Struttin’ with Some Barbecue

If you like barbecue and jazz (both southern delicacies for sure, though I prefer the former), you should familiarize yourself with the song, “Struttin’ with Some Barbecue.”  It was first composed and recorded by none other than Louis “Brunswick Stewy” Armstrong.  According to Allmusic.com, “Struttin'” has been recorded by dozens of artists since Armstrong’s original version under, appropriately enough, both the original “Barbecue” and alternative “Barbeque” spellings.  A version has even been recorded under the name “Struttin’ with Some Korean Barbeque.”

One Word: Livermush

Livermush: Click the image to read about it!

If you frequent barbecue joints in Lexington, Salisbury or other parts of the state where the barbecue tradition is closely linked to German settlers,  sooner or later you are likely to run into something called livermush.  Although it sounds like a Dr. Seuss-invented food, livermush is very real.  Heck, it exists on Wikipedia so it must be real.  Also, I’ve seen it in person so I can personally attest to its existence.  Full disclosure: I have yet to work up the nerve to taste livermush, largely because it is, according to Wikipedia, “composed of pig liver, head parts, and cornmeal.”  It’s the vagueness of “head parts” that has me quaking in my boots.  I am also a bit nervous of the food because it is served both at breakfast (often with grape jelly) and at lunch (with mustard).  Odd. 

Actually, I am planning to eat livermush some day soon.  Truth be told, I only noticed livermush on BBQ menus very recently.  Apparently my usual laser-like focus on the barbecue portion of menus has limited my awareness of certain items.  See a nice picture of a livermush sandwich at the foodie blog Pretty by the Bay, run by a North Carolina ex-patriate who now lives in San Francisco.  Next time I get the chance, I will order livermush and report back to you.  In the meantime, do any of you readers have anything to say about livermush?

Kraft: “The Boss Sauce”

I stumbled into this classic piece of American television history somewhat disturbing blaxploitation commercial and thought it was interesting.  Hopefully this video provides yet another compelling reason to put down the Kraft and pick up a bottle of sauce from your local barbecue joint.  Local sauce is boss, man. Groovy.  Ya dig?

 

On the Origin of Brunswick Stew Species

For those of you who believe in evolution, I thought you might be interested to learn about the origin of Brunswick Stew, that classic accompaniment to Eastern North Carolina barbecue.  But then it seems Brunswick Stew’s story is as much a creationist one as it is a story of evolution.

As served today in North Carolina barbecue joints, Brunswick Stew’s recipe varies significantly from place to place.  Common ingredients include chicken, pork, corn, lima beans, tomatoes and more.  The consistency ranges from quite soupy to rather thick, and the texture from chunky to almost baby-food soft.  Even the color ranges from bright tomato red to a sickly brownish-gray.

Although present day species of Brunswick Stew have evolved over the years to adapt to whatever niche they fill, with ingredients varying widely from region to region and cook to cook, all the Brunswick Stews seem to have a common ancestor.  Or maybe two.  The origin of Brunswick Stew remains in dispute roughly a century and a half after it emerged from the primordial soup of southern culture.  Continue reading

BBQ Book Review: Smokestack Lightning

I recently read Smokestack Lightning and strongly recommend you drop whatever you are doing to buy a copy right now.  Although this book only includes one chapter on North Carolina barbecue (and it is a chapter shared with–gasp–South Carolina), it is one of the best books on barbecue ever written.  Smokestack Lightning–the title taken from the classic Howlin’ Wolf song–is in small part a barbecue guide book, in even smaller part a cookbook and in large part a sociological treatise on American culture.  Whichever part you’re most interested in, all parts of Smokestack Lighting are well worth reading.   

Author Lolis Eric Elie, who when he set out to write the book was the road manager for the Winton Marsalis Septet, writes in the preface: “Our thesis was this. Barbecue reflects and embodies all the important themes in American history and culture–region, race, migration, immigration, religion, politics.  Yet this art, so vital to our national identity was dying or at least endangered.  We were half right…  we were also half wrong.” 

In the introduction, Elie continues to explain the underlying purpose of the book.  “We know that barbecue is a metaphor for American culture in a broad sense,” he writes, “and that it is a more appropriate metaphor than any other American food.  Barbecue alone encompasses the high- and lowbrows, the sacred and the profane, the urban and the rural, the learned and the unlettered, the blacks, the browns, the yellows, the reds, and the whites.  Barbecue, then, is a fitting barometer for the changes, good and bad, that have taken place in the country, and this book, ostensibly about that food, is really about the people and places and consistencies and changes that produce it.”

