4 cups custard over raspberry jam layer. Cover with single layer of pound cake slices. Using pastry brush, soak cake generously with 1/4 to 1/3 cup Sherry. Spread thin layer of raspberry jam over cake. Top with half of drained raspberries. Carefully spoon another 1 1/4 cups custard over berries. Repeat layering with remaining pound cake slices, Sherry, and jam. Cover with remaining berries. Carefully spread remaining custard over top.

Brush 8 or 9 macaroons with liqueur and arrange over custard flat side down. Place plastic wrap directly on surface of trifle. Refrigerate overnight. (Can be prepared up to 2 days ahead.) About 3 to 4 hours before serving, whip cream in a medium bowl until foamy. Add sugar and vanilla and continue beating until stiff but not dry. Spoon over macaroons, swirling top. Crush 10 to 12 macaroons. Sprinkle 1-inch boarder around the cream. Refrigerate until serving time.

Bon Appétit December 1981 from the John & Bonnie Boyd Hospitality & Culinary Library at SOFAB.

The Whiskey Cocktail & The Old-Fashioned

The whiskey cocktail was often made with rye, sugar, water, and bitters. As time passed, it became a more common drink. It was widely sold, made with various spirits, in New York in the 1830s. As the nineteenth century progressed, the drink changed, and its ingredients were varied. Indeed, it changed so much that the simple, original drink became known as the old-fashioned.

New Orleanians may not have been early rye enthusiasts, but the liquor did eventually catch on. In 1884 and 1885, many tourists travelled to the city for the World Cotton Exposition. Journalists and New Orleans observer Lafcadio Hearn published a cookbook for those visitors called La Cuisine Creole, which contained some of the special foods that have made New Orleans famous, such as gumbo and jambalaya. It also included recipes for drinks then being enjoyed in New Orleans, suggesting that drinking cocktails was an essential part of the city's culture. 

Here is the recipe for the whiskey, brandy, or gin cocktail from La Cuisine Creole:

Two dashes of Boker’s, Angostura, or Peychaud’s bitters—either will make a fine cocktail. One lump of sugar, one-piece of lemon peel, one tablespoon of water, one wineglassful of liquor, etc., with plenty of ice. Stir well and strain into a cocktail glass. 

The old-fashioned, when made with rye, is not as sweet as the drink made with bourbon. This is also true about the Sazerac. Most Sazerac recipes today call for rye. 

Chris [McMillian] explains that despite the claim of Pendennis Club in Louisville, Kentucky, to have invented the old-fashioned, it more likely originated from the frequent requests of customers that a cocktail be made in the old-fashioned way, without new ingredients.

The old-fashioned is a built cocktail glass. It is built in the glass, not shaken and then poured into the glass.  

Chris McMillian’s Old-Fashioned

—Makes 1 drink—

One sugar cube

5 drops of Angostura bitters

1 tablespoon water

1 piece fresh orange peel

Ice

2 ounces spirits

Cherry, orange slice, cocktail pick, and a swizzle stick for garnish

1. Place sugar cube, bitters, and water in an old-fashioned glass and muddle them together until the sugar is completely dissolved and liquid is clear. [Chris prefers to use a cube of sugar and water instead of simple syrup so that he can control the dilution.] Add orange peel and muddle again to release the oils.

2. Fill the prepared glass with ice. Pour spirits over ice.

3. Spear a cherry and an orange slice onto cocktail pick for garnish. Serve with a swizzle stick. Each sip will change as the ice melts and affects the dilution of the drink.

Today, there are variations of the old-fashioned using many different spirits, from tequila to rum. But the principles are the same: spirits, water, sugar, and bitters. The cocktail.

Menus at the Home Table

The menu – that familiar list of the offerings at a meal – has been around for centuries. By the 18th century it had become the selection of offerings at the developing restaurants of Paris. And in the 19th and even the 20th century besides its restaurant function, the menu had come to be used as a way to introduce and commemorate a special meal at home. 

Going to a restaurant and reading the menu has become commonplace for most of us. Whether a printed program on card stock, a daily sheet printed via laser printer each day, a chalkboard list of offerings, or a list on a digital tablet, the menu helps us plan what we want to eat at the meal. At a table d’hote meal it helps us anticipate our courses, and even take home as a memento. The commonplace menu didn’t even exist until the development of the restaurant in Paris, but our eating habits have been totally influenced by the menu and the restaurant.

