Karen and Ben Barker will be the guest speakers for Culinary Historians of Piedmont North Carolina from 7:30-8:30 p.m. Wednesday, April 17, at Flyleaf Books in Chapel Hill. A reception will precede the reading from 6:15 to 7:15 p.m. next door at Foster’s Market.

Jill Warren Lucas

There are many home bakers and professional chefs who aspire to be as creative Karen Barker. But now and then, the James Beard Award-winning pastry chef – who used to dazzle customers at the much-missed Magnolia Grill – finds herself in the position of a fan who just has to know how a certain treat was made.

“There is a great coffee place in the East Village of New York City that Ben and I really like called Abraco,” Barker says from the kitchen of the couple’s Chapel Hill home. “They make a sweet-savory black olive biscotti that is just delicious.”

Barker has made her share of biscotti; the twice-baked cookie can be made from a wide variety of ingredients (different flours and fats, with or without eggs) and endless flavor profiles. But there was something about this one that was especially memorable. 

“I’m not a big sugar person, so sweets don’t often excite me,” Barker says as she gathered ingredients on the heavy butcher block counter. “Once in Provence I saw someone make a dessert with black olive and tomatoes and herbs. But this was the first time I’d ever tasted a biscotti anything like that. I loved it.”

Barker was making a batch to bring to a meeting the next day of their dinner party club. Ben was prepping an appetizer of brined lamb tongue to be simmered with shallot in a red wine sauce. Karen was making the biscotti to provide a crunchy counterpoint to the final course, a dairy-free chocolate mousse served with a red Italian dessert wine.

“A savory cookie is not for everyone,” she concedes while giving the fragrant, purplish olives a quick mince and grinding a generous amount of black pepper into her mixer’s work bowl. “But dunk this into some wine, or scoop up some chocolate mousse … it’s just perfect.”

Barker says the recipe could be easily tweaked to substitute other ingredients: use lemon zest instead of orange, leave out the olives and add walnuts. “I wouldn’t try green olive, though,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “I just don’t think that would work.”

Barker leaves the end slices on the counter after she returns the cookies to the oven for their final toasting. “Baker’s privilege,” she says, nibbling a slice deemed not pretty enough to serve. She closes her eyes for a moment to let the flavors fill her mouth.

“I have to say, I find these pretty addictive,” she sighs. “I have a hard time just having one of them."



Karen Barker’s Olive Oil Biscotti with Rosemary and Orange

Makes 1 loaf (about 24 slices)

2/3 cup sugar
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
2 eggs
1½ cups all-purpose flour
2/3 cup semolina (fine grind)
2 tsp. baking powder
½ tsp. salt
1 tsbp. minced rosemary
zest of 1 orange
1/3 cup fine chopped black olives (such as kalamata)
a few grinds of black pepper

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Combine first three ingredients in the work bowl of mixer; combine well with paddle attachment.

Add remaining ingredients, mix again. Ensure that all ingredients are thoroughly blended but avoid overworking the dough, which will be sticky.

Transfer dough with floured hands to a rimmed baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Lightly press into the shape of a 12x3-inch log, adding pinches of flour if needed. Chill for at least 40 minutes but preferably about several hours.

Bake for 30 minutes or until loaf is lightly browned. Remove from oven. When cool enough to handle, use a serrated knife and cut half-inch slices on the diagonal; should yield about 24 pieces. Arrange flat on the baking pan - it's OK if they are crowded - and return to oven until toasted, about 5-7 minutes. Turn slices over and toast again, about 3-4 minutes, until golden and crisp on both sides.

Cool biscotti completely. Wrap in parchment paper or keep in airtight container.

Audra Ang will speak and sign her new book, To the People, Food Is Heaven: Stories of Food and Life in Contemporary China at Flyleaf Books Wednesday January 16, 2013, 7:00 pm - 8:30 pm

By Jill Warren Lucas

Like Dorothy on her journey to Oz, Audra Ang had an opportunity to travel far from her comfort zone to experience a world in which she had connections but felt like a stranger. The environment she experienced was just as bizarre in its extremes of hospitality and threat, and it took a long journey home to fully understand it.