As the quotes above indicate, there are some pretty heady themes in Smokestack Lightning.  It’s a refreshing change to read a barbecue book that goes so deep into its subject–well past the hickory and mesquite smoke, well past the pork and beef, and straight into the marrow of American culture, history and race relations.  But despite all the serious themes that help carry the book forward, Smokestack Lightning stops short of being too serious for its own good and certainly is never dull.  Quite the opposite, it is full of rich storytelling and humor.  One funny anecdote has a relative of notoriously surly jazz legend Miles Davis’ trying to impress him by bringing him barbecue from his hometown of East St. Louis, where snoots are the specialty.  After traveling by plane with this carefully packaged barbecue treat for Miles, the only response the relative gets from him is, “Motherf*&ker, why you f%*k up my snoots?”

Smokestack Lightning was first published in 1996 and the second edition was printed in 2005.  It is not currently in print but it is available used on Amazon.com and other sites.  The fact that the book is a few years out of date only adds to the timeless nature of the stories, the people featured, and the splendid black and white photography by Frank Stewart.

Defining the Styles

“People who would put ketchup in the sauce they feed to innocent children are capable of most anything… [W]e, the Eastern North Carolina purveyors of pure barbecue, will not be roadkill for our western kin.” – Former Raleigh News & Observer columnist Dennis Rogers reflecting on a legislative proposal to make Lexington’s Barbecue Festival the state’s official celebration of BBQ (see more quotables here).

Back when he wrote for the N&O, Rogers carried on a funny, long-lasting intrastate feud with fellow journalist Jerry Bledsoe, who used to write for the now-defunct Greensboro Daily News.  Bledsoe took every opportunity to extoll the virtues of the Lexington-style barbecue served in towns like Greensboro, Salisbury, Lexington (of course) and other parts of the Piedmont.  Rogers, on the other hand, denigrated Lexington-style ‘cue any chance he got, instead singing the praises of the Eastern-style ‘cue served in Wilson, Greenville, Goldsboro and other towns east of Raleigh. 

But is the chasm between Eastern- and Lexington-style ‘cue really that large?  Although I will make neither side of the state happy by saying this, I think not.   I can claim to be fairly neutral on the debate, having grown up on the edge of the tectonic BBQ plate where Eastern- and Lexington-styles collide.  Now perhaps that just makes me totally unqualified to judge, but nonetheless below is a short summary of the two styles.  You’ll note that the differences are pretty minor outside of the cut of meat used.  Furthermore, it is not uncommon for joints to incorporate elements of both styles (e.g., Allen & Son in Chapel Hill cooks shoulders but serves them with a quintessential Eastern-style sauce).

  LEXINGTON-STYLE EASTERN-STYLE
Geography Burlington and west Raleigh and east
Origin of style Circa 1910s Colonial times
Meat Pork shoulders chopped, sliced, coarse-chopped Whole hog chopped
The Sauce/Dip “Dip” made w/ vinegar, hot pepper, salt, other spices, a bit of ketchup “Sauce” made w/ vinegar, hot pepper, salt, other spices, NO ketchup
Cooking Method Traditionally, slow-cooked over hickory/oak coals. This method is dying off but is more prevalent than down east. Traditionally, slow-cooked over hickory/oak coals. Gas and electric cookers are all too common, but a proud few still cook over wood.
Typical Sides Hush puppies or rolls, red slaw, fries. Hush puppies or corn bread, white slaw, boiled potatoes, Brunswick stew, greens, more.
Beverage Iced tea (sweet, of course) Iced tea (sweet, of course)
Best Virtue Orders of “outside brown” are divine Whole hog is the original American BBQ
Famous Joints Hursey’s, Lexington #1, Stamey’s B’s, Skylight Inn, Wilber’s

Barbecue Fever

In case you missed it, this weekend’s Saturday Night Live had a fake ad for Carter ‘N Sons BBQ. In it, the restaurant uses a slogan that’s…um…regrettable, in light of the H1N1 virus.

Hint: I’ve got a fever and the only prescription is more swine.

That’s right, I’ve got Swiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine Fever!

