.
Smiling, he would slowly pour the sour pale-yellow
liquid into our tallest glass
then pinch golden chunks of the still-oven-warm
wedges into it until brimming.
—From the poem “Cornbread in Buttermilk,”
by
Michael McFee, featured in Cornbread Nation 4
.
Letter from the President
As a scholar of food, I often find myself defending why it is important to study food. In spite of front page news and Internet stories that deal with international food shortages, genetically modified crops, and food scares like the recent tomato crisis, the study of food is still viewed with some skepticism in the academy.
How does the study of food contribute to the quest for greater knowledge within the academy? What new theories or analytical interpretations can be gained from the study of food? Food provides a more nuanced reading of the texture of daily life in the past, but is that all there is? I call these the “so what?” questions.
Because my academic home is the field of American Studies, my answer to this question lies in the relationship between food and the construction of regional and national identity, which has much to do with the concept of difference. How can we understand our own experience without contrasting it to the experience of others? Boundaries are critical to identity formation.
As an imagined community of Southerners, whether at an SFA symposium or at home, we define who we are, in part, by the foods we eat and those we don’t. By studying five major cultural processes associated with food—production, regulation, representation, identity, and consumption—we can better understand our historical experience as Americans and as Southerners. Food reflects both our national and regional culture as surely as do the fields of art, folklore, geography, history, literature, music, politics, and
religion.
The problem with the study of food—and the challenge for the Southern Foodways Alliance—is food itself. If only food were more arcane, less accessible, less popular, not so sensual or comforting, even divisive, its study would surely find a place in the hallowed halls of the academy. I keep my fingers crossed that one day soon we will establish a named professorship in Southern Foodways at the University of Mississippi—a critical step in the evolution of the Southern Foodways Alliance.
The “so what?” question is the wrong question. The real question is about the “small things forgotten,” the detail, the texture of everyday life—pigs smoked, oysters shucked, tamales shaped, cakes baked, cocktails stirred, the foods shared at a common table—tell us about who we are, where we come from, and where we’re going.
My family suffered a terrible loss this year—my dear brother-in-law, Grey Ferris, died in the early summer after a long fight with cancer. We went back to my husband Bill’s home in Vicksburg, Mississippi, to be with family and to attend Grey’s funeral.
As family and friends gathered, food arrived in an elaborate display of community organization and love. Emily Compton and her daughter, Danny, brought homemade Vicksburg tomato sandwiches, stuffed eggs, tomato aspic, and a beautiful congealed salad of brandied peaches and ginger that glistened like amber. Each night, Bobby Ferguson, a talented carpenter and friend of the family, came by with a casserole prepared by his wife, Elaine, who told us, “I just made what my family loves.”
There were stiff drinks of bourbon enjoyed with cheese straws, platters of fried chicken and pulled pork, and delicacies brought from New Orleans by Grey’s mother-in-law, Mittie Terral, whose weekly visits from Louisiana revived the family with her gumbos and étouffée. Dr. Eddie Lipscomb, a veterinarian from nearby Port Gibson, brought a pecan-smoked brisket he had lovingly prepared for the family. There were strawberry cakes, blueberry pound cakes, caramel cakes, and double fudge brownies baked by Mary Bell Gibbs—whose mother was famous for her brownies, too.
While we attended Grey’s funeral in town, Story Stamm Ebersole, a talented Vicksburg caterer, laid out supper for the family—platters of Mrs. Compton’s tomato sandwiches and big bowls of chicken salad. Food never tasted as good as at that meal. We ate and drank in small groups and later gathered in a large circle around Bill and Grey’s mother, Shelby Ferris, telling family stories until late in the night. If ever there was an answer to the “so what?” of why we study food, the answer lay in the food served that week and how it poignantly expressed Southern community, memory, and tradition.
My term as president of the SFA board will end at the fall symposium, and I am honored to turn the gavel over to Angie Mosier, who brings great passion, vision, and creativity to the
organization. For their dedication and tireless efforts on our behalf, I want to express my gratitude to SFA staff—John T Edge, Amy Evans, Melissa Hall, Mary Beth Lasseter, and Joe York; to the staff at the Center for the Study of Southern Culture at the University of Mississippi—Ann Abadie, Mary Hartwell Howorth, Ted Ownby, Charles Wilson; as well as to Gloria Kellum, Vice Chancellor for University Relations.
The SFA has grown dramatically in the last two years, and our talented board of directors has devoted untold hours to strengthening our institution. Lastly, I want to thank the members of the SFA. I feel especially privileged to have worked with each of you over the past two years as your president.
MARCIE COHEN FERRIS
UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA
AT CHAPEL HILL
.
