Wednesday, August 14th

Food Ritual

This week marks the twenty-fifth anniversary of Elvis Presley's death. The reason I bring that up is because Elvis loved food, particularly Southern food: barbecue. Grits. Ham cooked in Coca-Cola. Collard greens. Dirty rice. Fried catfish. Fried chicken. Chicken-fried steak. Banana pudding. You get the idea.

I too love Southern food, and even in this reduced-fat no-sugar french-fries-give-you-cancer climate, I am not afraid to admit it. This is something Elvis and I would've had in common. That might be about it, in fact, since I am loath to wear rhinestone-encrusted pantsuits (so much for a relationship with Neil Diamond, come to think of it) or wallpaper a room in red shag carpet.

As I thought about it, though, I started to be amazed how little some food patterns have changed. Unlike Elvis, I cannot eat fifteen peanut-butter-and-banana sandwiches fried in butter at a sitting. Actually, I've never even tried eating one. I especially have not tried his rumored variation on his favorite sandwich, which included not only Skippy and banana but also bacon and mayonnaise tucked between the Wonder. However, I have eaten plenty of barbecue and banana pudding in my lifetime; though I was only two when Elvis died, I have eaten my share of dirty rice and chicken-fried steak as well. Has all the research about fat and high-carb diets and red meat made any headway at all in the South?

I decided to do some research on this issue by turning not to the Center for Science in the Public Interest, but to Southern Living magazine. For generations of Southern women, Southern Living has arbited the good part of being Southern: lovely homes with big porches, huge gardens, beautiful babies and gigantic weddings. Needless to say, a huge part of the appeal of the magazine is the third or so of it devoted to recipes and food tips.

Flipping through a recent issue, I found recipes for smoked prime rib, tuna "amandine" in aspic, fried corn with bacon, cream cheese and half-and-half, and a variation on that fifties classic, frozen fruit salad. I kid you not. I was astounded. For some reason I had assumed that either Southern Living had updated and lightened its recipes, or that it published classic GOOD ones every month. This seems not to be the case at all. According to Southern Living, people are still cooking with cream of mushroom soup and bacon fat every night of the week!

Intrigued, I went to my local book superstore to peruse the cookbook shelves. It was no problem finding the Southern cookbooks; they were all lumped together and took up three shelves, if you counted the mostly Southern Junior League collection at the end of the last shelf. I counted more than a few cookbooks that I already own (A Gracious Plenty, by John T. Edge; Southern Food by John Egerton; Come On In!: Recipes of the Junior League of Jackson, Mississippi) and several that I wanted to acquire. All of them, and I mean ALL of them, offered variations on classic Southern dishes that were not in the least bit conscious of today's supposed healthful mindset or of the fact that most adults work full-time and therefore don't actually spend each day between the garden and the kitchen.

I think you can draw two conclusions from all this. The first one is that people simply don't heed scientists' findings the way we should. This is evidenced by the fact that America grows ever fatter.

Secondly, and I think more importantly, is that no matter how "global" we become, people cling to the foodways of their region. Since I am from the South, it is easiest for me to see there, but I have the distinct feeling that everyone feels that way; everyone wants to eat something that tastes like what their mothers or grandmothers used to make (try the peach cobbler recipe to the right of your screen, if you want to make something my mom used to make). Familiar food is comforting, and that's all there is to it. It also helps to define your world, and make it a little bit smaller.

As for Elvis, his estate runs a restaurant in Memphis now which supposedly bases its menus on his favorite foods. The chicken-fried steak, meatloaf, mashed potatoes and pecan-crusted catfish I can believe, but somehow I doubt that Elvis ever ate a grilled portobello mushroom sandwich, or "Thai chicken salad." My only conclusion is that the restaurant must be catering not to the locals, but to the tourists.