Cornbread Nation 2: The United States of Barbecue (Cornbread Nation: Best of Southern Food Writing) (20 page)

Weber equipment helped balconies beckon city dwellers to the grill. An in tegral part of apartment houses constructed in the 1950s, the balcony by the
i96os was perceived as "the sign of someone who could not afford to go away
on weekends." Nevertheless this was the period when apartment dwellers who
did not possess a penthouse first entered the barbecue movement. Weber had
developed a kettle grill that attached to the balcony railing. It cost only $34.95.
New York City's fire code, which prohibited open fires within the city limits,
was ignored.

So taken with the barbecue were New Yorkers that Hammacher-Schlemmer
showed increased sales of aluminum waterfalls and tents to protect the balcony barbecuer from the weather. City dwellers could barbecue year-round.

In the sixties and seventies, such traditional carriers of barbecue articles as
Ladies Home Journal, House Beautiful, and Better Homes and Gardens significantly reduced their coverage of barbecue. However, magazines with a specialized readership-Ebony, Seventeen, Esquire, and Fifty Plus-began publishing such articles. Ironically, Ebony courted black readers, the originators of
American barbecue. This trend reflected the tremendous assimilation of blacks
into white American culture during the 196os and 1970s. Ebony, founded in
1945, did not print its first article related to the barbecue, "Dishes for Patio
Dining," until 1961. Photographed were Pork Kabobs and California Spare
Ribs; lesser emphasis was put on a Lamb Chop Mixed Grill and Homestyle
Hamburger. Three years elapsed before the magazine wrote its next article on
barbecuing, "Budget Barbecue." In 1975, Ebony would run an article entitled
"Barbecue is Favored by Blacks of all Classes." It was part of an issue devoted
to the middle-class black: "Without doubt, the black middle class and the
masses share one common posture. For barbecues are recognized as a graceful, informal way to entertain whether on a penthouse garden, or in the heart
of the ghetto. Part of its popularity rises from the fact that there is no substitute for the true tangy flavor of barbecued meat."

The increased overseas travel by Americans made possible by fleets of jet
airplanes that lowered the cost of a ticket created a consumer more sophisticated and international in his or her outlook. The new style revealed itself
most conspicuously at the dinner table. Editors adapted recipes to the barbecue. The consummate culinarist, Craig Claiborne, a Mississippi native presumably raised on traditional Southern barbecue, paved the way in his September 3, 1961, New York Times magazine article, "The Last Best Barbecue." He
included a recipe for Pork Satay, a barbecued pork dish of East Indonesian
origin. Twenty-three months later, in an article entitled "Back to Basic Barbecue," he reversed course, stating, "The current mania for charcoal cooking has led outdoor chefs to indulge in some far-flung flights of culinary fancy. Sauces
for the barbecue may contain ingredients that range from vin ordinaire to
champagne, from lemon and lime to pomegranate juice."

Mr. Claiborne's call went unheeded. In the next fifteen years, articles would
present barbecue recipes from Argentina, Pakistan, Australia, Armenia, Yugoslavia, Brazil, India, and Mongolia. The backyard barbecue, versatile and
adaptable, became an American industry that continues to grow.

There is no stronger test of an observant Jew's true commitment to his or her
faith than the aroma that wafts over East Memphis from Corky's Restaurant
when the barbecue pits are slow-roasting pork ribs. Anyone who can resist
that aroma, especially anyone raised in the South, either has strong will power,
is a vegetarian from out of state, or is a member of nearby Orthodox congregations Baron Hirsch or Anshei Sphard-Beth El Emeth. For as long as barbecue has been eaten in Memphis, the smell and taste of this forbidden meat has
plagued Jewish Memphians. Why the dilemma? Because for Memphians, barbecue historically refers to pork, not beef, not chicken, not even blackened red
fish, but the pure unadulterated pig, primarily the shoulder cut and the ribs.

