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Sunday, September 23, 2012

Don't Try This at Home


Don't Try This at Home: Culinary Catastrophes by the World's Greatest Chefs edited by Kimberly Witherspoon and Andrew Friedman - Haven't you always wanted to start your own catering business? Open your own quaint little restaurant? I know, I know. You have visions of sitting around at the bar, sipping tea and creating delicacies that everyone will oooh and ahhh over. Everyone will love you. You will become beautiful and life will be perfect. Not! Trust me. I know this from experience. I had a restaurant once. It was nothing but a nonstop nightmare.

So when I ran across "Don't Try This at Home: Culinary Catastrophes from the World's Greatest Chefs," I thought maybe it would help me lick the wounds I'm still licking 30 years after I lost my little fantasy. And it did! This is the stuff of nightmares that everyone -- even those who don't cook for a living -- can enjoy. Grab a cup of tea with a nice side order of schadenfreude, and eat your heart out.

Chefs aren't always brilliant. Now, don't you feel better just knowing that? The book opens with a truly horrific tale of a chef who let the lobster spoil the night before catering a lobster dinner for 3,000 people. I almost had a panic attack, myself, just reading about how he had to scramble to try to salvage that disaster.

A story by Anthony Bourdain about a New Year's Eve dinner that flopped spectacularly had nearly the same effect on me. Then there was the one by former Good Morning America food correspondent Sara Moulton about cooking and flubbing her first Thanksgiving dinner after attending culinary school that was downright heartwarming. And the one by Gabrielle Hamilton, who, worried about being politically incorrect, hired a blind line cook...with disastrous results.

There are plenty more tales of woe, tender and tough, and I recommend this highly to anyone who's ever had to pass off store-bought pecan pie as homemade to a busload of tourists who just have to have real Southern cooking because someone forgot to write it down. Who me? Never.

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Slick Rick's Cafe: A Daily Special

Story and Photos by Elodie Pritchartt

When the workers started renovating the newly closed restaurant on North Pearl Street in Natchez three years ago, I wanted to tell them not to spend too much money.  I’d seen restaurants come and go — good restaurants with good food.  And I’d about decided the location was jinxed.   I’d tried the restaurant business, myself, once.  I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.  It’s a tough business.  

The proprietor, Rick Simons, was young and eager and going all out to make it something good.  With a shaved head and a few well-placed piercings, he looked as though he’d be more at home in a heavy metal band than a kitchen.  I love being proved wrong. 

Since Slick Rick’s Café opened three years ago, there’s been a steady stream of hungry diners.  With just a handful of tables inside and one big table outside, its all-day hours make it an easy fit for anybody’s off-hour appetite.   

So what’s different this time?  The food.  And what’s so different about the food?  Its originality — Rick has a knack for taking an everyday dish like chicken salad or BLT and turning it into something special, using unusual ingredients like Portobello mushrooms, sundried and heirloom tomatoes, black bean salsas and special sauces and dressings he prepares himself with spices he creates, himself.  

He offers wraps and sandwiches using whole wheat or spinach tortillas, wrapped around tequila-lime marinated shrimp, blackened chicken and pork loin, toasted French bread topped with a spicy crawfish sauce.  There’s always a tempting assortment of pastries and cupcakes on hand, as well.

Rick has created his own line of organic spice mixes, which he sells in the café and calls red, black, salty and spicy, chili, garlic and herb, steak, and red-hot.

“You know how an artist likes to use certain colors in his paintings,” says Rick.  “These spices are like my palette.  Every chef likes to put his own signature on the way the food tastes and looks, and that is what you might call my thing.

Turns out I was right about one thing.  Food wasn’t Rick’s first choice.

“When I went to school I got my degree in recording arts for sound and music in Orlando, which is kind of the exact opposite of what I’m doing now,” he says.  “But they’re both creative ways to make a living,” he adds.  “It’s one of the few things that involves all the senses — seeing, tasting, touching, smelling.”

Simons learned how to cook at the foot of an African-American woman who worked for his family in Sandersville, Mississippi.  Rick knew her as Mama Johnnie. 

“I would hang out in the kitchen with her while she cooked,” he remembers.  “I’d pull out the bottom drawer in the oven and pull out all the pots and pans and get in the oven and watch her cook.  I learned how to make gravies and roux.”

Rick first got serious about food after a stint in college working for a catering company.  Not long after he started work full time at a restaurant, starting out as a dishwasher and eventually working his way up to second cook, then kitchen manager for daytime lunch.  He moved on to Chappy’s La Font Inn in Pascagoula where he remained for two-and-a-half years.   Then Katrina hit, and the restaurant was destroyed.