I love using a written menu at home – whether entertaining friends or having a special family meal. It makes the meal all the more festive. Not only can the menu be an unusual and fun remembrance of the event, it can make the dinner more fun simply by its novelty. Imagine placing a printed or hand written menu at each place. Before the first course your guests will be anticipating a wonderful time. 

The menu can simply be something copied and set out at each place, serving a place card and menu. You can make the menu as beautiful and elaborate as your time, imagination and wallet can support. My favorite menus are those decorated by my children, and now my grandchildren. The perfection in execution is less important than their participation. Scribbled color by a 2 year old artist is as special as practiced calligraphy in a personal menu.

After each meal you can date the menu and list the guests. Be sure to have an extra menu in case a menu becomes unusable. You want one for your file. And you want everyone to be invested enough in the menus to take them home. Don’t be bothered by a wine glass ring or other stains. That is part of the memory. Keeping the annotated menu helps you remember the drinks, the wine, the food and the people who were there. Sometimes I even make a note of how I served something or the dishes we used. You remember what worked and what needs to be tweaked. And you can keep yourself from serving the same thing to the same people next time, unless serving it becomes a family tradition.

But ultimately having a record that has many functions – its look influences the feel of the event, your course descriptions set a tone of anticipation and enjoyment, the menu is a memento, and of course the menu is a record – is a lovely thing. You build your personal record one menu at a time. And that collection becomes a cherished artifact of your life for your children and grandchildren.

Sinister Spirits: Absinthe

One indication of a continued connection between New Orleans and Paris was the popularity of absinthe in both cities. With its high alcohol content, its ritual, and its mysterious ability to louche or become cloudy and greenish in color, absinthe was the drink of choice of the demimonde. Arthur Rimbaud, Edgar Degas, and Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec were among those on the Continent who were companions of la fée verte. Oscar Wilde and Edgar Allen Poe were known to consort with the Green Fairy, as absinthe was called. They and other bohemians enjoyed its so-called dangerous nature, feeling the frisson of naughtiness for drinking the stuff and experiencing its effects, basking in the disapproval of conventional society. 

Absinthe gets its name from Artemisia absinthium, or wormwood, a silver-leaved, bitter, anise-flavored herb that had been used since the Egyptians as a vermicide. The spirit’s green cast comes from a high amount of chlorophyll. Traditionally, it was drunk with a lump of sugar and water and with great ceremony. The paraphernalia and preparation rite no doubt added to absinthe’s mystique and appeal. 

A fountain with spigots was used to pour cold water in a controlled stream or to skip it slowly over a sugar cube. A decoratively pierced spoon held the lump of sugar over the drink glass, allowing the water to filter the absinthe below. If there was no fountain, water could be slowly poured from a pitcher or carafe. French cartoons make fun of the heights from which the water was poured to ensure a proper louche. The oils from the herbs that are macerated in the spirits (and that give the absinthe its flavor) dissolve in the alcohol. Where there is sufficient water in the glass, the oils become cloudy and change color.

Although absinthe was available in many coffeehouses and saloons in New Orleans, Old Absinthe House, at the corner of Bienville and Bourbon Streets, was graced with legendary fountains. Built in 1806, the building was used as a food wholesaler, an épicurie, and even a bookshop before it became home to Aleix’s Coffee House in 1846, run by Jacinto Aleix and his family. Like other coffeehouses in the city, it served alcohol. Later, bartender Cayetano Ferrér began serving the popular Absinthe Frappé. In 1874 Ferrér, who had leased the place, renamed it the Absinthe Room. Later it was names the Old Absinthe House. 

The building was nailed shit during Prohibition, and it remained dark. But the marble bar, the cash register, the familiar paintings, and the fountains were removed from the building by Piece Cassebonne. who bought them to created the Old Absinthe House Bar on Bourbon Street. In 2004, the furnishings were returned to their original home, where they can be seen today. The most important features are the green marble fountains, each topped with a bronze figure and equipped with spigots for dripping. Notable features of these fountains are their extremely pitted limestone bases. Some explain the pitting as the result of gallons and gallons of water dripping drop by drop onion the limestone, eroding depressions into the surface. Others believed the pitting is too extensive to have been caused by the simple dripping of water. It is also speculated that the fountains may have been used as a seltzer fountain. The acidic nature of seltzer would have gradually eaten into the limestone, causing the pitted surface. 

Because of health concerns associated with the compound thujone found in absinthe, the spirit was banned in the United States in 1912, and was not legal again until 2007. Ted Breaux, and environmental chemist originally from New Orleans, reverse-engineered pre-ban absinthe. Breaux determined that absinthe made with wormwood contains only minute quantities of thujone. Thujone was considered toxic and was incorrectly thought to be responsible from the erratic behavior of some absinthe drinkers. Breaux determined that the government ban on absinthe was based on pseudoscience; he used real science, in the form of a mass spectrometer, to prove that thujone was not present in sufficient quantity in absinthe to have any deleterious effects. Breaux now produces his own absinthe at a distillery in Saumur, France. 

Two New Orleans brothers, Ray and B. J. Bordelon, recently became fascinated with absinthe, as well as its paraphernalia. They love the taste of absinthe, and they have become historians of the drink and collectors of the special artifacts surrounding its ritual. In 2003, they created the Absinthe Museum in a shop on Royal Street. The shop closed in 2010, and the brothers reopened La Galerie d’Absinthe inside the Southern Food & Beverage Museum. The exhibit is one of the largest collections of absinthe artifacts on display in the United States. The exhibit also educated museum visitors on the history of absinthe in New Orleans, including the famous people who imbibed the drink in the city, such as Mark Twain, Walt Whitman, and Lafcadio Hearn.

Food Culture in Times of Crisis

Everything we know about restaurants and cooking at home has been flipped on its axis. But amidst the stress, the frenzy, and the sadness of current times, restaurants and home cooks alike are adapting quickly and showing up for each other and their communities. 

At Restaurants...

Many restaurants have become takeout/delivery-only establishments. Along the entire spectrum, fine dining to casual dining, to-go boxes and curbside pick-ups have become a new norm. If you have a local restaurant you want to support, ordering a meal in from them is a great way to help (and get a great meal in the process). 

Other restaurants have transformed their spaces into food pantries. Bulk orders that would have previously been used to prepare meals are instead being given out to unemployed restaurant staff. If you have any interest in contributing to this cause, consider donating to the Restaurant Relief Program. The Restaurant Relief Program is turning closed restaurants into relief centers for local chefs and restaurant workers in need of food and supplies in cities all over the country, including New York City, Washington DC, Atlanta, Nashville, and Houston. 

Restaurants are stepping up to provide food for others who are in need in their communities as well. World Central Kitchen, a non-profit that focuses on hunger solutions in times of crisis, has partnered with restaurants all over the country for the #ChefsForAmerica campaign. The organization works directly with these restaurants to provide meals in various cities for food-insecure families, frontline healthcare workers, and seniors who are isolated for safety reasons. World Central Kitchen provides almost 200,000 individually packaged meals per day. This initiative not only provides food for those in need, but keeps restaurant workers and delivery service workers employed. Check out the World Central Kitchen website for more information about donations and volunteering. 

The Krewe of Red Beans, in New Orleans, Louisiana, started the Feed the Front Line initiative in order to support the staff of restaurants, musicians and artists out of work, and frontline healthcare workers alike. Restaurants prepare meals for healthcare workers, and musicians and artists safely deliver the meals. The group also recently unveiled its new Feed the Second Line initiative, which will focus on providing food and employment to the “culture bearers” of the city, such as brass bands and Mardi Gras Indians. If you want to support the Krewe of Red Beans in their endeavors, click here to learn more. 

At Home…

For many people, spending time at home means spending more time in the kitchen. More time and attention than ever is being spent on fine-tuning skills, learning how to prepare new dishes, and perfecting recipes. Additionally, cooking and baking can be soothing activities, making them ideal for this stressful time. 

Many chefs are providing online cooking demonstrations during this time as well. Instagram Live allows followers to stream live content from these chefs, as well as comment questions that chefs can respond to. Italian restaurateur Massimo Bottura, Top Chef host Padma Lakshmi, Food Network chef Michael Symon, and Milk Bar’s Christina Tosi are just a few of the many who are hosting cooking lessons on their Instagram accounts.  

Food publications have been working hard to provide recipes galore for budding and seasoned home cooks alike. Bon Appetit, The New York Times, and Barefoot Contessa are great recipe resources. Samin Nosrat, author of Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat, has also created Home Cooking, a podcast where she shares her experiences cooking during quarantine, answers cooking questions, and provides recipe inspiration. 

The socializing that used to be done at restaurants and bars now has a new setting. Zoom and Facetime dinner parties and happy hours have grown to be popular replacements. People are also utilizing video call technology to communicate with older relatives for advice about family recipes. Although families and friends may be physically far from each other, cooking is helping to make everybody feel a little closer together.  

---

Restaurants are stepping up to new roles and the number of home cooks is growing every day. We are learning new ways to adapt and connect, and will likely have to continue to learn and adjust throughout the coming months. Although change is constant these days, food is a consistent part of our lives.

Junior League Cookbook Classics

The Junior League is a women’s volunteer organization started in New York City in 1901. Today there are over 290 leagues. Aside from volunteer work, Junior League organizations are also known for their noteworthy cookbooks. The women of Junior Leagues would compile recipes and publish cookbooks. The profit from cookbook sales goes towards supporting community projects and programs in the League’s area. Many of the recipes featured in these cookbooks have been passed through families for generations, reflect regional cuisine, and are favorites of the women who contributed them. There are over 200 fabulous Junior League cookbooks, and we’ve rounded up some of the top ones from the South.

Charleston Receipts

Published in 1950, Charleston Receipts is the oldest Junior League cookbook still in print. The book contains 750 recipes, including Charleston classics, such as Awendaw spoonbread and shrimp and grits. In 1986, a  follow up book, Charleston Receipts Repeats (pictured above), was published.

Talk About Good

In 1967, the Junior League of Lafayette published this popular cookbook about the rich food culture of Cajun country. The title of the book comes from a Cajun phrase.  Says Lisa Mann Breaux, former cookbook committee chairwoman, “It’s that old small-town culture of tight knit families. When you get someone’s grandmother’s best recipes, you know it’s going to be good.” 

Talk About Good II

The widely successful follow up to Talk About Good, this cookbook has sold over 200,000 copies and is in its 10th reprint. Alongside wonderful Cajun recipes, the book features 12 full-color prints from George Rodrigue who is known for his “Blue Dog” art pieces. Talk About Good II’s 40-year anniversary is being celebrated at the Southern Food and Beverage Museum until March 3rd, 2020!

River Road Recipes

Created by the Junior League of Baton Rouge, River Road Recipes is the #1 best selling community cookbook series in the nation. It has sold 1.3 million copies since it was published in 1959. The book shows readers the wonderful world of Creole cooking. Follow up books include, River Road Recipes II: A Second Helping,  River Road Recipes III: A Healthy Collection, and River Road Recipes IV: Warm Welcomes.

The Southern Junior League Cookbook

This cookbook includes recipes from 29 different junior leagues, from Atlanta to El Paso to Mobile to Tampa. It includes diverse Southern recipes from nearly three centuries. The first edition of the book was published in 1977.

These cookbooks are just the tip of the iceberg - there are many other Junior League classics to explore.  A few include Tea Time at the Masters, Southern on Occasion, Virginia Hospitality, Jambalaya, and Recipe Jubilee.

Looking to learn more? The Talk About Good II exhibit at the Southern Food and Beverage Museum will be open until March 3, 2020. The exhibit contains stories from cookbook contributors, kitchen tools and equipment from the late 1970’s and early 1980’s, George Rodrigue’s original artwork, and a collection of Junior League cookbooks from all over the country.

The Meat of the Matter by Liz Williams

We are experiencing an increase in our appreciation for delicious food in many forms. We are also becoming aware of the societal and environmental costs of precious eating. And as more and more people explore this thing - food and drink - that everyone needs to survive, the very study of it makes it change.

So it is no wonder that our public awareness of food as a social and cultural indicator has grown, that museums have reflected that awareness. The Southern Food & Beverage Museum in New Orleans has been open since 2008 and has been mounting pop-up exhibits since 2004. The relevance of the museum has not grown, because collecting the material culture of food and drink was already a neglected aspect of culture when the museum began. But the recognition of the museum's relevance has continued to grow. This may be partly because the reputation of SoFAB has grown. But the primary reason for the recognition of the museum's relevance is due to the increasing awareness and acceptance of food as a reflection of culture.

The museum's relevance can be seen in increasing numbers of visitors, increasing mentions in the press, increasing exhibits in all museums of food and drink related subjects, increase in the interest in creating food and beverage museums, and the amount of controversy over the actions of chefs, farmers and fishers, and eaters.

Becoming something so ordinary that people simply accept its cultural relevance without question means that being a food and drink museum or an exhibit about food and drink at a museum will soon be an expectation of the exploration of culture, as opposed to a curiosity. Food will not be a fetish, but a cultural marker. Industries like meat processing and tuna canning will want to see their cultural history preserved, not just the science and history of its technology. When that happens our fixation on food as a cutting edge medium for artistic exploration may cool, but the need to preserve food and drink history, culture and material may be normalized and expected. And only then will be have reintroduced food and drink to its true place in our culture.