Ang chronicles the seven years she spent in China as an Associated Press reporter in her compelling new memoir, To the People, Food Is Heaven: Stories of Food and Life in a Changing China (Lyons Press, 2012). She will talk about her experiences - which vary from savoring home cooked meals and reporting about dissidents to spending weeks amid the heartbreaking rubble of the 2008 Sichuan earthquake - at Wednesday’s meeting of Culinary Historians of Piedmont North Carolina (CHOP NC). The free talk gets under way at 7 p.m. at Flyleaf Books in Chapel Hill, where she will sign copies of the book.

For one of her last assignments in China, before she returned to accept a prestigious Neiman Fellowship at Harvard, Ang was asked to write a story that would reflect the span of her tenure. “I came up with a few ideas that were all shot down,” recalls Ang, who recently located to Durham and works at Duke University. “I decided to just write what I wanted to write about, which was food.”

Ang realized that having food, and especially not having food, played a role in most of the reports she filed while abroad. It may have started with the novelty of a foodstuff not often consumed in America, but she quickly came to appreciate the satisfying burn of sweat-inducing spice and, later, the calming aroma of a hot meal amid sickening decay.

“I wrote four vignettes involving food, but I always felt there was so much more to the story,” Ang says. “The article always felt unfinished to me. It was the one thing I felt strongly enough to commit to the need to turn it into a book.”

Ang traveled from Boston to Berkeley to focus on the yearlong project. “It was the most emotionally difficult thing I’ve ever done,” she says, explaining that she retreated to a cottage where she would write all night, sleep from morning to afternoon, then start again.

She did not return to China during this period and instead relied on her reporter’s notebooks and thousands of collected photographs. They were especially valuable in drafting the difficult final chapter about the catastrophic earthquake. The 7.9 temblor provoked global outrage when reporters revealed that thousands of children needlessly died in the wreckage of poorly-built schools.

“The last chapter is my favorite, but I sometimes worry that it’s too intense,” says Ang, who details unfathomable horrors in a restrained tone that nonetheless makes a reader’s heart race. Woven throughout is the importance of food as more than mere nutrient.

 “Food is a very central part of life in China. Indirectly, I think cooking and receiving food did help people to heal,” she says. She tells the story of a mother and her critically injured son, who at first refused to eat but eventually asked for his favorite meal of Kentucky Fried Chicken. “She knew it meant that he was getting better. It fills a bit of the emptiness you feel after so much loss.”

Ang’s own initial connection to the earthquake has a link to food. She and a photographer were having lunch hundreds of miles away when they felt the restaurant suddenly rock. They had been reporting about babies who died from ingesting counterfeit formula, but it turned out they were closer to the epicenter than other colleagues. Ang manages to condense their harrowing journey, and the extraordinary weeks that follow, in 46 mesmerizing pages.

Ang is taking a break from such intense writing and is unsure if she wants to return journalism, though friends predict she will.

“Right now, I’m pretty happy to have a relaxed, stable, boring life,” she says with a laugh. “I have a good job in a wonderful city. I am excited and grateful that’s there is so much great food in one area.”

While glad to have found delicious Chinese and Vietnamese fare close by, Ang says she is especially enjoying her exploration of Southern cuisine. She finds contentment in a place that celebrates both traditional foods and cutting-edge cooks.

 “Food is a big part of living in the South, too,” she says. “I’ve found that it usually it takes a year to settle into a place, but I’ve met great such people, including people who are very involved in the local food scene. I can see myself being happy here for a long time.”

Jill Warren Lucas is the managing editor of Philanthropy Journal. She blogs about food at Eating My Words and freelances for Indy Week.

‘Foodsteps’ from slavery to the rise of Southern cuisine

By Jill Warren Lucas

There are those who say that talk of politics and equality have no place at the table. But for culinary historian Michael Twitty, that’s where the conversation begins.

“The table definitely is the starting point to be more honest with each other and express how we feel about our location and our past,” said Twitty, who will launch his Southern Discomfort Tour with a free talk at 6:30 p.m. Thursday, June 7th, at Flyleaf Books in Chapel Hill. His topic, “‘Them Old Slavery Foods’: Liberating a Cuisine in Chains in Antebellum North Carolina”, is co-presented by Culinary Historians of Piedmont North Carolina (CHOP NC) and the Southern Historical Collection at UNC Chapel Hill.