While I got a chuckle out of the sketch, I was more interested in seeing what kind of ‘cue comes to mind for a bunch of comedy writers when they think  about BBQ. Apparently, it’s Texas-style barbecue.  The music, outfits and, yes,  the Texas flag give away their leanings.

Toward the end, though, there’s definitely a barbecue sandwich, as North Carolinians know it. But it kinda looks like a Texas or New York interpretation of chopped barbecue.

After spending a few minutes pondering what this sandwich would taste like, I decided I had too much time on my hands. Then again, maybe I just have Swiiiiiiiiiiiiine Fever!

Raleigh’s Got Sauce

PitMaster09ad

Thursday, October 29th is the deadline to enter NCBBQ.com’s “Pit Master’s Choice Awards: North Carolina’s State Sauce Competition.” Any North Carolina resident can enter; Yankees, Texans and other such scourge of the earth need not apply.

The contest will be held Nov. 7 at Raleigh’s Ray Price Harley-Davidson in conjunction with the dealership’s annual barbecue cookoff and blood drive (blood type BBQ+ is in especially high demand).  There are amateur and professional divisions, and sauce can be entered in Eastern style, Western style and non-traditional categories. 

Judges include N.C. barbecue expert Bob Garner (a man who has eaten his weight in BBQ several times over), food critic J. Scott Wilson, sanctioned barbecue competition judge Jerry Snead, Wake Tech chef-instructor Fredi Morf, and “voice of the people” (we have no idea what that means but the event website says it) Ned Perry. 

For all the details and an entry form, visit the Web site.

East v. West Continued

Here’s yet another chapter in the neverending debate about the relative merits of Eastern-style ‘cue versus Lexington/Western-style ‘cue.   Make sure to check out the many reader comments, which are at least as fun as the dueling articles.  As for the articles themselves, editor Matthew Eisley wins the best quote award with this gem:

“When I was a child, I spake as a child, understood as a child, thought as a child, and naively ate tomato-based barbecue as a child.  But when I became a man, I put away childish sauces and embraced the unadulterated ambrosia that is North Carolina’s sacred, primordial and peerless eastern-style barbecue.”

As someone who genuinely likes both styles, I’ll stay out of the fray.  For an overview of Eastern- vs. Lexington-style BBQ, check out a recent guest post I wrote for the News & Observer’s Mouthful blog here.

Finding Religion at a Pig Pickin’

Earlier this summer a buddy of mine invited me to join him at a pig pickin’ hosted by his co-worker, Billy Mitchell.  I’ve been to quite a few pig pickin’s before but this was my first pig pickin’ hosted by someone I’d never met.  And yet it turned out to be one of my favorites.  Maybe it was the copious amounts of roasted pork I ate, or maybe it was the bucolic location complete with a “garden” that was probably a half an acre and goats, horses and other “pets.”  Maybe it was Billy demonstrating the shag to some recent New York transplants.  Whatever it was, I truly enjoyed my time at this pig pickin’.  Thanks, Billy, for inviting me to join and for sending me home with a bag full of ‘cue big enough to make my dog drool, my wife’s eyes roll and my breath smell like pork for several days.

Fire chief by day, fire starter by night: Billy Mitchell. (Photo by Conor "Swine factor" Keeney

Fire chief by day, fire starter by night: gracious host/pitmaster Billy Mitchell. (Photo by Conor "Swine Factor" Keeney.)

As I stood at the edge of Billy’s pond with a cold beer in my hand and hot grease coursing through my veins, I got to thinking about what makes pig pickin’s so special.  What separates them from an ordinary cookout or a potluck?  As best I could determine with a belly full of pork, rolls, slaw, tea, pickled beets, banana pudding, pickles, Lexington-style dip, and beer, it’s the fellowship that makes pig pickin’s stand out.  The dictionary definition of fellowship is, a “community of interest, activity, feeling, or experience” or “a company of equals or friends.”  Something about a pig pickin’ brings out this sense of community and equality.

What causes such great fellowship at pig pickin’s?  I think it has something to do with a pig pickin’ host spending all day cooking an 100+ pound hog just in order to share it with his friends, family, neighbors and whatever complete strangers (like me) might happen to drop by.  It’s an act of faith, devotion and sacrifice to put that much time, energy and care into a meal that hungry visitors will scarf down in a few minutes.  So, thanks for the food and fellowship Billy, and I hope I get to return the favor one of these days.