He moved to Natchez and tried a short stint in real estate, which just didn’t satisfy his creative urges.  He got a job at Monmouth Plantation, starting out helping in the kitchen and working alongside another noted Natchez chef, Regina Charbonneau.  He was eventually hired on an as the executive chef, helping open the fine-dining restaurant 1818.

“I wrote their first menu,” he recalls.

After about a year he started creating his spice line and went to work on Slick Rick’s café. 

He’s twice won first place in the Clash in the Kitchen fundraiser competition for the Mississippi Firefighters Memorial Burn Association in Jackson, MS.

The restaurant is now doing some remodeling of the kitchen as well as the menu.  Alongside its tried-and-true dishes like crawfish bread, the ultimate BLT, Mexican shrimp wrap and Rick’s famous chicken salad, he’ll introduce some new dishes, although he’s keeping most of it under wraps.  While you wait for your food, you can browse the spice collection, the pre-seasoned, cast-iron cookware and the beautiful, pink Himalayan salt blocks for seasoning or presentation.  He’ll also be doing more catering.

“I want to change the way Natchez sees the food industry,” he says.  “I’ve always heard that if you’re going to do something, pick one thing and do it well.” 

I think he’s done that.  Very well, indeed.

Slick Rick’s Café 107 North Pearl Street, Natchez, MS 39120  Phone 601.445.9900.

Hours Monday – Friday 10 a.m. – 6 p.m. and Saturday 10 a.m – 9 p.m.



Friday, August 31, 2012

Living Interracial: Lloyd and Nancy Johnson

Lloyd "Teddy" and Nancy Johnson have been married for nearly 35 years, and run well-known blues bar 'Teddy's Juke Joint'  in Zachary, Louisiana.  Teddy's is one of the last authentic juke joints on the old Blues Highway 61.

"The couple said they have experienced a great deal of harassment over the years, especially in the beginning of their relationship. Despite those hardships, the two remain committed to each other and their business."~ Kevin McQuarn, Online Entertainment Editor/Chief Videographer
Producer/Host of 2theMovies
The Advocate
www.theadvocate.com

Used with permission

I've been to Teddy's several times. (see Ann Vidal's Wild Ride, April, 2010) Teddy and Nancy have created a fun, funky atmosphere where people play the blues but seldom feel it.  It's a good vibe.


Thursday, August 23, 2012

The Tractor

Photos by Randy Laird.  Used with permission.

It stood motionless,
the Deere at the edge
of the woods, as though waiting
for something, for someone
to bring the come-along
and finish
what we started.

The bushes moved
in like guerilla soldiers. Stealthy.
The bush hog lay
wounded in the weeds.

And standing in that patch
of angled sunlight,
the heat ticking off
the hours
and minutes
and days
and moments
of reflection and rejection,
it seemed as though I heard a sigh.

The trees, their reply,
a sudden shudder,
showered leaves like trouble
you'd just as soon forget.
Birds burst forth with screams.
Why?  Why?

Had the tractor been brought to clear the brush
or had the brush moved in to claim the tractor?
Who was the warrior here? Who the vanquished?

Insect battalions chant their nightly ululations
and the creepers crawl.

Like a Confederate soldier
fighting someone else's war,
the Deere stands, a silent sentinel
slowly bleeding
precious oil into the ground
and asks us to remember, or
at least not to forget.

Will man ever make order out of chaos
instead of the other way 'round?

Listen to the land.  She will tell you.
Beyond the darkening woods,
behind the hill, you can feel it
a distant rumble
thunder, hoofbeats
the coming roar.

August 14, 2006

Saturday, August 4, 2012

A report on Natchez 1932

Natchez, Mississippi, 1932 -- Two years ago we were in Natchez on a business trip.  My husband, looking out of the hotel window, called my attention to an amusing sight.  


Rumbling down the middle of Main Street was a wagon pulled by an old horse.  The reins hung loose along his back and he threaded his way through the traffic at a lazy gait, an ancient straw hat set rakishly on his head.  


The negro driver was fast asleep, slumped down in his seat with his mouth wide open.  The wagon was loaded with large boxes of nationally advertised food products.  What matter if they reached their destination after an hour or so delay?  Even time moves slowly in Natchez.


"How would you like to live in Natchez?" Bill asked, laughing, and I said I'd love it.


That was in jest, of course, but after two years here we are.


~ Sue Brown Hays




I ran across this delightful description of Natchez a few days ago when I was handed a letter written by a Mr. Bill Hays of Baton Rouge, who was trying to find a descendant of my uncle Balfour Miller.  Sometime in the 1930s, Mr. Hay's father owned and operated a tire store in Natchez for about a year.