“Whether we like it or not, those of us who study African American foodways face a social-political landscape every day,” he said. “Food helps us define our identity and sense of direction. It preserves a shared timelessness. “

An outcome of slavery, he added, “is that Africans and African Americans, who were marginalized groups, made important and often overlooked contributions to Southern and American cuisine. These are important economic and cultural facts.”

Twitty will document his travels to places where his ancestors were enslaved, “...as well as places of cultural memory related to slavery and the development and history of Southern cuisine,” on his blog, The Cooking Gene.  He also tweets at @koshersoul.

As stated on The Cooking Gene website: “We are attempting to dialogue with the white families who owned my family - some of whom I am related to by blood - using food as the medium of communication and discourse. We are looking at the development of African American foodways from Africa to America and from the colonial South to the antebellum and postbellum South using my family tree and family geography if you will as a guide. We’re calling that connection ‘foodsteps’ instead of footsteps to describe those edible connections to the landscape and time.”

Twitty will experience that landscape in a very personal way later this week when he ventures east to walk the Halifax County fields that once were the property of his great-great-great-grandfather Richard Henry Bellamy, a slave owner. (black and white photograph above)

Born in 1829 as the son of European immigrants, Bellamy was raised to enjoy privileges unfamiliar to the mixed-race offspring he and other well-to-do landowners sired and left behind to be raised, often malnourished, in surrounding communities. Here and in other places where the rambling roots of his family tree survive, Twitty believes he will find living blood relatives.

“I’ve reached out to people who say I can walk the land to see what he saw,” Twitty said. “He led a remarkable life, especially for the time. He was a decorated Confederate captain. He was a graduate of law school from the University of Georgia. He got to be a legislator in Texas.”

Bellamy’s biracial children, by contrast, never travelled further than they could walk. “They didn’t go to school. They weren’t special,” Twitty said. “It wasn’t until they had grandchildren that anyone thought to leave the blinding poverty of the South to go north. It’s a reality that’s part of so many stories.”

Twitty is eager to track kin and find clues to their lives through culinary records, but not all of his living relations and friends entirely understand his quest. 

“Some people think this whole project is very strange,” he admitted with a laugh. “People expect me to go to the slave quarters and eat what they ate to learn who I am. By studying Southern-African foodways, my goal is to better understand where I come from. It brings a whole new meaning to ‘Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner’.”

Twitty’s travels will take him on a circuitous route from his base in Washington, D.C., to big and small Southern towns that cousins many times removed once called home. To make that possible, a diverse group of sponsors from across the country, but especially in the South, united to support his online fundraising effort. It came down to the wire, but Twitty eventually surpassed his $8,000 goal.

“I am emotionally and spiritually moved by the fact that so many people who do not know me personally gave their money and their time to get the word out,” he said. “It was awkward for me to ask, but it’s all about goodwill and love and vision.”

While Twitty, a devout Jew, is not likely to indulge in all that Eastern North Carolina may heap on a dinner plate, he is eager to experience foods and traditions that with were known to his forebears or are common to his surviving relatives. 

(Mr. Twitty’s fried chicken in progress)

“One of my fantasies is to find as receipt book, a sort of recipe collection, from my great-great-great grandfather’s line – maybe a cousin who had a copy of The Virginia House-Wife,” he said, referring to the 1825 guide that became the most influential cookbook of its time. “It would be a sort of Who Do You Think You Are moment, a connection I do not have to any of my black ancestors.”

Twitty has discussed DNA testing with a few family contacts and hopes to broach the subject with others. 

“It is a lot to ask, but with their help I hope to peel back the layers to reveal truth,” he said. “For a lot of African Americans, knowing if you came from West or Central Africa, or the Caribbean, is powerful. When they realize that we can help each other by doing this, and that so many supporters have donated money to make it happen, they see how important it is.”

Speaking just hours from the start of his great odyssey, Twitty expressed deep appreciation for his advocates and excitement about how the next few weeks will change his life.

 “I have extreme roller coaster emotions,” he said. “There’s one thing in particular that comes to me. One of my grandmother’s brothers died when he was very young. The only thing I know about this young man is that his favorite breakfast was fried baloney, cinnamon toast and orange juice.

“I guarantee you I am the only person who ever thinks about this particular person, but that is part of his immortality,” he said. “By writing down what I learn about my family and our foodways, I hope to preserve it in my own small way.”


Jill Warren Lucas blogs at "Eating My Words". 