The taste of Memphis barbecue, the allure of its culture, the cult-like behavior of its followers, and its overwhelming presence throughout the city
cause one to consider the irony that such a phenomenon coexists with one of
the largest Orthodox congregations in the nation. Did a higher power place
these Orthodox Jews in Memphis to test their faith? Is Memphis barbecue in
some way responsible for the fact that one of the nation's largest Reform congregations is also located in the city? In the past, there was little middle
ground when it came to Jewish observance in Memphis. Until the first Conservative congregation in Memphis was founded in the 1950s, Memphis Jews
were either Orthodox or Reform. For four generations Memphis Jews have either embraced or rejected pork barbecue in their food traditions.

But times are changing in Memphis, and these changes reveal a Jewish
middle ground and a new era of kosher barbecue. For the past thirteen years,
the "World's Only Kosher Barbecue Contest" has been held in Memphis,
sponsored by Orthodox congregation Anshei Sphard-Beth El Emeth. An
equally significant development is under way at Jewish-owned Corky's, one of
Memphis's most popular barbecue restaurants. Owners Barry and Don Pelts, longtime members of Reform congregation Temple Israel, are now selling a
kosher version of their popular barbecue sauce. (They sell over a million bottles of their nonkosher sauce annually.)

John Egerton discusses Southern barbecue styles in his book, Southern
Food, and quotes David Dawson's statement that pit barbecue in Memphis is
"that element which binds us into a community. Barbecue is a social cause,
something which gives meaning to our existence.... It is also a family affair,
a church function ... and in Memphis and west Tennessee, barbecue sometimes seems to take on the trappings of a state religion."

These sentiments toward barbecue and its importance within the community are clearly appreciated by Memphis Jews. They consider whether rejecting pork barbecue excludes them from the overall community. Or worse, does
rejection of the city's "culinary religion" make Memphis Jews sacrilegious?
Although the answer to both questions is technically "yes," white and black,
Jewish and Gentile Southerners understand the significance of religious
boundaries. Because Jews in the South have long been known by their Gentile
neighbors as "a people of the book," their unusual dietary restrictions have
been respected for generations.

Black and white Gentiles in Memphis not only acknowledge Jewish dietary
practices, they also support Jewish efforts to maintain kashrut. In observant
Jewish homes throughout the South, African American domestic workers
mastered the Jewish dietary laws, often better than their Jewish employers.
Memphian Fannie Kaplan recalls a conversation with Maggie McEwen, an
African American domestic worker from Mason, Tennessee, who came to
work for her family in the 1940s. "Where do you keep your milk things, your
meat things, your pareve things?" asked McEwen. "Why do you need to
know?" asked Kaplan. "This is going to be my kitchen, and I need to know,"
replied McEwen, who had learned kashrut from a previous Jewish employer.
Fannie Kaplan recalled Maggie McEwen's horror when Kaplan once attempted to put Crisco into a "meat" skillet using a "milk" spoon. The mistake
never happened again.

When observant Jewish peddlers traveled country roads outside cities such
as Memphis, farm families did their best to provide foods they could eat. The
best option was usually hard-boiled eggs, since even cooked vegetables were
flavored with pork. How to respect Jewish dietary laws in a region that consumed not just barbecue, but bacon, ham, lard, head meat, chitterlings, pig
feet, salt pork, fat back, side meat, white meat, pot likker, and pig ears was a
challenge. Joe Gray Taylor noted that "so long as he had pork, the Southerner
ate it every day and at nearly every meal."

A Jewish peddler in Perry County, Alabama, was invited to eat dinner with
a farm family. He hungrily consumed the roast pork and black-eyed peas
cooked with fatback and sopped up the remains of the pot likker with his lardenriched biscuit. The farmer's wife watched in amazement and said to the
peddler, "But, Mr. Schwarz, I thought that Moses forbid the children of Israel
from eating anything from the pig!" "My dear madam," replied Mr. Schwarz,
"if God had spoken to Moses in Perry County, Alabama, he would never have
issued such an edict!"

