Gravy

Few companies have inspired more fanatical devotion among Texans than the convenience chain Buc-ee's. Described by the New York Times as both a “Disneyland of roadside capitalism” and the “through line of America's second most sprawling state,” its iconic, buck-toothed beaver mascot has been spotted not just on billboards, but on wedding cakes and tattooed arms of its most loyal customers. Founded as a small-town gas station, today it boasts 47 locations across the South known for massive floor spaces brimming with souvenirs, fudge, BBQ stations, cases of jerky, and walls of branded snacks like “beaver nuggets.”  Yet unlike other treasured Lone Star enterprises like Whataburger, Blue Bell, or the grocery chain H-E-B, Buc-ee's ascendance has been a fast, recent phenomenon. They are also far from the first convenience chain to endear themselves to travelers through reliably clean restrooms, kitschy gifts and road food. In fact, one could argue they stand on the shoulders of the Georgia-born Stuckey's, whose nutty treats sparked a mid-century rest stop empire.  Today, both brands find themselves at a crossroads. Buc-ee's is rapidly expanding, while following years of corporate mismanagement and decline, Stuckey's is rebuilding itself one pecan log roll at a time.  In this episode we'll ride shotgun with Gravy producer Evan Stern as he explores how food has shaped these companies' brand identities, how they're grappling with change, and what their stories reveal about the past, present, and future of snacking on the American road. Along the way, we'll step inside a Buc-ee's that sprawls over 65,000 square feet, get to know some devoted customers, and hear from journalist Eric Benson, who argues this chain has come to symbolize 21st-century Texas. We'll also meet Stephanie Stuckey, who, following a career in politics and environmental law, now serves as the chair of Stuckey's. She shares her grandfather's journey from pecan broker to gas station magnate, how she envisions Stuckey's evolving, and why the road trip remains ingrained in the company's DNA. The resulting piece is a profile of two brands that have shaped and continue to make American highways a “corridor of consumption.” Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Oh, Snapper! Mislabeled Mississippi Seafood,” Gravy producer Boyce Upholt takes listeners to Biloxi, Mississippi—a town that has long called itself the Seafood Capital of the World. But in May 2024, shocking news hit the community: Mary Mahoney's Old French House, an iconic restaurant, pleaded guilty to conspiracy to misbrand fish and wire fraud. For years, the iconic 60-year-old establishment had been selling cheap imported fish as premium local Gulf seafood, defrauding more than 55,000 customers. What makes this story particularly fascinating is the public's reaction, or lack thereof. Despite learning they'd been deceived, loyal diners packed Mary Mahoney's after the guilty plea, with customers posting on Facebook about their continued support for “their favorite restaurant.” This unexpected response reveals the complexities of the local identity in a place that is grappling with economic and environmental change. Biloxi's seafood industry once thrived on genuine abundance. Indigenous peoples had harvested oysters here for thousands of years, and by 1904, the town earned its “seafood capital” moniker through a booming cannery industry that shipped Gulf oysters nationally and internationally. But the same forces that built Biloxi's reputation—industrialization and globalization—eventually undermined it. Imported seafood began dragging down local prices in the 1980s, and disasters like Hurricane Katrina and the Deepwater Horizon oil spill further devastated the fishing fleet. Mary Mahoney's fraud, meanwhile, turned out to be just the tip of an iceberg. A consulting group used genetic testing and found that out of 44 area restaurants, only 8 were properly labeling their shrimp. Yet Biloxi's dining scene is also experiencing a renaissance. Chefs like Alex Perry at Vestige and Austin Sumrall at White Pillars have earned James Beard nominations while championing local ingredients and sustainable sourcing. Even at more casual spots like Bradley's—located inside a gas station—proprietors prove that serving authentic Gulf seafood can be both affordable and profitable. What parts of Biloxi's identity matter? What does it mean, really, to be local? As Biloxi transforms from a working fishing port into a tourist destination dotted with casinos and chain restaurants, the town faces a choice about what parts of its heritage to preserve. The seafood fraud scandal serves as a mirror, reflecting not just economic pressures but cultural ones—revealing how a community that built its identity on the ocean's bounty must now decide whether that connection still matters. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Gravy podcast is excited to share a special episode of a new podcast called Buzzkill, from our friends at FERN, the Food and Environmental Reporting Network. Buzzkill explores the dramatic decline of pollinators, including the American bumblebee, whose numbers have plummeted by 90% in just two decades. The series, hosted by Teresa Cotsilos, delves into how industrial monocultures, rampant chemical use, and unsustainable land practices threaten pollinators—and, by extension, three-fourths of the food crops we grow. This show is the first episode in the six-part series. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The Cuban sandwich. If it's made with ingredients different from someone else's recipe, you might find yourself in an hours-long argument in the middle of Little Havana. In Miami and Tampa, Florida, restaurant owners, historians, and Cuban Americans recount their own memories of the Cuban sandwich, as well as the story of its origins. In this episode of Gravy, reporter Kayla Stewart explores the sandwich's long-standing origin story, new research about the Cuban sandwich, and how the South influenced the sandwich's popularity and the current identity of Floridian Cuban Americans. Gravy thanks La Segunda Bakery, Sanguich de Miami, and Ana Sofia Pelaez, author of The Cuban Table, for contributions to this episode. Kayla Stewart is a James Beard Award-winning food and travel journalist, cookbook author, and a Senior Editor at Eater. Her work has been featured in Eater, The New York Times, The Washington Post, Travel + Leisure, Food & Wine, and others. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “A Muddy Future for Louisiana Crawfish,” Gravy producer Eva Tesfaye traces the aftermath of the summer of 2023, when a severe drought in Louisiana devastated the 2024 crawfish season. The dry soil and extreme heat killed the crawfish while they were still burrowed underground, meaning when farmers flooded their fields in the fall, they found their harvest would be dismal for the spring. That caused both farmers and consumers to suffer. In Louisiana, where crawfish are normally around $3 per pound, prices reached as high as $9 a pound. In Texas, it was even higher, around $12 a pound.   Tesfaye followed this story while it was happening, and it left her with a new question: With climate change bringing more extreme weather, are there ways to protect the state's beloved mudbugs? To answer that question, she talked to Michael Moreaux, a crawfish farmer experimenting with different agricultural practices to attempt to produce healthy crawfish that can weather anything.   By focusing on the health of his female crawfish, using native grasses to feed them and filtering the water in his ponds, Michael seems to be producing tasty, resilient crawfish. He wants farmers and academics alike to take a look at his work, but the way the crawfish industry is set up makes it difficult for farmers to innovate, and academia doesn't have enough crawfish specialists to solve all the problems threatening the state's harvest.   One person interested in Michael's methods is the young farmer Bruno Sagrera, who is struggling to break into the crawfish industry. Having grown up on a crawfish farm, he believes there are dire problems with the way crawfish are farmed today, but can't get his family to buy into the practices he wants to try—so he's on his own.   Both Michael and Bruno want to improve crawfish farming practices so that Louisianans can continue to eat the beloved mudbugs for generations to come. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Fruitcake in Space,” Gravy producer Bronwen Wyatt explores a bizarre footnote in the annals of human space travel. In 1968, a scientist at a military research facility developed a very unusual recipe: a nutritionally-fortified fruitcake designed as an emergency ration for astronauts. It might be easy to dismiss this fruitcake, but we're here to argue that it's part of a larger story—one that takes us from the early days of NASA's space program to our current quest for Mars. Wyatt investigates the importance of safe preservation techniques in space, how NASA determines what food astronauts will actually eat, and why fruitcake actually makes perfect sense as an emergency ration.   In an archival interview from 1966, dietician Mary Klicka at the Natick Laboratory Army Research, Development, and Engineering Center points to the unique challenges of preparing acceptable menus for long-term space travel. Wyatt speaks to Vickie Kloeris, who managed NASA's food systems for nearly thirty years from the laboratory at Johnson Space Center in Houston, and Jennifer Levasseur, a curator specializing in food at the Air and Space Museum. Finally, retired astronaut Cady Coleman shares her perspective on dining in orbit. Coleman, who volunteered for the role of "food czar" on the International Space Station, tells how food becomes a form of currency and a tool for building camaraderie among astronauts.   Kloeris, Levasseur, and Coleman emphasize that dining space is about more than the mechanical function of obtaining enough calories to survive. Even in the most barren environments, our cultural drive to bond over food is a connection to our lives on earth and part of what makes us human. The selection and preparation of food—work that is often dismissed as inconsequential domestic labor—is a crucial part of the success of any mission in space. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Got (Raw) Milk? The Small Family Dairy Farms Behind a Big Controversy,” Gravy producer Bianca Garcia takes listeners to Milky Way Farm, the last dairy in Anderson County, South Carolina, where raw milk sales are keeping the Peeler family afloat.   Their neighbors have succumbed to the pressures that have defined a generation of farmers. Between 2003 and 2022, South Carolina—where the state beverage is a glass of cold milk—lost 75 percent of licensed dairy operations. They have found their market in a niche constituency, though the wider public might disapprove. Raw milk is a risky product, often considered a public health risk.   Raw milk is unpasteurized, meaning it hasn't been through a sanitizing kill step. Scientists worry that it can make consumers vulnerable to bacterial or viral infection, but raw milk lovers can't get enough of the creamy taste and allegedly healthful properties.   This debate is situated in what seems to be a public health emergency. Reports of bird flu infecting dairy cattle leave public health officials worried that drinking raw milk can spread disease. Under the Trump presidency, Secretary of the Department of Health and Human Services Robert F. Kennedy Jr. has vowed to increase public access to raw milk as a part of his Make America Healthy Again agenda. Raw influencers and “tradwives” promote it endlessly on social media. Through all this noise, it's easy to lose sense of the fact that this is an issue that starts on the farm.   In this episode, you will hear from L.D. Peeler, acting patriarch of Milky Way Farm, his daughter, Iris, and son, Davis. Each plays a role on their small family farm, which raises 120 Jersey cows: Davis works on the farm, L.D. manages the finances, and Iris does the public relations. They each have different, but entangled, stories to tell.   At Milky Way Farm, we are reminded that, just like any other food, raw milk starts with the land, the animals, and the people that make it possible. Guided by the community's desire for a tasty and safe product, the Peelers have shaped their business to meet this need. Thus, in the face of economic pressures of the dairy industry and cultural pressures around the product, they have risen above—like the cream beneath the lid of their bottled pints. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “What's in Store for the Pawpaw Patch?” Gravy producer Anya Groner examines the pawpaw, a long-overlooked fruit that's now being domesticated, making its way into farmers' markets, restaurants, and even beer. What plant has leaves that smell like green pepper, fruit that can taste like pineapple or turpentine, and bark that can be woven into baskets? Enter the poor man's banana, also known as the pawpaw. Two decades ago, you'd be hard-pressed to find a nursery with a pawpaw tree for sale, but these days the mid-sized tree and its fruit has a near cult following. Though indigenous to the eastern United States, pawpaw trees fell out of popular consciousness for almost a century. The reason is at least in part economic. The fruit ripens and rots so quickly that it's never been commercially viable. But, in recent years the northern-most variety of “custard apple,” a family of trees that includes the soursop and cherimoya, has had a remarkable comeback. Over two decades ago, horticulturalist Neal Peterson sparked a renewed interest in the fruit after patenting seven pawpaw cultivars, which he bred for flavor, low seed count, and perishability. Yet not everyone lauds the growing popularity of pawpaws. Dr. Troy Wiipongwii, Director of Innovation and Entrepreneurship in Conservation at the College of William and Mary, says this surge of interest could backfire, causing an overproduction of the fruit that ultimately hurts the ecosystem. And Sean Wilson, who uses pawpaws to flavor seasonal beers at FullSteam Brewery in Durham, North Carolina, worries that too much cultivation might result in a bland fruit.  So what's next? Will pawpaws become the next “it” fruit, destined to flavor everything from soap to cocktails? Or will oversupply collapse the market and leave us with a flavorless fruit? In this episode, Groner takes us to a festival in Paw Paw, West Virginia, to explore what we lose and what we gain as America's largest indigenous fruit, the pawpaw, is bred for market. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Flambéed! The Art & Theater of Bananas Foster,” Gravy producer Eve Troeh takes listeners to Brennan's, the iconic restaurant in New Orleans' French Quarter, where skilled servers pull off one sensational culinary feat, table after table and day after day—Bananas Foster, flambéed tableside. Brennan's opened its doors more than seventy years ago, and its early years coincided with a hot trend in fine dining at the time: tableside dishes. Many know this practice, when a server wheels over a small cart to your table and makes a dish right in front of you. One of the iconic recipes in this pantheon of the tableside tradition is Bananas Foster, a rum-laden flambéed dessert that was invented at Brennan's in 1951. Today, the dish appears on menus worldwide, and Brennan's serves the original day and night, dazzling diners with a fiery display. The ritual of tableside dining, once a hallmark of fine establishments, originates in European opulence, where elaborate presentations convey status and sophistication. While the tradition waned in the 1960s and 70s, Brennan's steadfastly preserves it, offering not only Bananas Foster but a repertoire of tableside classics, each dish a testament to culinary craftsmanship. So what is it like to produce this “show” of Bananas Foster, day in and day out? For the staff at Brennan's, mastering the art of tableside service is a rite of passage. It takes a special kind of server to pull it off, as well as intensive training, special equipment, and a careful attention to safety as the dessert's rum and liqueur sauce is lit. For Gravy, Troeh visits the Big Easy to speak with Christian Pendleton, general manager at Brennan's, and Chalaine Celestain, a Brennan's captain (or leading server) for whom tableside preparations are one part of a complex repertoire. From controlling the flames to engaging guests in the experience, she embodies the spirit of hospitality that defines Brennan's. Maureen Costura, professor of liberal arts and food studies at the Culinary Institute of America, offers historical context. Despite the occasional mishap, the allure of tableside dining endures, offering patrons a glimpse into a bygone era of elegance and charm. For Christian and his team, it's not just about serving a meal; it's about creating memories and fostering connections with each guest. In an ever-changing culinary landscape, Brennan's remains a bastion of tradition, where the art of tableside dining continues to captivate and delight. As long as there are flames to ignite and stories to tell, Bananas Foster will remain a cherished tradition, ensuring that the legacy of Brennan's lives on for generations to come. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Conch: Queen of the Florida Keys,” Gravy producer Adwoa Gyimah-Brempong takes listeners to the Keys, where queen conch is plastered across menus: conch fritters, conch salad, even conch chowder. The shells are a visual icon in Key West, even gracing its (semi-joking) flag as a sovereign nation: The Conch Republic. Which is fascinating… because conch hasn't been fished on the island in fifty years. So where is it coming from, where is it going, and why is the culture so enduring? Conch is beloved both culturally and culinarily across the Caribbean, and the cuisine made its way to the Keys with an influx of Bahamians in the 1800s. It became a symbol of the slow way of life on the island, which chef Martin Liz points out is 40 miles closer to Cuba than it is to the nearest Walmart. It's high in protein, easy to catch, versatile to prepare, and provides everything from building materials to precious pearls once harvested. But in the Florida Keys, conch was overfished to the point of near collapse in the 1970s and ‘80s. The reasons that it hasn't rebounded are being studied by scientists in Florida and elsewhere, because their numbers are falling throughout the waters where it makes its home. Due to a combination of overfishing, warming waters, and changing ocean pH, it's getting harder for conch to reach sexual maturity. And as density-dependent reproducers who grow and travel at a snail's pace, once populations are depleted they are very slow to return. That's a problem not just for kitchens, but for the ocean itself. As a bioengineer species that keeps seagrass beds vibrant and thriving, an ecosystem orbits around conch that spans from the tiniest algae all the way up to nurse sharks. It's crucial for carbon sequestration, and also employs thousands of fishers around the Caribbean. Different countries have approached this in a variety of ways: many have closed seasons. The Bahamas has completely closed exports, while Jamaica recently inaugurated the first conch fishery with Marine Stewardship Council (MSC) certification. Florida Fish and Wildlife researchers are experimenting with transporting immature conch further offshore, where they can bulk up the gastropod dating pool. And Florida Atlantic University's Queen Conch Lab, led by professor Megan Davis, is partnering with research institutions and fishers to protect conch for generations to come. In this episode, Gyimah-Brempong talks to Davis and her colleagues, as well as Gabriel Delgado, a researcher with Florida Fish and Wildlife, and Kristian Moree and Lachelle Russell, aquaculture technicians at Freeport mobile conch lab. She also interviews chefs who work with conch, including Martin Liz in Key West and Terry Eden Pratt in Grand Bahama. Michael Moxey, a Grand Bahama fisherman, tells of conch's accessibility and an evolving way of life. United around a love and need for these large-eyed snails, island nations are both strengthening their economies and increasing their protection from ever-stronger hurricanes. Which, with any luck, will keep conch on the sea floor – and in the stew pot – for generations to come. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “South Asian Food Makes Northwest Arkansas Taste Like Home,” Gravy producer Mackenzie Martin heads back to Northwest Arkansas (NWA), where Walmart began, to look at the retail giant's influence on the region's demographics and culinary landscape—specifically, spurring a boom of South Asian restaurants and food shops.   Walmart is seen by some as the king of genericness. Most of the products it sells don't have much of a regional or local spirit. Yet, in NWA, Walmart (along with other big employers) is making the community more diverse by bringing in people from all over the country, and the world. And as the population has diversified, so, too has the quality of food and restaurants.   Between 2011 and 2018, the Indian American population in Bentonville alone more than tripled. It would be easy to see the infrastructure or community resources lacking. Thankfully, in Bentonville, people are starting to step up to fill the gaps. Twenty years ago, you'd have to go to Tulsa, Kansas City, or Oklahoma City to find Indian food served in a restaurant, a four-to-seven-hour round trip. Now, there are a dozen local options, in addition to several Indian grocery stores.   To investigate the way recent immigration has influenced the quality of South Asian food and restaurants, Martin visits a local Indian restaurant, a festival at the area's first Hindu temple, and what is believed to be the first Pakistani restaurant in the region.   Many of the transplants here tell her that the resulting community is a uniquely welcoming one. Immigrants of all kinds participate in shared activities and culture while preserving the traditions of the countries they grew up in.   This is particularly on display at BBQ King, where Indian and Pakistani dishes share space on the menu. The blending of these two cuisines and cultures here is notable, since India and Pakistan have a complicated and tense relationship that goes back generations and includes several wars. Abdullah Asif, a student at the University of Arkansas whose family owns the restaurant, says it's not like that in the United States, though: “We're all part of the same community here.”   The Northwest Arkansas of today is a cosmopolitan region where people from all over the world make a living and find a home. They're making space for others but also working to preserve what makes them unique. And thanks to places like BBQ King, they now have one more place to gather and meet each other. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Cultivating Mexico in Northwest Arkansas,” Gravy producer Mackenzie Martin digs into the story of Yeyo's, a vibrant family-run Mexican restaurant in Northwest Arkansas.   Here, the once-rural Ozarks are now one of the fastest-growing metropolitan areas in the country. That's partly thanks to major employers like Walmart, Tyson Foods, and J.B. Hunt, but there are also many amenities the region offers, like a surplus of hiking and mountain biking trails and Crystal Bridges Art Museum. And as the population increases, so does the diversity of the region.   When the Rios family moved here from California in the early 2000s with dreams of owning land and starting a farm, it was a bit of a gamble. The family of Mexican immigrants says they were the first non-white family at the Bentonville Farmer Market around 2006.   Six years later, chef Rafael Rios opened a food truck, Yeyo's Mexican Grill, named after his dad's longtime nickname. The plan was to use produce from the farm and sell farm-to-table Mexican food. At first, he struggled—but he kept with it, and it paid off. Nearly 20 years later, the Rios family has two farms, two food trucks, a bar specializing in mezcal, and a flagship restaurant. Not to mention, Rafael Rios has been named a semifinalist by the James Beard Foundation for Best Chef: South four times.   Most importantly, though, Rios has a bigger mission than just him. He feels like diners in the U.S. aren't very knowledgeable about the complicated, and often expensive, processes required to make high-quality Mexican cuisine, such as tortillas from scratch or really good mole sauce. That's why he's trying to change his customers' perceptions of Mexican food by bringing them along with the cooking process. The restaurant kitchen is completely open, so guests see (and hear) everything happening there.   Education is a part of the job Rios willingly takes up. If a customer questions whether his tortillas are really all corn, for instance, he will literally take them back to the kitchen and show them the machine they use to shape and cut the tortillas.   He couldn't do it without his family, though. All seven Rios siblings and their parents live in Northwest Arkansas, and 18 family members are involved with the restaurant in some way, from management to farming to dishwashing. In this episode, Rios shares his family's journey to Yeyo's and Arkansas' changing food landscape. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The black-eyed pea is not your average bean. Like many staple foods of the African Diaspora, it's become a powerful symbol of food sovereignty and survival. With the migration of the black-eyed pea from West Africa during the transatlantic slave trade came a superstition about good luck. This belief combines folklore from West Africa and Western Europe in the American South. Our episode follows the journey of the black-eyed pea, time traveling through the folklore of the past and an Afrofuturist vision of what's still to come. This episode was reported and produced by Sarah Holtz. Special thanks go to: Michael Twitty Adrian Miller B. Brian Foster Ira Wallace Music by: "Neuanfang" by Kielicaster "Shangri La" by Kielicaster "Dusty" by Crowander "Clay Pawn Shop" by Blue Dot Sessions Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “What Makes Gumbo...Gumbo?” Gravy producer Katie Carter King takes us all the way to Northern California to understand what folklorist John Lauden meant when he said, “Gumbo is not a word, it's a syntax, a way of putting something together.”   Cooks and culinarians have long argued about gumbo. Is it Creole or Cajun in its roots and history? Is it a soup, a stew, or some mysterious third thing? But perhaps nothing gets Southerners more heated than conversations about how you make gumbo—from the ingredients to the recipe technique, the dish has long provoked spirited debates. But in the southeast corner of San Francisco, one man has become known as Mr. Gumbo, and he's not looking to pick a fight, but rather start a conversation.   Mr. Gumbo—also known as chef Dontaye Ball—grew up making gumbo with his grandmother. But after she passed away and he took helm of the family's gumbo tradition, Dontaye began to realize the limitations of a single pot of gumbo. The seafood-centric recipe he'd long made accidentally excluded many of his loved ones: vegans, vegetarians, folks with shellfish allergies. So, he decided to cook up something new, something a bit unorthodox. He created a gumbo bar, complete with all the delicious possibilities his friends and family could dream up, including both different soup bases and different accouterments. A recurring event sprung to life, quickly morphing from holiday party to block party to pop-up business.   Growing up, community was always at the forefront of Dontaye's mind. His grandmother centered serving the community in her cooking. Dontaye was raised in the Bayview, a sunny, geographically isolated neighborhood that has been the last corner of the city to gentrify. Once home to Maltese farmers and Chinese shrimpers, the area became home to thousands of Black workers who migrated following the eruption of World War II. A tight-knit community formed, one that took care of its own. While Dontaye had never planned on opening a full restaurant, when a space became open on a prominent corner in his own neighborhood, he saw how much possibility gumbo could offer—and knew he couldn't say no.   In this episode, Katie Carter King learns about Dontaye's path to becoming a restaurateur and community leader. Additionally, geographer and UC Santa Cruz professor Lindsey Dillon helps situate the Gumbo Social story in the larger landscape of Bayview and San Francisco's Black residents and culture. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “The Joyful Black History of the Sweet Potato,” Kayla Stewart reports for Gravy on sweet potatoes, which Southern-born Black Americans have baked, roasted, fried, distilled—and long revered. Stewart takes listeners across the United States to learn how African Americans are finding new, interesting ways to enjoy sweet potatoes. Harvey and Donna Williams own and operate Delta Dirt Distillery in Helena, Arkansas. Both grew up in Arkansas, and Harvey was raised on a farm that has been in his family for generations. His father began growing sweet potatoes to make efficient use of his small acreage, and Williams grew to love the root for its nutritional value. At a conference, he met an entrepreneur distilling sweet potatoes and decided to try it himself. In 2021, Delta Dirt Distillery was born, earning a host of beverage awards. But for the Williams family, success is about more than medals. It's about recognizing the history and pride associated with sweet potatoes–a history that's likely made the product even more compelling to Black Americans in the area.  Jeremy Peaches is an agriculture consultant who works at Lucille's 1913, a non-profit organization operated by Houston chef Chris Williams that aims to combat food insecurity in vulnerable communities. While sweet potatoes are beloved for their sweet, earthy flavor, Peaches says they were also one of the first major sources of economic opportunity for Black American farmers, in part thanks to their resilience during the annual harvest. Though sweet potatoes can be enjoyed raw, roasted, or distilled, there's nothing quite like the sweet potato pie. To understand how these pies have been comforting Southerners around the holidays for centuries, Stewart steps into the kitchen with restaurateur and cookbook author Alexander Smalls, who explains the history of sweet potato pie and why Black Americans make such a strong claim to the dish. Finally, Joye B. Moore, owner of Joyebells Desserts and Countrysides, tells of the generational traditions that make her famous sweet potato pies so exceptional. For this episode, Stewart interviews Harvey Williams, Jeremy Peaches, Alexander Smalls, and Joye B. Moore to learn how this root vegetable nourishes Black entrepreneurs, cooks, and communities—bodies and souls.   Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Eating at the End of the World,” Gravy producer Katie Jane Fernelius takes a close look at the culture of disaster prep, especially how people eat when disaster strikes. As it turns out, how people provision for disaster can differ wildly from how they actually feed themselves, and each other, once a storm blows through.   After living without power for almost two weeks following Hurricane Ida, Fernelius fell down a rabbit hole of prepper content. She discovered cartons of shelf-stable water, large cans of peaches and green beans, wide varieties of dehydrated meals, and large “apocalypse buckets” full of everything a person might need following a disaster. In short, she discovered a booming industry.   So, she was curious: Who preps? For what? And why?   In this episode, Fernelius talks to cultural anthropologist Chad Huddleston, who studies the rise of prepper culture—and consumerism—following Hurricane Katrina. He talks about how the kinds of food that preppers keep in their pantries has shifted over time, and how “prepper” foods have never been so popular and available as they are today.   Fernelius also interviews a mutual aid organizer in New Orleans named Miriam Belblidia, who contrasts the utility of “prepping” against her actual experience of living in the aftermath of a hurricane. She says that when we think of prepping, we should be far more concerned with how we prepare community resources than how we prepare individual ones.   Special thanks to Chad Huddlestone, Miriam Beblidia, and all the people who organized mutual aid in New Orleans following Hurricane Ida. Thank you to Heather Cole for her fact-checking. Thank you to Clay Jones for his sound design and mixing. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Where There's (Southern) Smoke, There's Help for Restaurant Workers,” Gravy producer Evan Stern introduces listeners to the Southern Smoke Foundation, a relief organization dedicated to providing a safety net for food and beverage workers. As the pandemic reminded us, restaurants aren't just places where people go to satisfy hunger. The best ones reflect, anchor, and at times help define the communities they serve. From diners and drive-thrus to chophouses, maintaining them is a group effort made possible by managers, line cooks, servers, and cleaning staff, whose duties are essential and frequently challenging. They also comprise one of the largest labor forces in the US. Even so, these same workers often lack health coverage, live shift to shift, and don't have the option to work remotely. In times of unforeseen hardship, they might find themselves forced to choose between paying for housing, groceries, and medical care. In the absence of governmental reform, the Southern Smoke Foundation is working to respond to and call attention to these needs. Southern Smoke helps facilitate free mental health counseling and puts immediate cash in the hands of laborers in need. In this episode, we'll learn of its history from Houston-based chef and founder Chris Shepherd, who was inspired to take action in 2015 upon learning his friend and sommelier had been diagnosed with MS. From there, we'll learn about how forces like Hurricane Harvey and the 2020 pandemic reshaped the charity's focus. Finally, Charles Parra tells how Southern Smoke stepped in when his bartending career was upended after a major accident. This episode explores why efforts to make this industry more equitable are worth pursuing. As Shepherd asks, “We are there to serve and take care of people, but who takes care of us?” Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In the episode “Catch of the Day: Why Alabama Loves Red Snapper,” Gravy producer Irina Zhorov takes listeners to the fisherman's paradise of the Gulf of Mexico, where you'll find tuna, amberjacks, mahi mahi, swordfish, and more. There's a commercial fishery worth nearly $1 billion annually and the Gulf has the highest level of spending by recreational anglers, which includes charter trips, in the whole country: more than $5 billion annually. One of the most important fish driving this plenty is red snapper.   Gulf red snapper are a bottom-dwelling fish that can live to be 50 years old. When they're older and bigger – they can weigh more than 50 pounds–they can live in the water column. But when they're smaller juveniles they prefer to hang out on reefs or other structures. They've been fished in the area since at least the 1800s. More recently, they've become an important cultural and economic staple in the Gulf, particularly around the Florida panhandle and in Alabama. Why is snapper so important for Alabamians specifically?   The Gulf floor off the coast of Alabama is flat and muddy for many miles out to sea. When anglers fished for snapper in the past, they'd have to find the rare reef or travel far into the Gulf to find the fish. In the 1950s, fishermen started dropping debris, like car hulls and military tanks, into the Gulf to build artificial reefs. In the 1980s, this practice was formalized by the state and federal governments, which established what is now the country's largest artificial reef zone. And the state did something else novel, too. In most places with artificial reef programs, the state or municipality handles the reef building and keeps reefs public. Alabama does this, too, but it also allows regular citizens to go out and drop materials for private artificial reefs. The result has been a massive build-up of reefs in the Gulf off the coast of Alabama. Snapper congregate at the reefs, so catching them is all but guaranteed. The result? A snapper fishing bonanza.    For Gravy, Zhorov tags along with a family in town for a Gulf fishing trip, led by Brian Annan, a charter boat captain who's been building reefs for decades. He says without the reefs he wouldn't have a business. Scientists like Kesley Banks, Sean Powers, and Mark Albins say the reefs are also helping snapper population numbers recover – for years the fish was considered overfished and had unsustainable stock numbers. And for tourists who come to the Gulf to fish, the artificial reefs are just sources of a good time. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Order a hot pastrami on rye at any delicatessen and you'll taste the briny terroir of the Jewish Diaspora. Pastrami is an iconic cured meat that migrated with Eastern European Jews to America and became synonymous with the deli, a beloved third place for Jewish communities across the country. In Jackson, Mississippi, that place was the Olde Tyme Deli, which Judy and Irv Feldman owned and operated from 1961 until 2000. In this episode, we'll trace the migration of pastrami to the Deep South, where Southern Jewish identity coalesced during another moment of reckoning—the civil rights movement. Sarah Holtz reported and produced this episode. Sarah is an independent audio producer who documents cultural history in New Orleans, New York, and the Bay Area. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “America's Lost Peanut and the Price of Bringing it Back,” Gravy producer Otis Gray takes listeners on a journey through the history and revival of the Carolina African Runner Peanut, an heirloom crop thought to be extinct until 2013. Today, a contingency of heirloom enthusiasts and chefs are trying to bring the historic peanut back into the spotlight through farm-to-table dining. The question is: if not everyone can sit at the table, are we doing it the right way?   In 2015, heirloom farmer and “flavor chaser” Nat Bradford was entrusted with a handful of the small, rust-colored African Runner Peanuts uncovered in a seed bank at North Carolina University—peanuts that trace their lineage back to the transatlantic slave trade. These peanuts, once a staple in Southern cuisine, were nearly lost to time, replaced by larger, more industrialized varieties like the Virginia peanut.   This Gravy episode delves into the complex history of this crop, uncovering how it was grown by enslaved Africans for sustenance, quietly thriving in clandestine gardens on plantations. Culinary historian Michael Twitty explains the peanut's deep cultural and historical ties to the African diaspora and the way it shaped Southern foodways. As the peanut reemerges, it raises important questions: Who gets to grow, cook, and profit from these heirloom crops today?   While passionate about preserving the peanut, Bradford has found that reviving heirloom ingredients in today's economy is costly. The African Runner Peanut, marketed primarily to high-end chefs, is expensive to grow and difficult to shell, limiting its accessibility. Chef Kevin Mitchell, a culinary instructor and historian, shares these concerns. While he uses heirloom crops like the African Runner Peanut to educate his students about food history, he also grapples with the reality that many of the people who helped shape this crop's history are now economically excluded from its revival.   Through conversations with experts like Twitty, Mitchell, and culinary historian Tonya Hopkins, the episode explores the extractive nature of the modern food industry and how white chefs and high-end restaurants often overshadow Black culinary history. While the African Runner Peanut's story is one of cultural and historical importance, it's also a story of economic and racial disparity. How do we grapple with the broader implications of reviving lost crops and whether our methods are truly equitable? Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Apalachicola Oysters and the Battle for a Florida Bay,” Gravy producer Betsy Wallace takes listeners to Franklin County, Florida to find out if a new tourist development could be the biggest threat to a decades-long, $30 million investment in the Apalachicola Bay Oyster Fishery Restoration. Franklin County is tucked into Florida's Forgotten Coast, a stretch of the panhandle known for white sand beaches, off-shore fishing, and the iconic Apalachicola Bay oyster. It is distinctly Old Florida; there are family-owned seafood restaurants next to mom-and-pop bait shops. You won't see a high-rise hotel until the next county over. When the black bears get hot in the sticky heat of July, they lumber across Highway 98 to swim with the jellyfish in the salty Gulf Coast water. This area is home to one of the few remaining working shorelines in North Florida. For about a hundred years, up until a devastating fishery crash in 2013, the oyster industry powered Franklin County's economy. At its peak in 2012, the industry brought in over $9 million and employed about 2,500 locals in the small Florida panhandle towns of Eastpoint, Apalachicola, Carrabelle, and Panacea. In 2013 the oyster industry crashed and took the local economy down with it. Now, more than a decade later, join Wallace as she digs into the restoration of the Apalachicola Bay oyster reefs and a newly proposed (and highly divisive) large-scale tourist resort. Will the Forgotten Coast stay forgotten long enough for the seafood industry to recover and provide stable, well-paying jobs for the next generation? Or will tourism and real estate development finally take over, as it has up and down the Florida coast? In this episode, Wallace talks to Josh Norman, who grew up in an oystering family and is a marine biologist turned VP of the locally owned Bayside Coffee; Charles Pennycutt, owner of Fisherman's Choice Bait and Tackle; Paddy's Raw Bar restaurateur Patrick Sparks; Florida State University scientist Dr. Sandra Brooke; and oyster farmer Xochitl Bevera. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

When we think of the industrialization of America and the rise of electricity, we're printed to think about people in cities and factories, where machines and assembly lines abound. We think of Charlie Chaplin tangled up in conveyor belts and cogs in the movie Modern Times. We think of electric motors, coal mining, steam engines. But electricity transformed another area almost as much as it transformed the city or the factory… and that area is the house. And because of that there's one really key demographic that's impacted by electricity perhaps more than any other: women. Electrification prompted a redefinition of house work and those who did it, according to scholar Rachele Dini. She wrote a book called “All-Electric Narratives,” which focuses on how advertising and literature represent electricity and electric appliances in the home.  Rachele says that the change in expectations for women and housework can be charted through advertisements: for instance, General Electric sponsored “Gold Medallion” campaigns in women's magazines that recognized homes with all-electric “automated” kitchens. These adverts always showed sparkling clean kitchens and promised less labor for the housewife… but, the truth is, in actuality, more women were doing more labor on average. This is because there were fewer adults in each household to share responsibilities as nuclear families became the norm: husbands were now generally expected to go to work to support the household through their wages and women were generally expected to shop, cook, clean, and manage the household. What had once been the work of multiple adults, perhaps including extended family members or hired cooks or maids, now, in most middle- and working-class nuclear families, became the job of one woman: the so-called housewife. In fact, a whole new discipline emerged during the period of industrialization: Home Economics. You're probably most familiar with it as a middle school elective class where you learn how to care for an egg as a practice in parenting. But in the twentieth century, home economics was a serious science.  “No one really appreciates what a degree in home economics is, until you look at a college notebook,” says Hal Wallace. They did “laboratory experiments on how foods for example, caramelize, when they're heated, or how the proteins might rearrange in an egg as it's been heated…. There is a lot of science involved, real science involved with this.” At that time, home economists were concerned not just with how to teach others to cook, clean, and care for a household, but also with how to teach them to be smart consumers of new electric technologies, like electric stoves, toasters, and coffee-makers.  The U.S. government hired home economists to promote the formation of rural electrification when they kicked off the “Rural Electric Circus.” They toured shows in rural communities across the South and Midwest where they taught audiences how to skillfully place lightbulbs, or launder shirts in a new dryer, or cook scrambled eggs on an electric stove. The shows were both educational and promotional: teaching new technologies and encouraging these residents to form electrical cooperatives to access them.  Katie Jane Fernelius reported and produced this episode. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Bala's Bistro: Where Mali Meets Memphis,” Gravy producers Marie Cascione and Joshua Carlucci profile Malian chefs, cousins, and business partners Bala Tounkara and Mady Magassa. Their story takes us from West Africa to the casinos of Tunica, Mississippi, and finally to South Memphis, where their restaurant, Bala's Bistro, has become an emblem of success and belonging for African immigrants in the South.   Today, 21% of Black Americans are either immigrants themselves or children of immigrants. The vast majority of Black immigrants in America live in the South, and Tennessee is one of the fastest growing states for this community.   Bala and Mady both immigrated to Memphis by way of New York City in the early 2000s. Looking for some semblance of community, they landed in Whitehaven, a Black neighborhood that, at the time, had only a small enclave of West Africans. They started cooking in restaurants with no initial plans beyond making money to make ends meet. Over the years spent around fire and knives, Bala and Mady decided to dive into a business venture of their own: making food from home, as they saw it. They opened Bala's Bistro in 2019 to answer the question: Where's all the African food in Memphis?   Though Bala and Mady are from Mali, they make and serve food from all over West Africa. Fufu, egusi, maafe, and saka saga—just to name a few—all make star-studded appearances in the glass display case from which Bala's customers can pick and choose to make their plates. The case looks like a buffet for a reason: Bala and Mady want you to ask about the food.   Bala used to be self-conscious of what he ate back home, but today he embraces it and encourages others to give it a shot. When Memphians wonder about some of the soupy, bubbling concoctions, he explains and gives them samples. He's big on education; he wants curious eaters to satisfy their wonder, but even more, he wants Memphis to know that the soul food they know and love, and the rich and spicy cuisine of West Africa, were cut from the same cloth.   In this episode, Cascione and Carlucci talk to Bala Tounkara and Mady Magassa all about their journey to Memphis and the story of their restaurants. Gravy listeners will also hear from guests, some who come to Bala's for a taste of something new and leave with a sense of community. Having just opened a second restaurant—Mande Dibi—Bala and Mady double down on the idea they hatched long ago. The pair place their bets on African food finding a widely-adored home, just as they did, in Memphis. At the same time, their restaurants have become a place of refuge and community for all who come to eat at their table, whether from Memphis, Mali, or all that in between. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Minnie Bell's Feeds the Fillmore's Soul,” Gravy producer Sarah Jessee takes listeners to the spring 2024 opening of Minnie Bell's Soul Movement in San Francisco's Fillmore District, where chef Fernay McPherson—and her food—have come home.   McPherson's family came to the Fillmore from Texas in the 1960s, as part of the Second Great Migration that brought African Americans from the South to cities across the U.S. When those families migrated, their recipes did, too.   McPherson learned to cook from her great aunt and grandmother Minnie and Lillie Bell, the restaurant's namesakes. In 2011, she joined La Cocina, a culinary incubator for women who want to open their own restaurants. Since then, fans of McPherson's signature rosemary fried chicken and macaroni and cheese have followed her from her first food truck in 2013, to her pop-up in an East Bay food court, and now, to her new brick-and-mortar restaurant in the neighborhood she's always called home.   Between 1935 and 1945, the Black population in San Francisco grew by 600%. The growth continued until urban renewal brought it to a halt, just as McPherson's family was settling into the area. Beginning in the 1960s, the San Francisco Planning and Housing Association bulldozed entire sections of the Fillmore, taking parts of the neighborhood's vibrant, close-knit community along with it.   In this episode, Jessee speaks to McPherson all about her culinary journey, family history, and how she learned to cook in a way that honors her roots. She also interviews Fernay's father, Darnay McPherson, who tells how the Fillmore has changed over time, and how its Black culture has been erased. We also hear how friends and fans are welcoming her back home. With Minnie Bell's return to the neighborhood, McPherson wants to see—finally—a long-promised renaissance in the Fillmore. And it's already in motion: as of July 2024, Minnie Bell's was added to the San Francisco Chronicle's “Best of SF” list. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Reel It In: Building Local Markets for Fresh Fish" Gravy producer Irina Zhorov looks for fresh fish in shops along the Gulf of Mexico, where it should be plentiful but can be surprisingly difficult to find. Between 80 to 90% of seafood in the U.S. is imported, despite the country's generous coasts and well-managed fisheries. Even in seaside communities where the promise of a fresh catch draws tourists to eat out, many restaurants serve thawed imports.  In Fairhope, Alabama, Fairhope Fish House wanted something different. Owners Dustin Bedgood and Jake Pose go out for short fishing trips—usually just 24 hours—and fish primarily using rod and reel. They're only open when they have a fresh catch to sell, and they let people know about their hours through an email listserv. They handle the fish with care, practicing ikejime, a Japanese method of instantly killing and draining blood from the animal. That extends the shelf life of the fish and gives it a cleaner taste.  Despite their various measures to deliver a fresher, more sustainable, and tastier product to customers, the flesh is nothing without the story they tell about it.  In addition to Fairhope Fish House, Zhorov talks to Chef David Ramey, of Red or White in Fairhope, about why he pays a premium for the House's fish and why his customers appreciate it. Journalist Paul Greenberg explains that eating from one's local waters used to be the norm, but now requires focused effort and knowledge. Local fish is not as available in stores and it can be difficult to figure out where seafood is coming from in the globalized market. Local Catch Network founder Joshua Stoll and researcher Sahir Advani provide context about other shops that are choosing to focus on local markets. Some 12% of fishers market directly to consumers in one way or another—more than producers in agriculture—and it's a model they say creates sustainable, community-focused economies. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

