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Thursday, October 31, 2002

By Miriam Rubin

OXFORD, Miss. -- We arrived late, road-weary and hungry, and we'd missed the first dinner of ribs and barbecued shrimp.

For 48 hours, we wouldn't go hungry again.

For lunch, homemade baked beans and pulled pork sandwiched between lard-fried hoecakes. For dinner, first-rate fried catfish at the funky, grafitti-scribbled, down-home Taylor Grocery. We were happy enough to dance and warm enough for the open-air bus ride back to town.

My husband, David, and I were two of 250 or so at the Southern Foodways Alliance symposium, two Yankees there to learn about the Southern tradition of barbecue. The mission of the 5-year-old SFA is to preserve, embrace and record food traditions and to try to keep them alive. SFA director and our symposium host was the energetic food-and-culture writer John T. Edge.

Speakers were lively, and discussions spirited. Was there something in the sweet tea? Noted Southern food writer Ronni Lundy protested because there'd been no mention of Tennessee mutton barbecue.

New York Times writer R.W. Apple Jr. scoffed at a speaker's pronouncement that barbecue was the only true American food. He countered a claim from columnist Lolis Eric Elie of the New Orleans Times-Picayune that people don't argue about where to find the best hot dog the way they argue about barbecue.

Guess you've never been to Detroit, said Apple. (Detroit is this writer's hometown.) In downtown Detroit there are two -- once there were three -- Coney Island places, right next door to each other. They top their hot dogs with chili and onions and yellow mustard, and everyone argues about which is the best -- but that's another story.

Cookbook author Nathalie Dupree offered an explanation for why barbecue in Texas is (mainly) beef: "The only reason they barbecue beef in Texas is that you can't catch a pig from a horse."

Later she asked me how a Northerner could possibly know what good barbecue is. (I guess southern Greene County doesn't count.) "I know what tastes good," I said.

We learned enticing "barbeculture" phrases such as "barbecue diaspora" because traditions move with people (north and west) and "barbecue cartographer" because one speaker's task was mapping out what sauce and which meat are served in which part of the South.

"A topic too big to map" said Elie. In South Carolina alone, you can get barbecued pork in mustard sauce, in peppery vinegar sauce or in a sweetish, ketchup-based sauce. "Barbecue reflects the range and diversity of the nation."

Bob Garner, author of "North Carolina Barbecue," spoke precisely about regional differences in his home state, where barbecue is pork. "Not ribs, not chicken, not beef."

Barbecued pork, chopped, pulled or sliced and served piled on a plate or on a bun. In the eastern part of the state, where they barbecue whole hogs, the sauce is a hot, salty vinegar sauce.

In the western Piedmont region of North Carolina, they barbecue pork shoulders. The sauce is fruity, sweet-sour; the barbecue often served with spicy coleslaw, dressed with vinegar, sugar, ketchup and pepper, and piled right on the sandwich. The slaw balances the sweetness of the sauce.

"That's the hot part of the barbecue sandwich. It's the slaw that carries the punch," Garner said.

He believes there is a hunger to hold on to Southern barbecue and all that it represents. The danger is that the tradition may stop with the loss of the old pitmasters. "The old hearts," said Garner. "The business won't be the same once the old hearts are gone."

Can there be a Southern election without a barbecue? "Barbecue and politics go together like fat and flavor," quipped Jim Auchmutey of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. For years, if you ran for office, you threw a barbecue -- often to pass the hat. "Pigs are nonpartisan" he said. "Pulled pork is one of the surest ways to voters' hearts."

That evening, we ate barbecue in three different styles, from three different states. Dark-skinned, tender pork shoulder and juicy fall-off-the bone chicken; slabs of ribs and chopped whole hog with peppery-vinegar sauce.

You could have it mixed with sauce, with sauce on the side, or showered with crisp, amber cracklings. If there was room, you could fit in a wedge of sweet-potato pie.

Earlier, the SFA presented a Keeper of the Flame award to James Willis, pit master of Leonard's Barbecue, in Memphis since 1940.

Willis, now 79, barbecued up to 150 pork shoulders each night, seven nights a week. Of the award, he said as some wiped away tears, "It's been a long time coming."

About barbecue, he said, "You got to cook it slow. Don't rush your barbecue."

Willis concluded that unlike what others felt, the key to the flavor is in the sauce. "Cook it slow, and have a good sauce."

Then he and his wife slowly, gracefully, left the podium.

We spent the evening in a muddy field feasting on barbecue, tradition and sauce.

BLUE CHEESE COLESLAW

A finalist in the SFA Coleslaw and Potato Salad Invitational, this unusual slaw was created by Marti Schimmel of Athens, Ga. Running the invitational was Elizabeth Karmel, host of Girlsatthegrill.com, and participants judged.

• 1 medium head green cabbage, cored and shredded by hand or in a food processor
  
• 2 medium carrots, shredded
  
• 1/4 cup finely chopped sweet white onion
  
• 1/2 cup cider vinegar
  
• 3 tablespoons sugar
  
• Salt
  
• 1/2 cup mayonnaise
  
• 1/2 cup sour cream
  
• 1/3 cup crumbled mild blue cheese
  
• Freshly ground pepper to taste

In a large bowl, place cabbage, carrots and onion. In small saucepan, stir vinegar, sugar and 1 teaspoon salt. Bring to a boil over medium heat. Pour over cabbage, toss well and let stand 15 minutes.

Drain cabbage well in a colander; return to bowl.

Add mayonnaise, sour cream, blue cheese, and salt and pepper to taste. Toss to mix. Cover and refrigerate at least 30 minutes before serving. Makes 8 to 10 servings.

MOCK-RIDGEWOOD BARBECUE SAUCE

Author John Shelton Reed provided this recipe, devised by the women of Kingsport, Tenn., his hometown. It is based on the barbecue sauce that is served at the Ridgewood in Piney Flats, Tenn. According to Reed, "This is what ketchup will taste like in heaven."

• 1 24-ounces bottle Heinz ketchup
  
• 1/2 cup vegetable oil
  
• 1 medium onion, chopped
  
• 5 tablespoons sugar
  
• 1/4 cup Worcestershire sauce
  
• 1/4 cup cider vinegar
  
• 3 tablespoons molasses
  
• 1 tablespoon mustard (we used Heinz spicy brown)
  
• 1 tablespoon Tabasco
  
• 1 tablespoon browning and seasoning sauce (we didn't add this)
  
• 1 large garlic clove, chopped
  
• 1/4 teaspoon each salt and pepper

Place all ingredients in a blender and process until smooth. Pour into a heavy medium nonalumium saucepan and bring to a boil over medium heat. Reduce heat to low and simmer, stirring often, 20 minutes. Makes 4 cups.

OTIS P. BOYD'S SWEET SLAW

A delicious and simple coleslaw adapted from "Smokestack Lightning," a book about a journey through barbecue country, written by Lolis Eric Elie.

• 1 large head green cabbage, cored and shredded
  
• 2 medium carrots, shredded
  
• 1 medium green bell pepper, chopped
  
• 1 1/2 cups mayonnaise or salad dressing
  
• 3 tablespoons sugar
  
• 1 to 3 tablespoons cider vinegar
  
• Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

In a large bowl, toss together cabbage, carrots and bell pepper.

In a small bowl, stir mayonnaise, sugar, and vinegar. Spoon dressing over cabbage mixture. Season well with salt and pepper, and toss to mix. Makes about 9 cups or 8 servings.