 "When we lived in Natchez I was about a year old," said Bill, Jr.  "My parents rented a house in town. They both noticed the house had unusual noises from time to time.

"Being from old houses, and as they were in Natchez; they told one another it was merely a ghost. They even named her 'Anna Belle.'

"There was a trap door in the hall which went to the cellar. When my father had to work late, Mother would put the rocker over the hole and rock me until he returned."

After a year or so Bill's father returned to a job with Goodrich Tire Co.  

"As we were leaving Daddy opened a small door to the cellar to find it had been recently occupied by a couple of bums.  He said he told the landlord who did not seem to be concerned.  

"I remember them saying that old house must have been a duplex.  They just never knew it."



Mrs. Hays was a writer, and wrote a mystery novel set in Natchez in the 1940s called Go Down, Death.   I found a copy of the book online and am so looking forward to reading it.

Also included with the letter was a cute poem Mrs. Hays had penned around 1932.    It was written on Eola Hotel letterhead, where she was staying while her husband traveled out of town with a tire company.




I have a feeling I would've liked Mrs. Hays, and hope she had fond memories of the Eola and Natchez.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Building Dreams for a Song


When the band Chicago released Color My World in 1971, I was in 9th grade.  The languid cadence of the piano introduction was captivating and beautiful.  It’s been called the most famous major seventh chord in the history of music, and it was — bar none — the best slow-dance song of my generation.

 One day in study hall I heard that chord being played on the baby grand piano down in Coach Parker’s classroom.  I went to see who was playing.

It was a new kid – a shy young boy with jet-black locks that hung down in his eyes as he played, totally lost in the music.  His name was Tommy Polk, and he’d picked the song out by ear.  Feeling out of place, not knowing anyone and not having an athletic bent, Tommy found refuge and release and friends through music. Who doesn’t want to hang with the kid in the band? 

“I was never good at sports,” he says. “I was always on the sidelines and never got any recognition. When I was about nine I took a guitar to class and played. Everyone noticed. I was not on the sidelines; I was not overlooked or ignored. I was hooked.”


When he was old enough to drive, he took his guitar to a secluded spot on the bluff where he would sit in the shade, the river a wide, shimmering ribbon down below with the flat, Louisiana delta beyond.  He started writing songs — the first of hundreds.

Tommy would make music his life. In that little classroom in this quiet little town his journey had only just begun.  He moved to Nashville in 1979.  In 1981 he began working at a boutique music-publishing company co-owned by one of Britain’s most successful songwriters, Roger Cook, and Canadian-born Ralph Murphy.  Between them they had written huge hits, such as, I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing; Long, Cool Woman in a Black Dress; Here Comes that Rainy Day Feelin’ Again; and Half the Way.

Under Cook and Murphy, Tommy learned about music publishing, foreign publishing, performing rights, copyrights, song plugging, signing writers, catalog acquisition, demo recordings and record production.

“When I left for Nashville in ‘79, I had written a hundred or so songs at that point. I thought I was going to be the biggest thing since sliced bread,” he says shaking his head. “Wrong!  It would be another 200 songs before I got my first substantial cut.”

In 1989 Tommy signed with Warner-Chappel Music Publishing where he stayed for four years, after which he remained as a signed songwriter, as well as with various publishing houses in Nasvhille, including EMI, Hamstein, The Farm, OMG/Acuff Rose. He also has extensive catalogs at other publishing companies including Sony Tree.

Some of Tommy’s hit songs include Look What Followed Me Home by David Ball; He Feels Guilty to Me by Bobbie Cryner; I Don’t Want You to Go by Carolyn Dawn Johnson; the recently released Beyond My Broken Dreams by Eden Brent; and Willing to Crawl by Johnny Neel, which was featured on HBO’s True Blood in 2009.   He’s even written songs for Irma Thomas and Bobbly Blue Bland.

“I loved what I was doing,” he says.  “I couldn’t wait to get up in the morning.  It wasn’t work; it was play.”

Then somehow things changed. 

“I don’t know,” he says.  “It seemed like the music business had become more cutthroat. People were downloading music off the Internet, which really hurt financially, both for me and for everyone else.  Even the music changed. Performers were writing their own songs rather than using songwriters.  A lot of people were out of work.  Perhaps I changed, too.  It just wasn’t as much fun anymore.”

So Polk switched gears, opening a one-of-a-kind B&B in Clarksdale, Mississippi, called Shack-Up Inn with a couple of business partners. 