John Shelton Reed will be the guest speaker of Culinary Historians of Piedmont North Carolina at 7 p.m. Wednesday at Flyleaf Books in Chapel Hill.

By Jill Warren Lucas

Six years after John Shelton Reed wrote the definitive book on North Carolina barbecue, he’s been asked to produce an encore.

“I’m not sure the world needs another book on barbecue, but UNC Press wants to include barbecue in its series on Southern food, so I’m happy to do it,” said Shelton, author of Holy Smoke: The Big Book of North Carolina Barbecue (UNC Press, 2008).  He wrote the critically acclaimed volume with his wife, Dale Volberg Reed, and colleague William McKinney.

The as-yet untitled follow-up book probably won’t be published until 2014, but Reed said he’s already decided on most of the side dishes and is making plans to test several new recipes in his new toy.

A few months ago, Reed recalled during a call from his Chapel Hill home, he attended a barbecue at Craig Rogers’ Border Springs Farms in Virginia, which is renowned for its lamb. Reed was duly impressed with the quality of the meat, but riding home all he could think about was Rogers’ impressive Viking cooker.

“I’ve got to admit, I coveted it,” Reed said with a laugh. “I came home and checked on eBay, where I found one for half price. I could hardly believe it.”

The impulse purchase of this 455-pound shrine to smoking might get some people in hot water, but Reed is fortunate to have a spouse who is equally crazy about traditional barbecue.

“I am lucky, and we love to cook for friends,” he said. “Of course, I had to put in a pad for it to sit on, so it turned out to be pretty expensive after all, but it works like a charm. Better than I deserve.”

If anyone deserves a state-of-the-art smoker, surely it’s the man who has dedicated much of his professional career to documenting and promoting the labor-intensive efforts of authentic pit masters.

Reed has unabashed admiration for those who continue to cook barbecue the traditional way: low and slow with plenty of wood smoke. He’s likewise dismissive of old stalwarts who have quit cooking with wood, some of whom appear to have committed the ultimate barbecue crime of trying to replace hard-earned flavor with Liquid Smoke.

He considers Keith Allen of Allen & Son in Chapel Hill a prime example of a purist who provides diners with a true Southern barbecue experience.

“He gets up and starts cooking at 3:30 every morning so he can feed people lunch,” Reed said. “There aren’t many left that still do that because it’s very hard work.”

Reed gets a bit irritated at those who balk at paying a fair price that reflects both the hours of labor and cost of quality meat. At Wilber’s in Goldsboro, he said, “You can get a barbecue sandwich that cooked all night long and costs no more than a Big Mac. It’s crazy that they have to compete with guys who use a set-it-and-forget-it cooking method. People have got to charge right or they’ll go out of business.

“There I go. Up on my soap box,” he added with a wry chuckle. “I just hate the idea of losing the old classics. There’s a great working-class tradition that is at risk.”

Much like the recipes in Holy Smoke!, Reed’s next book will feature dishes perfected by barbecue greats but focus primarily on traditions that make Southern barbecue unique from one region to the next. He looks forward to cooking some meats he’s never smoked before, especially goat, but draws a clear line that will not be crossed. For example, to be truly inclusive, he’ll include a recipe from a reliable Missouri colleague for barbecued pig snout – but he has no desire to try it.

“I understand it comes out looking something like a dog’s chew toy and doesn’t taste much better,” he said. “Anything that needs to be hidden under a lot of sauce is something I can do without.”

He will apply similar common sense – and a computer spreadsheet – to “construct” a Kansas City barbecue sauce. After all, he has considerable experience consuming the stuff, as well as a vast library of barbecue books.

“I confess: I’ll lay them out and determine what they have in common and what’s just off the wall,” he said. “It won’t be innovative. That’s not the point. I’ll write about what makes something classic, how it evolved and how it’s different from what’s done in other regions.”

Reed is sympathetic to those who righteously believe that Tar Heel barbecue is the best. “In North Carolina, barbecue is kind of like college basketball. Even if you’re not interested in it, you pretend to be.
“If someone asks your preference,” he advised, meaning Eastern vinegar-style or Piedmont tomato-based ‘cue, “you’ve got to have one. It doesn’t entirely matter which, but you’ve got to have a stand.”

Lucas blogs at Eating My Words. Follow her at @jwlucasnc.file://localhost/Users/nanciemac/Desktop/allen3.jpg