Memphis Jews, like their Gentile neighbors, longed for the camaraderie
that could only take place near a smoking barbecue pit or at a table laden with
a "mess of ribs" and sides of coleslaw, baked beans, and potato salad. And even
more tempting than community was the quest for that flavor of true Memphis
barbecue. Seeking both taste and community in 1988, the Jews of Anshei
Sphard-Beth El Emeth found it.

Melvin Katz has been interested in cooking on grills and smokers since the
late 1950s, when he first discovered this method of cooking while in the army
in El Paso, Texas. Katz brought this interest with him back to his native Memphis, where he and his Texas-born wife, Estaline, live today. Longtime members of Orthodox congregation Anshei Sphard-Beth El Emeth, they have
grown increasingly observant and today maintain a kosher home. Melvin's religious beliefs somewhat complicated his interest in barbecuing. His original
barrel smoker, constructed by his Texas father-in-law, did not satisfy the laws
of kashrut. Today, Melvin's collection of barbecue equipment has expanded to
include a fish grill, a fish smoker, a meat grill, a meat smoker, and a smoker exclusively for use at Passover.

After challenging the superiority of each others' smoked briskets for many
years, Melvin Katz and his friend Ira Weinstein decided it was time for a
kosher barbecue contest. In the late 198os, they approached the officials at the
Memphis in May Barbecue Cooking Contest about sponsoring a kosher event,
but the idea was never approved. The congregants at Anshei Sphard-Beth El
Emeth decided to go it on their own, and in 1988 the world's first kosher
barbecue contest was launched. In a traditional barbecue contest contestants
bring their own customized grills and smokers, secret sauces, spice mixes, and
meat purchased from their suppliers. Not so in a kosher competition. Officers
of the shul agreed to purchase barbecue pits for each team, and these pits remained the property of the shul for future contests. Each team pays the shul
one hundred dollars, for which they receive a slab of kosher beef ribs, a kosher
brisket, and a certified kosher grill to use for the contest. The team also receives other ingredients necessary for sauces, spice mixes, and marinades that are preapproved by the shul and then purchased by a volunteer at one of the
local kosher food purveyors. Contestants are allowed to use the shul kitchen
on the Thursday prior to the Sunday contest and are not allowed back in the
kitchen until after Shabbos on Saturday evening.

Of course, each team has their own special recipe. Melvin Katz's recipe
came from Rosie Niter, the African American wife of Robert Niter, a former
employee for the Katz's auto business. Knowing her reputation as a wonderful
cook, Katz asked Niter for help. "I need to know how to make a good barbecue sauce," said Katz. "That's no problem," said Niter. "I can show you." When
Niter showed up with Katz at the synagogue on the Thursday night prior to
the first contest, Katz's friends accused him of bringing in a "ringer." The
Niter/Katz sauce is a sweet hot sauce, flavored with garlic, lemon, and sugar.
He also makes up a spice rub of black pepper, garlic powder, cayenne, and
white vinegar that he rubs on the meat and then uses as a basting sauce during the smoking process.

Today, the contest has grown from ten to thirty teams and, like the Memphis in May competition, has its own corporate sponsor and celebrity judges.
Kroger's supermarket hosts the contest and supplies all the kosher ingredients,
including the meat. Past judges have included Corky's Barry Pelts and Nick
Vergos, son of Charlie Vergos, who founded the Rendezvous, a celebrated institution in Memphis barbecue history. Each team now receives two grills, one
for ribs and one for brisket, which are the two main categories for the contest.
Awards are also given for best team name. Memorable names include "The
Holy Smokers," the "Alte Cookers" ("alta cocker" is Yiddish for old man),
"Grillin n' Tefillin," the "Three Brisketeers," and "So Fine Bovine."