If you know and love the Vidalia onion—an onion sweet enough, its fans say, to eat like an apple—you likely also know it as a product of Georgia, as proudly claimed as the peach. But the story of the Vidalia's popularity is far more complex than just one of a local onion made good. In this episode of Gravy: an onion's success story, born of clever marketing, government wrangling, technological innovation and global trade. This episode was co-produced by Tyler Pratt. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

If you're looking for a taste of something new (and Southern) in your podcast playlist, then you should really check out Sea Change, produced by our friends over at WWNO New Orleans Public Radio and distributed by PRX. Nominated for “Best Green” Podcast at the 2024 iHeart Podcast Awards, Sea Change brings you stories that illuminate, inspire, and sometimes enrage, but above all, remind us why we must work together to solve the issues facing our warming world… and across our region. We are thrilled to share a special episode of Sea Change that explores how the Vietnamese community is reimagining their relationship with water as Louisiana's coastline changes. In this episode, hosts Carlyle Calhoun and Halle Parker explore nước, the Vietnamese word for water and homeland, and how nước is linked to the homeland. Traveling to a shrimp dock, a tropical garden, and a neighborhood surrounded by canals, they examine one central question: What does it mean to live with water in a place where everything about water is changing? We think you're going to really like this episode, so make sure to follow Sea Change on your favorite podcast app.   Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Flambéed! The Art & Theater of Banana's Foster” Gravy producer Eve Troeh takes listeners to Brennan's, the iconic restaurant in New Orleans' French Quarter, where skilled servers pull off one sensational culinary feat, table after table and day after day—Bananas Foster, flambéed tableside. Brennan's opened its doors more than seventy years ago, and its early years coincided with a hot trend in fine dining at the time: tableside dishes. Many know this practice, when a server wheels over a small cart to your table and makes a dish right in front of you. One of the iconic recipes in this pantheon of the tableside tradition is Bananas Foster, a rum-laden flambéed dessert that was invented at Brennan's in 1951. Today, the dish appears on menus worldwide, and Brennan's serves the original day and night, dazzling diners with a fiery display. The ritual of tableside dining, once a hallmark of fine establishments, finds its roots in European opulence, where elaborate presentations conveyed status and sophistication. While the tradition waned in the 1960s and 70s, Brennan's steadfastly preserves it, offering not only Bananas Foster but a repertoire of tableside classics, each dish a testament to culinary craftsmanship. So what is it like to produce this “show” of Bananas Foster, day in and day out? For the staff at Brennan's, mastering the art of tableside service is a rite of passage. It takes a special kind of server to pull it off, as well as intensive training, special equipment, and a careful attention to safety as the dessert's rum and liqueur sauce is lit. For Gravy, Troeh visits the Big Easy to speak with Christian Pendleton, general manager at Brennan's, and Chalaine Celestain, a Brennan's captain (or leading server) for whom tableside preparations are one part of a complex repertoire. From controlling the flames to engaging guests in the experience, she embodies the spirit of hospitality that defines Brennan's. Maureen Costura, professor of liberal arts and food studies at the Culinary Institute of America, offers historical context. Despite the occasional mishap, the allure of tableside dining endures, offering patrons a glimpse into a bygone era of elegance and charm. For Christian and his team, it's not just about serving a meal; it's about creating memories and fostering connections with each guest. In an ever-changing culinary landscape, Brennan's remains a bastion of tradition, where the art of tableside dining continues to captivate and delight. As long as there are flames to ignite and stories to tell, Bananas Foster will remain a cherished tradition, ensuring that the legacy of Brennan's lives on for generations to come. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In 2017, San Antonio, Texas, was officially designated a UNESCO Creative City of Gastronomy. One of only two American cities to receive this distinction, its culinary history spans centuries. It claims a dining scene flush with James Beard nominated chefs, old-world German delicatessens, and farm-to-table restaurants that source game and beef from area ranches. Yet, for most, San Antonio is inextricably bound with the flavors of Texas-Mexican cooking. Few establishments can boast the fame and staying power of Mi Tierra. Founded over 80 years ago, it's regularly listed in guidebooks and welcomes over 1 million patrons annually. For locals, it's long provided an intersection for celebration and politics and a spiritual mooring for its surrounding neighborhood, Market Square. In this episode, “How Mi Tierra Shaped Modern San Antonio,” join Gravy producer Evan Stern on a visit to this famed institution. Sit down to breakfast with San Antonio native and esteemed culinary historian Dr. Ellen Riojas Clark. Born in 1941, the same year Mi Tierra was founded, Clark believes the restaurant's food and design physically represent the Mexican-American experience in San Antonio. A conversation with Christine Ortega, VP of the Texas Indigenous Food Project, will touch on some of those aspects. Her heritage in Central Texas spans generations, and she explains how Market Square's famed Chili Queens helped popularize Texas-Mexican cooking. She also describes the transitions the neighborhood has experienced over its roughly 125 years of existence. As Mi Tierra has remained a constant on Market Square, third-generation owner Pete Cortez provides a personal account of the restaurant's history. He shares how his grandfather, an immigrant from Guadalajara, grew Mi Tierra from a three-table café into a storied institution. He also advocated for the Market's redevelopment when it and his business were threatened with demolition. Mi Tierra not only reflects the culture of the community it serves but also shapes and maintains that culture. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Ed Mitchell's name has come to be synonymous with Eastern North Carolina wood-smoked whole-hog barbecue. From Wilson, North Carolina, he grew up smoking hogs and has tried to continue that tradition, using old techniques and traditionally farm-raised pigs.  But almost since the start, Ed Mitchell's barbeque journey has not been a straight line—business relationships, racism, and smoke have all shaped his rollercoaster ride. Reporter Wilson Sayre is our guide in looking at those twists and turns. We thank Danyell Irby for editing, Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Wherefore art thou, ROMEO? At Jack's!" Gravy producer Irina Zhorov takes listeners to a busy fast food restaurant in Jasper, Alabama, to sit at a round table with a group of friends who meet there daily. The group, who call themselves ROMEO—Retired Old Men Eating Out—are a fixture at this restaurant. Over coffee and biscuits they share stories, reminisce, discuss the day's news and, when it's necessary, offer up prayers for each other. They gather to fellowship, to joke, to relieve loneliness. Other groups like them meet at similar locations around the county. Fast food restaurants have long been demonized for both the lack of nutrition in the food they tend to serve, as well as their potential to replace locally owned community spots. But at this Jack's, the ROMEOs have adapted the place to their needs, transforming a corporate space into a community one, where they are able to socialize on their own terms, bring in their own food, and build relationships with the staff. More than a third of older Americans are socially isolated, which leads to poor health outcomes, including increased risk of dementia, depression, and heart disease. In many places, particularly rural areas, so-called "third spaces," where people can meet outside of the home or work with friends and strangers alike, can be hard to find. Some researchers see fast food restaurants—with their affordable meals, accessible seating and restrooms, and ubiquity—as one potential outlet for older adults to meet their social needs.   In this episode, Zhorov talks to the ROMEOs, including John Miller, a retired health inspector, and Dorman Grace, a farmer. Jessica Finlay, assistant professor at the University of Colorado Boulder, in the Department of Geography and the Institute of Behavioral Science, researches how older adults use fast food restaurants and talks about why they're appealing as meeting spaces. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “How Pineywoods Cattle Bucks Big Beef,” Gravy producer Stephanie Burt takes listeners out to the rolling pastures of the South to meet Pineywoods cattle, a breed that's been grazing in the Southern region of the United States since the 1500s. The cow that some see as old fashioned is being considered in new ways when it comes to farming in the twenty-first century. Beef is big business in the U.S. In 2022, the country's beef consumption was the highest it's been since 2010, and the industry prizes big cows for efficient processing and big bottom lines. And this is despite the rise in what overall is termed “plant-based meat alternatives,” a response to the argument that raising cattle the way most American ranchers do, with mass production methods that don't take into account the health of the land, is a contributor to climate change. But not all cows are built the same, and one rare breed is gaining attention for its adaptability to the Southern environment. Pineywoods is well suited to the growing use of regenerative farming methods that are aiming to address beef-raising climate questions. It can positively impact a farm's ecosystem instead of harming it. Plus, it has an ability to withstand hot summers. And it tastes delicious.  In this episode, Burt talks to D. Phillip Sponenberg, professor of Pathology and Genetics in the Virginia-Maryland College of Veterinary Medicine at Virginia Tech, to find out what makes Pineywoods perfectly suited to the American South. She also introduces listeners to three cattle ranchers experienced with the breed: Cristiaan Steenkamp of BDA Farms in Uniontown, Alabama; Will Harris of White Oak Pastures in Bluffton, Georgia; and Mike Hansen of Ozark Akerz, a small farm in Coleridge, North Carolina. Together, they explain how Pineywoods contributes to the larger ecosystem of the South and how industry norms present barriers to its growth. Finally, chef Scott Peacock of Marion, Alabama, describes the distinctive flavor of Pineywoods beef on the plate. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Unshelled: George Washington Carver's Real Legacy," producers Ishan Thakore and Katie Jane Fernelius explore a lesser-known aspect of Dr. George Washington Carver's legacy: his role as a conservationist and a practitioner of sustainable agriculture. Carver's life defies easy explanation. He was born enslaved and rose to the heights of American academia. Long a painter before he became a botanist, Carver's art was even accepted into the 1893 World's Fair in Chicago. After his death, evangelicals, the LGBTQ community, and the NAACP all heralded him as a pioneer. The military even named a ship after him during World War II. But today, most listeners might only vaguely recall him as “the peanut guy,” who makes a recurring, albeit one-dimensional appearance during Black History Month. Mark Hersey, an environmental historian and author of My Work is that of Conservation: An Environmental Biography of George Washington Carver, argues that most people have considered Carver in the wrong light for years. Carver advocated for seeing connections between animals and the land, and articulated tenets of organic and sustainable agriculture well before they entered the mainstream. Carver's deep Christian convictions informed his conservationist thinking. He saw the world as something to be revered, studied, and protected from degradation. And ultimately, he thought his life's work was to uplift the lot of Black farmers in the South. But, it was his peanut work which ultimately catapulted him to fame. For years, Carver worked at Tuskegee Institute (now University), under the direction of Booker T. Washington. At Tuskegee, Carver headed up an experimental agriculture station, where he wrote research bulletins and brought demonstrations to the countryside to help impoverished Black sharecroppers and tenant farmers in Macon County, Alabama. In an effort to find a low-cost, high-calorie plant which could be grown for food by sharecroppers, Carver began to promote peanuts. He collated recipes and uses, and enthusiastically espoused the hardy legume. And in Carver, the peanut lobby found a perfect spokesperson to testify in front of the House Ways and Means Committee in 1921, to push for a protective tariff. Carver's role as an expert witness brought fame and stardom, but distorted his impact for generations. Hersey argues that Carver's other work, as a conservationist, should be at the forefront of his legacy. In examining Carver's legacy today in practice, farmers like Nick Speed are reacquainting people with Carver's relationship with the land. Speed runs the nonprofit Ujima and its related entity, the George Washington Carver Farms in St. Louis, Missouri. GWC Farms aims to honor Carver's legacy as a farmer who thought holistically about the land he tended. In understanding Carver as a pioneering Black conservationist, listeners might finally be able to move beyond Carver and the peanut. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In "Yock Is for Lovers: Chinese Soul Food in Tidewater Virginia," Gravy producer Nicole Hutcheson delves into the history of Yock-a-Mein, tracing its origins to the Tidewater region of Virginia and delving into its significant role in shaping the distinctive culinary tradition known as Chinese soul food. Originally created by a novice noodle maker and budding entrepreneur, Yock-a-Mein has evolved into an unofficial regional delicacy, gracing the tables of baby showers, rent parties, office potlucks, and funeral repasses. Rooted in humble ingredients born of necessity, it carries a legacy of resilience often overlooked in the world of gastronomy. Yock has not only sustained communities for generations, but also served as a unifying force among them. While the narrative of Southern cuisine commonly reflects on the nation's colonial past and the fusion of enslaved Africans, Native Americans, and Europeans, there exists another narrative—the convergence of urban and immigrant communities in the early 20th century, forging new culinary traditions in the South.  Today, with many original establishments serving Yock and other Chinese soul food specialties now facing closure, the rich history of these dishes is in question.  In this episode of Gravy, Hutcheson speaks with Frank Duenas, owner of Mama Chan's Chinese Takeout in Portsmouth, Virginia, now in its third decade of business. She meets Jenny Wong, whose father Park F. Wong once owned the Norfolk Noodle Factory in Norfolk and created Yock-a-Mein noodles, as well as Greg Shia, who purchased the factory in 2003 and operates it today. Finally, Andreka Gibson—known locally as the “Yock Queen”—describes her journey from Yock pop-up to flourishing, Instagram-worthy business, charting the future of this regional tradition. For Hutcheson and her audience, recognizing the history and origins of this dish stands as a testament to its enduring presence. By spotlighting those who continue the tradition, the hope is to preserve its legacy for generations to come. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Have you ever been to a wedding and wondered how hundreds of plates of food arrive at the right destinations at the right time? Often without an on-site kitchen. This is high-concept cooking, done without a net. Cookbook authors Matt Lee and Ted Lee spent four years immersed in the catering industry and wrote a book about their experiences and revelations called Hotbox. In this episode, we step behind the scenes with the Lee Brothers as our guides. Sara Brooke Curtis is an award-winning radio producer. Her work has aired on The Splendid Table, KCRW's UnFictional, KCRW's Good Food, CBC's Love Me, and BBC's Short Cuts, among others. She lives in western Massachusetts and loves recording sounds of everyday life and producing sonic worlds for listeners to surrender to and delight in. Special thanks to Steven Satterfield, Virginia Willis, Matt Bolus, Shuai and Corey Wang, Cheetie Kumar, Vishwesh Bhatt, and Eddie Hernandez for their delicious food and interviews. Hotbox: Inside Catering, the Food World's Riskiest Business, published by MacMillan, may be purchased from your favorite local bookstore. Gravy is proud to be a part of the APT Podcast Studios. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “California Dreams and Flossie's Mississippi Tamales,” journalist and Gravy producer Eve Troeh joins businesswoman Sandra Miller Foster to tell the story of the restaurant Flossie's, and the mother-daughter dream that fueled it. This story grew from a simple question: “Does anyone serve Mississippi-style hot tamales in Los Angeles?” The answer was clear, but complicated. There was just one documented place that sold the specialty, and it brought Troeh to Foster.  The narrative of Sandra, her mother Flossie Miller, and their celebrated Southern cooking spans from a Cleveland, Mississippi fine dining restaurant in the 1950s to an empty strip mall storefront in 1980s Los Angeles. Flossie's grew famous for beloved “meat and three” plate lunches and dinners at its southern California location—with, yes, the simmered and spicy hot tamales on offer as well. They struggled to get their business off the ground, closing their first place after just three years. But eventually they built a celebrated restaurant that lasted decades, and defined success on their terms.  Owning a restaurant, for so many people, is more than just a business venture. It represents pride, the joy of service, and the ability to work for yourself. Restaurants are more likely to be owned by women or people of color than other businesses. And nearly half of restaurant businesses are owned by women.  For this episode, Troeh interviews Sandra Foster and her best friend of forty-plus years, Susan Anderson, to learn how hard work and self-reliance made a Southern soul food institution thrive in Los Angeles. The story of Flossie's twenty-plus years in business is one of family triumphs and losses, critical acclaim that led to lines of customers out the door, and many more twists and turns. It prompts bigger questions of who gets opportunities in the restaurant business, what it takes to make it as an independent owner, and what success really means at the end of the day. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

If you're looking for a show that is a source for news, information, and perspectives from across North Carolina and the South, then you should really check out Due South from our public radio friends at WUNC—North Carolina Public Radio. Due South is a place to make sense of what's happening in our community. The show takes deep dives into the news—while also providing a break from the news cycle with conversations on topics ranging from food and music to arts and culture. Gravy is excited to share a special episode of Due South with you today. Join co-host Leoneda Inge as she takes a close look at the distinct flavors Black women in North Carolina are bringing to the beer and spirits industries, as well as the challenges they face breaking into the white and male-dominated market. She speaks with several women in the state of North Carolina who are changing the face of the local alcohol industry. Due South is the perfect companion podcast to Gravy, especially if you're looking for another narrative Southern podcast that tells stories that go beyond the headlines. Make sure to follow Due South on your favorite podcast app. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Order a catfish po-boy or a few pounds of crawfish in Acadiana any Friday between Mardi Gras and Easter, and you may be surprised to learn that your delight is another person's sacrifice. The Catholic tradition of abstaining from meat during Fridays in Lent is alive and well in Southwest Louisiana, a region where more than a third identify as Catholic. Thanks to the long list of Catholic churches and restaurants that roll out an array of delectable seafood options on Lenten Fridays, it's not much of a burden. St. Francis of Assisi in Breaux Bridge and the Knights of Columbus Council at St. Pius X in Lafayette both have long-standing Lenten fish fry traditions that bring together their communities and welcome anyone hungry for fried catfish, regardless of religion. Olde Tyme Grocery in Lafayette sells close to 2,300 seafood po-boys during the 40-day period. Religious abstinence never tasted so good.    The episode was reported and produced by Sarah Holtz. Sarah is an independent radio producer and documentary artist based in New Orleans.   Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Few companies have inspired more fanatical devotion among Texans than the convenience chain Buc-ee's. Described by the New York Times as both a “Disneyland of roadside capitalism,” and the “through line of America's second most sprawling state,” its iconic, buck-toothed beaver mascot has been spotted not just on billboards, but on wedding cakes and tattooed arms of its most loyal customers. Founded as a small-town gas station, today it boasts 47 locations across the South known for massive floor spaces brimming with souvenirs, fudge, BBQ stations, cases of jerky, and walls of branded snacks like “beaver nuggets.”  Yet unlike other treasured Lone Star enterprises like Whataburger, Blue Bell, or the grocery chain H-E-B, Buc-ee's ascendance has been a fast, recent phenomenon. They are also far from the first convenience chain to endear themselves to travelers through reliably clean restrooms, kitschy gifts and road food. In fact, one could argue they stand on the shoulders of the Georgia-born Stuckey's, whose nutty treats sparked a mid-century rest stop empire.  Today, both brands find themselves at a crossroads. Buc-ee's is rapidly expanding, while following years of corporate mismanagement and decline, Stuckey's is rebuilding itself one pecan log roll at a time.  In this episode we'll ride shotgun with Gravy producer Evan Stern as he explores how food has shaped these companies' brand identities, how they're grappling with change, and what their stories reveal about the past, present,t and future of snacking on the American road. Along the way, we'll step inside a Buc-ee's that sprawls over 65,000 square feet, get to know some devoted customers and hear from journalist Eric Benson, who argues this chain has come to symbolize 21st century Texas. We'll also meet Stephanie Stuckey who, following a career in politics and environmental law, now serves as the chair of Stuckey's. She shares her grandfather's journey from pecan broker to gas station magnate, how she envisions Stuckey's evolving, and why the road trip remains ingrained in the company's DNA. The resulting piece is a profile of two brands who have shaped and continue to make American highways a “corridor of consumption.” Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In addition to her work as an international recording artist and civil rights activist, the Queen of Gospel entered the restaurant business in the late 1960s with Mahalia Jackson's Glori-fried Chicken. The fast food chain was more than a brand extension for the star; it was the first African American-owned franchise in the South. Producer Betsy Shepherd explores how Mahalia used the gospel bird to push for economic empowerment in the black community.  Betsy Shepherd produced this episode for Gravy. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In the episode “It's Hip to Be a Cube: Maggie Bouillon Unwrapped,” Gravy producers Katie Jane Fernelius and Ishan Thakore take a deeper look at a humble but ubiquitous pantry staple—the bouillon cube. As many home cooks know, these dehydrated cubes of salty, umami flavor dissolve in water to create a makeshift broth. But the result is much more than soup. For immigrants to the American South, for example, bouillon cubes carry powerful sentiments of nostalgia and home. Approximately 120 million Maggi bouillon cubes are sold each day. It's a testament to the reach and ubiquity of the Nestle brand, arguably the most notable brand of bouillon cubes—just as many people call a tissue a Kleenex, so do many people call bouillon cubes Maggi. In fact, if you were to go to an international supermarket, you'd find dozens and dozens of varieties of Maggi. Some would be sold in packages labeled in Arabic, others in French or English… each with its own flavor profile specific to regional cuisines: Djon Djon. Golden Beef. Poulet. Tomato. Ginger and Garlic. Naija Pot. Maggi's diversity of flavor profiles speak to just how readily the little cube has been adopted into so many kitchens around the world. And it's not uncommon for cooks to say it's the secret ingredient to their favorite local dish.  So, how did Maggi manage to become both a global juggernaut and hometown hero? In this episode, Fernelius and Thakore trace Maggi's path from Swiss laboratories in the late nineteenth century, to Cubism, to postcolonial countries across the Global South, to a beloved Nigerian restaurant just outside of Atlanta, Georgia. They speak to Toyin Adesayo, chef and owner of Toyin Takeout in Marietta, Georgia; Nadia Berenstein, an award-winning food writer and scholar of flavor; and Nigerian chef, writer, and activist Tunde Wey. Through these conversations, they learn why the little bouillon cube has become so special to so many. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

If you appreciate Gravy, you'll likely enjoy Southern Songs and Stories. The episode we're sharing with you today features Jake Xerxes Fussell, a musician whose music is well-known in Oxford, Mississippi, the town the Southern Foodways Alliance calls home. From Southern Songs and Stories: In this series, we often spend time with artists and styles of music that are not celebrated in the mainstream, and our guest here is no exception. With a focus on music that is from artists living in the South and on music that has roots in the region, we are constantly talking with bluegrass, blues, country, rock, and Americana artists. These forms of music are immensely important to the history and legacy of original music in this country, but they seldom are associated with today's biggest stars. One reason why we love those genres is simply because they became so popular, fueling one of America's greatest exports to the world. But it is easy to get wrapped up in that history and culture and lose sight of other traditions that are not celebrated in the mainstream, nor are they a part of the narrative where roots music born in the South becomes foundational to a preponderance of popular music in the twentieth century. In this conversation with Jake Xerxes Fussell, I was reminded of that. That episode is just one part of our conversation that took place in mid-May 2023 at the Albino Skunk Music Festival in Greer, SC. Jake played a solo set on guitar, and afterward we spoke about his deep roots in folklore, his fourth album Good and Green Again, being a DJ on WHUP in Hillsborough, NC, and more. This episode also features excerpts of music from his live set. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Christmas is the time of year when many people line up at the Post Office to ship gifts to far-flung loved ones across the country, maybe even the world. In the Philippines, this practice is not just customary, but a state policy called the Balikbayan Program. Balikbayan, which is the Tagalog word for “homecoming,” was first coined by President Ferdinand Marcos in 1973 when he launched a series of policies to encourage the large number of overseas Filipino workers to return home for Christmas in the Catholic country. He hoped they would spend their hard-earned foreign currencies in their home country, helping to bolster the Filipino economy. But, if they were not able to make it home, then he encouraged them to send tax-free “balikbayan boxes” in their place.  Balikbayan boxes are typically 3-foot-by-3-foot-by-3-foot boxes stuffed full of canned goods, candy bars, packaged cookies, toothpastes, deodorants, sweatshirts, shoes, and many other items.  Today, approximately half-a-million balikbayan boxes are shipped to the Philippines each month by Filipinos working overseas––and this number only increases further around Christmastime. Whole industries exist around the logistics of shipping balikbayan boxes: for example, in Houston, where 2.5 million Filipino immigrants live, companies like Forex Texas have been operating since the mid-1990s to safely ship balikbayan boxes to the Philippines. (These box companies are not uncommon in various Filipino enclaves across America.)  Balikbayan boxes are not just impressive economic operation, they also are a certified cultural practice and pop culture meme. Filipino comedian Mikey Bustos sang about balikbayan boxes in a video parodying Miley Cyrus' “Wrecking Ball”: “I got my balikbayan box, I waited for it for 2 months. I bet it's full of awesome stuff. Some Colgate and new briefs, imported corn beef, I got my balikbayan box, so full of imported products, I know I will feel so sosyal parang foreigner lang, thanks to my Mommy. I'll have Nikes on my feet!” In this episode of Gravy, producer Katie Jane Fernelius examines the histories underlying the balikbayan box. She speaks with Royal Sumikat, a Filipino artist in Houston, who designed a whole exhibit based on the box. Royal draws upon her experience as a child in the Philippines receiving these boxes from her dad and reflects upon the economic and political realities that forced her dad to work overseas. Jade Alburo, a librarian at UCLA who focuses on the study of Southeast Asia and the Pacific Islands. discusses the impact of American colonialism in the Philippines and how it inspired what items are most coveted for balikbayan boxes. Gravy also explores how to frame the importance of balikbayan boxes to Filipino families living across borders. SFA is proud to be a part of APT Podcast Studios. We thank the following individuals for help with this episode: Royal Sumikat Jade Albur Christy Panis Poisot Featured music in this episode includes: Talang Patnubay (Silen), Christmas in the Philippines, Bayanihan Philippine Dance Company - Smithsonian Folkways Ang Pasko Ay Sumapit, Christmas in the Philippines, Bayanihan Philippine Dance Company - Smithsonian Folkways "Calisson," by Blue Dot Studios "We Collect Shiny Things," by Blue Dot Studios "Waltz and Fury," by Blue Dot Studios The image is from Royal Sumikat's exhibit in Houston, Texas.   Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In "What's Next for the Women of Mama Dip's Kitchen?" Gravy producer Leoneda Inge takes listeners to Mama Dip's Kitchen, known for its chicken and dumplings and scrumptious homemade desserts. The restaurant has fed tourists, celebrities, and steady customers for nearly fifty years in Chapel Hill, North Carolina—so the community was shocked when the Council family voted earlier this year to sell the restaurant and the land around it.  Mildred “Mama Dip” Council was a celebrated entrepreneur. When she died in 2018, the restaurant continued, welcoming patrons at its longtime spot on Rosemary Street. Now, the Council family has a big decision to make. They have to figure out a way to continue growing the business and preserve Mama Dip's legacy.  Mama Dip is a brand. She is a household name around town. She was not a popular alumna of The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill or a star athlete—though this African American woman stood tall at 6'2”. But many students, staff, and residents have eaten her country cooking or tried to perfect a dish from one of her cookbooks.  Mama Dip had eight children, and several of them were cross-trained to operate every facet of the business. Her youngest child, Spring Council, is north of sixty-five years old, retirement age for many folks. The asking price for Mama Dip's Kitchen—the building, not the brand—is $3.6 million. Early conversations included talk of building a more fast-casual restaurant, with a smaller staff, specializing in the restaurant's top sellers, like the chicken and dumplings. While the future of Mama Dip's Kitchen is still up in the air, the family legacy lives on. Granddaughter Tonya Council recently opened her own cookie shop in Chapel Hill. Granddaughter Erika Council in Atlanta owns Bomb Biscuit Company. And daughter Annette Council continues to sell her Sweet Neecy cake mixes. For this episode, Inge talks to Spring Council and Erika Council, as well as some of Mama Dip's loyal followers, to explore the legacy and future of this iconic Chapel Hill institution. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Tasting the South in the San Fernando Valley,” producer Rebecca Katz tells the story of how three black women created a soul food institution in one of the whitest parts of the San Fernando Valley that still thrives today. During the Second Great Migration in the 1940s, large numbers of Black Americans traveled west to Los Angeles, California. The Black population in Los Angeles increased nearly twelvefold from 1940 to 1970.  In this episode, we learn about the racial history of the San Fernando Valley specifically a suburb just north of the city of Los Angeles. While Los Angeles as a city was diversifying after the second great migration, certain parts of the Valley remained largely white due to its iron-clad race restrictions—some of the harshest in the nation. In the episode, we hone in on one small town at the Western tip of the valley called Chatsworth, which was 98% white in the 1980s.  Three Black women, Clara Huling, Roda Hadi, and Willie Stanford, were each already working in the restaurant industry in the Valley in the 1980s, not far from Chatsworth. They each had different ties to the South and they all missed Southern cooking and classic soul food. One night, they decided to open a restaurant—bringing classic soul food to the largely white valley. And they did just that. They came together and opened a tiny soul food spot in the unlikeliest of all places—Chatsworth.  Nearly 40 years after that grand opening, Clara's granddaughter, Jessica Huling, still owns and operates the restaurant, which has been deemed some of the best soul food in Los Angeles by many reputable food outlets.  In this episode, we hear from Jessica about how the restaurant thrived in such a white area through the years. We explore how the restaurant has overcome the odds, evolved its customer base, and greatly influenced the Black community in the Valley today. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