“We moved some sharecropper shacks onto my cousin’s cotton plantation and just fixed them up enough to be livable.”

They were simple, rough shacks, the kind where the original old blues players wrote and performed their music — people like Son Thomas, John Lee Hooker, Robert Johnson, Lead Belly and others.  It was a huge success. 

“People wanted the blues experience,” he said.  “And they came from everywhere — England, Germany, Japan and the United States.”

It dawned on him that Clarksdale had become a music-tourist destination. He discovered he liked the hospitality business and opened three more.  He decided to move to Clarksdale permanently and bought a house for his mother there. 

When he came back to Natchez to sell his mother’s house in Vidalia, he looked around and realized he didn’t want to cut all ties to his hometown.

Shantybellum
“Natchez is really one of the most beautiful towns in the world,” he says.  “So I bought another shack to use as a B&B and called it ‘Shantybellum.’  I figured I could hire someone to run it here and have a place to stay when I came to visit.”

Shantybellum reflected in the bottle tree
While restoring the house, though, he decided he really wanted to come home for good.  So he stayed, eventually selling the B&B’s in Clarksdale and going to work as a consultant for the town of Ferriday under Mayor Glenn McGlothin, a musician, himself.

“I took Glenn to Clarksdale to show him what we’d done.  He loved it.  And told him that with Ferriday’s musical heritage, I bet we could do the same thing here.”

Jerry Lee Lewis museum
Photo courtesy of The Concordia Sentinel (used with permission)
Will Haney
Ferriday is home to some remarkable music history.  Double-first cousins Jerry Lee Lewis, Mickey Gilley and Jimmy Swaggart are native sons.  For years Haney’s Big House, which burned in 1966, had been a feature attraction on the Chitlin’ Circuit, hosting such notable African American entertainers as B.B. King, Moms Mabley, Redd Foxx, Ray Charles and Bobby Bland.

After witnessing smokestack industry pass up Ferriday as a place to do business for years, McGlothin agreed on a new economic development plan focusing on tourism and music tourism combined with a healthy dose of cultural-heritage tourism.

Frogmore Plantation
Building on tourism assets already in the area like Frogmore Plantation, the Lewis Family Museum, the Delta Music Museum and the Arcade Theater, they got grants.  The plan called for:

·      The renovation of a burned-out shell of a building into an open-air venue called Rockabilly Plaza, which would also function as a farmer's market/music venue and arts center for youth, and with original artwork/murals on exterior walls.

·      The renovation of a deteriorating railroad property into the Haney’s Big House Music Hall to include a large, fully covered outdoor stage for festivals and events. 

·      The partial restoration of an underutilized railroad building to be leased as a private club.


In addition, Ferriday began hosting an annual songwriters workshop at the Arcade for local songwriting hopefuls, bringing many of Tommy’s Nashville co-writers to teach about the business and craft of music.  Ferriday also created and hosted the annual Soul Survivors Festival, honoring Will Haney and Haney’s Big House and the musicians associated with Haney’s from the 1940s until its destruction in 1966.

Playing air guitar on a cane at the Soul Survivors Festival
It was an uphill job.  McGlothin had to deal with water issues and his own health issues as well.  But they persevered. On May 22 at the third-annual Soul Survivors Festival, McGlothin presided over a ribbon-cutting ceremony at the new Will Haney’s Big House Music Hall and Jerry Lee Lewis Rockabilly Park and Plaza, the renaming of First Street to Pee Wee Whittaker Avenue, the naming of Will Haney Circle and the placement of seven historic markers downtown honoring Ferriday’s past and people.

As McGlothin’s mayoral term comes to a close, Tommy is looking ahead.  He hopes to continue working as a consultant in the area.  He’s even going back to songwriting.

“I’m playing with a local band in Natchez called Back Roads,” he says.  “I’m also beginning to write again with two of my Nashville cowriters on Skype and putting lyrics on prerecorded tracks sent as mp3 to me. High-tech Tommy songs.”


He looks back on his time with McGlothin in Ferriday fondly.

Mayor Glen McGlothin, left; Tommy Polk, right
“I am so glad Glenn asked me to come aboard. For four years now I've been able to focus on music, even bringing Nashville friends and cowriters down to Ferriday, and working on downtown development projects that I am so proud to have been a part of. 

“In researching Haney's for Ferriday I learned that three of the headliners during its heyday would record some of my songs. I loved learning that.  Who would’ve guessed it?

“We will leave our babies behind for the next administration to nurture and grow Ferriday into a music destination. The ball is in their court. I wish them well.  They have a tremendous tourism opportunity.  I hope Mayor-elect Gene Allen will make the most of it.”