At this point, most of us know the Thanksgiving story about the Pilgrims and the Indians happily indulging in a joint feast is a vast oversimplification of what actually happened. But how many of us still have an idea of Native people that's stuck in the past? "People didn't believe that I was Native because I was from North Carolina," Lumbee Indian Malinda Maynor Lowery says. "The only thing they learned about Indians in school, maybe, was that we were removed from the Southeast." In this first episode of Gravy, first shared almost 10 years ago today, meet a tribe of Indians who are very much still in the Southeast—and whose food reflects a distinct hybrid of Southern and Native history. The Lumbee's story is one that spans centuries, and includes new windows into periods you may think you know—like the Jim Crow era. Plus something you'll be eager to eat: the collard sandwich. If you want more after that, check out these oral histories of the Lumbee community, done by the SFA's Sara Wood. You might also want to read Malinda Maynor Lowery's book "Lumbee Indians in the Jim Crow South." And, if you're dying to make your own collard sandwich, you can find a recipe for that and much more in Gloria Barton Gates' "The Scuffletown Cookbook." Tina Antolini, Gravy's first producer, reported and produced this episode. Tina has worked in public radio for nearly 20 years. She was a senior producer for NPR's State of the Reunion, for which she won a Peabody and a national Edward R Murrow Award for her work.   Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Winter mornings are serene in the cypress groves of the Mississippi Delta. There's the glide of the canoe, and the gentle ripple of camouflage waders disappearing into waist-deep water. What finally breaks the pre-dawn quiet is the fire of a shotgun, and the splash of a Labrador Retriever. And then, there's the laughter of a group of women. That's the sound of Swamp Witches. The Swamp Witches have been duck hunting together for nearly 20 years. Men are often surprised to stumble upon a half-dozen women—not in the company of fathers or husbands or brothers—out hunting. In this episode of Gravy, reporter-producer Dana Bialek goes hunting with the Swamp Witches and explores the rise in women hunters, how hunter recruitment is connected to the conservation of waterfowl habitat, and what it means to celebrate hunted game around the table. Dana Bialek is a radio producer based in Brooklyn, New York. A special thanks to Allison and Jim Crews for their hospitality and for making this story possible. The music is this episode was from the album Mississippi Number One by Eden Brent of Greenville, Mississippi. Some of Lila Sessum's favorite recipes for game can be found in John Folse's cookbook After the Hunt.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Czech Out Texas Kolaches,” Gravy producer Evan Stern invites listeners to join him on a return trip to his native Texas to explore the history, origins, and evolutions of kolaches through the voices of bakers of varying backgrounds and perspectives. This episode complements the oral history project Stern created for SFA, The Keepers of Kolaches: The Evolutions of Texas-Czech Baking. Few pastries are more intertwined with the fabric of Central Texas than kolaches. With roots in the Czech Nation and owed to 19th Century Moravian immigrants, these soft, pillowy confections of yeasty dough with open centers of fruit, poppyseed or sweet cheese fillings have long provided humble links to the old country in small Texas towns like Halletsville, La Grange, West, and Schulenburg. Yet kolaches have also weathered many transformations under the Lone Star flag and have developed an identity that continues to change—and is, at times, challenging to define. Historian and blogger Dawn Orsak explains how meat filled “klobasnikys” emerged and eventually came to become interchangeable with kolaches in the eyes of the broader public. She argues that Texas-Czech baking should be afforded the same respect as its European ancestors. “Fifty or sixty years after people started immigrating to Texas, what does traditional mean?” she asks. Acclaimed ninety-year-old baker Lydia Mae Faust also speaks to these traditions. She grew up preparing kolaches on her family farm with hand churned cottage cheese, and continues to share and teach her recipes to ensure their preservation. Meanwhile, there's Laos-born, Houston-based Vatsana Souvannavong. The owner of the bakery Koala Kolache, she's on a mission to make kolaches nationally known, and has found in them a vessel for flavors as bulgogi and kimchi, chicken marsala, and Thai chicken and basil. While these bakers' cultural backgrounds vary, their stories ultimately reveal kolaches as emblematic of a changing, increasingly diverse Texas, South, and nation. The group is united in their enthusiasm and hopes for this doughy indulgence's continuity. Acknowledgments Thanks to Vatsana Souvannavong, Dawn Orsak, Lydia Mae Faust, Denise Mazal, and Jerry Haisler For Lydia Faust's kolache recipe, click here. Gravy is proud to be a part of APT Podcast Studios Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “North Carolina Pottery from Clay to Kiln” Gravy producer Wilson Sayre invites us to consider the vehicles that our food sits on—plates. In this episode, she takes us to central North Carolina, where the story of the hand-thrown pottery and its relationship with food is told with gusto.  If you eat with your eyes, then the “plating” of food is an essential component of a meal and the stories that surround it. In North Carolina, the history of baking clay into utilitarian—and beautiful—plates and bowls is an ancient one. That tradition has been handed down for generations and interpreted by each potter who chose to let the clay get under their fingernails. Today, Seagrove, in the central part of the state, is home to the largest concentration of studio potters in the United States. Each potter has their own journey, but as Mark Hewitt explains, it's all a bit “mad.”  He, like many potters, spends weeks or months turning lumps of clay into beautiful vessels. One by one, pots, pitchers and plates take shape on the pottery wheel, receive decoration, and are set into a kiln to undergo their final transformation from brittle dried clay into gleaming vessels. But that transformation is also a gamble, especially for those who fire with wood. Pots can explode, destroying everything in a kiln, or the firing temperature gets too hot (or not hot enough), causing glazes to turn unappealing colors. And yet they take that gamble over and over again. It's how they tell stories, of place and of their artistic journey. Plates are also our story as eaters, says Glenn Hinson, professor of folklore and anthropology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Whether paper or porcelain, plates shape our relationship with the food they hold, as well as our memories of a meal. In this episode, Sayre speaks with Hewitt and Hinson, as well as Delores J. Farmer, founder of Durham's first Black-owned pottery studio, to learn more about the synergies between dirt, food, and plate. With the spotlight shifted to what's underneath our food, we hope listeners will see this whole other canvas for story. Because in the end, when our food is gone, when we're gone, it's from our plates that people will learn about our foodways. Thanks to guest Mark Hewitt, who opens his pottery twice a year for kiln openings. Thanks also to guest Delores Farmer, who offers classes at her studio to folks in Durham, NC, who are interested in getting a bit of clay under their fingernails. Glenn Hinson and his wife, Amy Bauman, were kind enough to welcome the reporter into their home, share a meal, and provide some of the most beautiful plates for the feast. Although they were not featured in this episode, special thanks to professor Bernie Herman for help in pointing us in the right direction and potter Matt Hallyburton, for providing background context and making beautiful work. Gravy is proud to be a part of APT Podcast Studios. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “A Shrimp Boat Blessing with no Shrimp Boats,” Gravy producer Irina Zhorov takes listeners to Bayou La Batre, on Alabama's Gulf Coast. Long known as the seafood capital of Alabama, Bayou La Batre has hosted a Blessing of the Fleet – a festival to bless local commercial shrimp and fishing boats – since the 1940s.  Fishing has long been a dangerous and capricious industry, where luck – in harvests, weather, accidents – has almost as much to do with a captain's success as his skill. The annual blessing, an old European tradition established in Bayou La Batre by a Catholic family of transplants from Louisiana, was a bulwark to ever-present risks. Shrimp boat captains would decorate their boats with festive flags and parade along the bayou, receiving a blessing from the Archbishop of Mobile, a little courage to go back out to sea.  But as the industry changed and evolved, what the Blessing could do seemed less obvious. Boats were built bigger and with refrigeration, so people could stay at sea longer and bring in bigger harvests. At the same time, systemic threats emerged to the shrimping industry. Competition from imports and farm-raised shrimp is keeping shrimp prices unsustainably low while prices for gas, insurance and maintenance grow. The Blessing hasn't kept up with the changes. Many captains are too busy hustling for economic survival to show up. Not a single commercial shrimp boat attended the 2023 Blessing of the Fleet.     In this episode, Zhorov talks to Vincent Bosarge, Deacon at St. Margaret's Church, which hosts the Blessing, who grew up going to the festival; Rodney Lyons, a fisherman whose family once supported the Blessing by donating food but who no longer attends; Jeremy Zirlott, a younger shrimper who says he's struggled to make ends meet in the industry's current state and who's never put his boats in the Blessing; and Tommy Purvis and Kimberly Barrow, who shrimp on the side but for whom the Blessing is a vital tradition.  Acknowledgments Thanks for reporting help from Frye Gaillard, and thanks to our audio engineer, Clay Jones of Broadcast Studios. Gravy is proud to be a part of APT Podcast Studios. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Annie Fisher's Beaten Biscuits Meant Business,” Gravy producer Mackenzie Martin digs into beaten biscuits, the tender, flaky hardtack rolls that date back to the 1800s, when they were often served with ham and particularly popular in the South. Historically speaking, beaten biscuits were incredibly laborious to make—so they were viewed as a culinary delicacy. And at the turn of the 20th century, no beaten biscuits were as famous in Columbia, Missouri, as those made by Annie Fisher. Serving her beaten biscuits at a party or dinner was a major hostess flex. A prominent surgeon wrote that Annie Fisher was “the most efficient cateress in the town of Columbia and that no university or social function was really classy without her service.” These days, the kind of success that culinary entrepreneur Annie Fisher enjoyed a century ago might be partly attributed to an impressive marketing plan, investors, or at the very least, access to a bank loan. But here's the thing about Annie Fisher: As a Black woman in Jim Crow Missouri, she didn't have access to those advantages, and yet she amassed a fortune anyway. In addition to starting a bustling catering enterprise almost completely on her own, Fisher also ran a successful mail-order business shipping to both coasts and became quite the real estate mogul, renting out more than a dozen homes at a time. Her success was heralded nationally with newspaper headlines like “Road to fortune paved with beaten biscuits!” and she was even featured in Clement Richardson's “The National Cyclopedia of the Colored Race” alongside other famed entrepreneurs of the era, like Madam C.J. Walker, the hair care pioneer who became the first Black female millionaire in America. To investigate Fisher's legacy, Martin visits her hometown of Columbia, Missouri, and talks with Verna Laboy, who has been giving historical reenactments of Fisher's story ever since the story first “captivated her soul” 30 years ago. She also meets community leader Sheila Ruffin, who tried unsuccessfully to preserve Fisher's last standing home before it was torn down in 2011. Finally, she speaks with food columnist Donna Battle Pierce. When Pierce was integrating her Columbia elementary school, she says knowing the story of Annie Fisher would have been deeply empowering to her—but she laments that she didn't learn about Fisher until she was well into adulthood. Eighty-five years after Fisher's death, Martin asks, what could it have been like if Columbia had started to celebrate Fisher's legacy sooner? Acknowledgments: This episode of Gravy was reported and produced by Mackenzie Martin, a James Beard-nominated podcast producer and reporter at KCUR Studios in Kansas City, Missouri. She is the senior producer for A People's History of Kansas City and the editor of Seeking A Scientist. Her stories have aired on Morning Edition, All Things Considered, Here & Now and Marketplace. It was part of a collaboration with the KCUR Studios podcast, A People's History of Kansas City. Hosted by Suzanne Hogan, A People's History of Kansas City is a show about the underdogs, renegades and visionaries who shaped City and the region. Special thanks for this episode to KCUR Studios' Suzanne Hogan, historian Mary Beth Brown, historian Bridget Haney, Vox magazine, and the “Renewing Inequality” project at the University of Richmond. For further reading on beaten biscuits, we recommend John Egerton's Southern Food: At Home, on the Road, in History. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices