In “A Tale of Two Laredos,” Gravy producer Evan Stern visits Laredo, Texas, which shares history, culture, and memory with its sister city across the border, Nuevo Laredo. For decades, Mexican border towns were renowned for refined, white tablecloth restaurants where jacketed waiters served a café society that transcended international boundaries. Among the most celebrated was Nuevo Laredo’s Cadillac Bar, which opened in 1926 and grew famous for delicacies such as frog legs and Ramos Gin Fizzes until it was forced to close in 2010.  Chosen for its location on the river we now call the Rio Grande, Don Tomas Sanchez established Laredo as a ferry crossing in 1755. After the Mexican-American war of the mid-19th century, the land was ceded to the U.S. Some long-time residents moved across the river into Mexican territory and founded Nuevo Laredo, while others remained in what became Texas. Laredo has evolved into a bustling and fast growing center of trade that’s now the largest inland port in the United States. Yet the border has hardened in ways that have vastly altered these neighboring cities’ social dynamics. On the American side, 9/11 spurred a wave of counterterrorism and immigration policies that have slowed the process of entry. In Mexico, the 2003 arrest of cartel leader Osiel Cardenas Guillen spurred a protracted turf war amongst rival factions for control of Nuevo Laredo’s prized point of entry. March of 2022 saw gunmen fire shots at the American consulate, whose workers are forced to adhere to curfews and movement restrictions. The US State Department advises against travel there altogether. For Laredoans, movement across the border into Nuevo Laredo—once a part of daily life—has all but ceased. In Laredo, Stern searches for traces of the Cadillac Bar’s influence on the American side. He hears memories from native residents including Elsa Rodriguez, who shares firsthand how the border’s hardening has altered the region’s cultural fabric. He also visits with Margarita Araiza, chair of the Webb County Heritage Foundation, who discusses how Laredo and Nuevo Laredo were founded as one city in the 1700s and remain inextricably linked. Newspaper veteran and longtime journalism professor Wanda Garner Cash tells of her grandfather, Mayo Bessan, who, sensing business opportunity, fled Prohibition Era-New Orleans to open the Cadillac Bar with gambling winnings.  Stern also gets a taste of Laredo’s current dining scene through a visit to the Border Foundry, whose owner Pete Mims once hosted a dinner that featured a tasting menu entirely comprised of recipes from the Cadillac. Also on hand to mix an award-winning cocktail is Cesar “Cheese” Martinez, manager of the new Bar Nido, who was named Best Bartender by readers of the Laredo Morning Times.   

A Tale of Two Laredos

In “A Texas Cabrito Communion,” Gravy producer Evan Stern invites us to ride along as he joins the Avila and Aguirre families for a celebratory reunion and cabrito cookout at their YY Ranch, which sits below the Nueces River in Texas. The river once served as the boundary between Texas and the Mexican states of Coahuila and Tamaulipas, and some advocate for viewing this region and Northern Mexico as a singular landscape, united by shared terroir and culture. As a beloved delicacy enjoyed on both sides of the Rio Grande, cabrito—a roasted baby goat nourished strictly on a diet of mother’s milk—brings this philosophy to life. As Mundo and Luz Aguirre, a couple who have driven in from Monterrey, prepare the feast, Stern explores how this dish that’s now a staple of Easter celebrations was brought to the New World by Spanish Sephardic Jewish shepherds. Faced with the Inquisition’s policies of forced Catholic conversion, they turned to goat as a staple to maintain kosher practice in secret. Eventually, in the sixteenth century, many of these secret adherents began making their way to Mexico. Stern considers issues surrounding cabrito’s ties to colonial history and ethics through a conversation with noted chef and historian Adan Medrano, who grew up traveling between San Antonio and his father’s birthplace of Nava, Coahuila.  Stern also meets Olmito-based educators and musicians Rosa Canales and Joe Perez, who share early memories of cabrito, which was viewed as “prize” in their Texas hometowns of Premont and Hebbronville. Rosa shares her love of machito, which some call Texas haggis, made from goat innards, while Houston-based chef Sylvia Casares discusses her choice to serve cabrito enchiladas at Sylvia’s Enchilada Kitchen in Houston. She also shares some of the barriers that restaurant owners face in featuring cabrito on menus.  Concluding with a round of beers by a crackling fire, the voices of Refugio “Cuquin” Aguirre and Peter and Joe Avila reveal how cross-border connections reveal themselves not only in the cooking and sharing of cabrito, but in their family gatherings.

A Texas Cabrito Communion

In “Blessed Egg Rolls and the Evolution of Rockport, Texas,” Gravy producer Evan Stern takes listeners to the small town of Rockport, Texas, which hugs the shores of Aransas Bay on the state’s Gulf Coast, about 35 miles northeast of Corpus Christi. There, he visits Saint Peter’s Catholic Church, founded by Vietnamese arrivals in the early 1980s, and whose congregants host a monthly fundraiser selling such dishes as bun, egg rolls, and shrimp.  Following the collapse of Saigon, in the aftermath of the Vietnam War, hundreds of thousands of Vietnamese, Laotians, and Cambodians fled the Indochinese Peninsula to seek refuge in the United States. While a great many of these people famously resettled and established enclaves in cities like Houston and New Orleans, seeking work in fishing and shrimping, others moved to and impacted smaller, less diverse communities on the Gulf Coast. For Gravy, Stern explores the challenges of resettlement and this community’s evolution. We hear from congregants including Trang Kelsey, who found comfort in Rockport’s oysters and fish that reminded her of her home island, Phu Quoc. Lyly Nguyen shares how the popularity of her family’s cooking among Rockport High’s football team—pho, lo mein, egg rolls—inspired them to open the successful restaurant, Hu Dat, which now claims three locations in Texas.  Stern also examines the racial tensions following this mass migration. Noted environmentalist and fourth-generation fisherwoman Diane Wilson, who lives and works up the coast in the town of Seadrift, remembers how misunderstandings between residents and newcomers over misplaced crab lines and unspoken rules gave rise to conflict. Lyly Nguyen recalls harassment and violence following a 1979 territorial dispute that kept her home from school for a week.  Finally, Stern speaks to Julie La Pam, a shrimper in Aransas Bay; seafood market owner Flower Bui; Saint Peter’s choir director Tam Nguyen; and Father Tung Tran. All proudly call Rockport home and remind us that churches—and communities, and towns, and cities, and nations—are made of people before brick and mortar.  

Blessed Egg Rolls and the Evolution of Rockport, Texas

In “A Taste of Sicily on Galveston Bay,” Gravy producer Evan Stern takes listeners to Galveston, Texas. Once perhaps the greatest town of significance between New Orleans and San Francisco, today its population doesn’t even crack the top fifty of Texas cities. But while Austin is often referred to as a small town with growing pains, some say Galveston is really a big city disguised as a small town. Much of this is owed to its immigrant history, as its port provided a point of entry for over 750,000 newcomers from its opening in the 1830s, until the early 1920s.  Settled by a French pirate and officially incorporated in 1839, Galveston essentially sits on a sandbar that straddles its namesake bay and the Gulf of Mexico. The cotton trade gave rise to a prosperous, cosmopolitan center that enjoyed a trade monopoly as a gateway to Texas before the dredging of Houston’s safer, more accessible inland channel. Galveston briefly rivaled San Francisco as a destination for Gilded Age tycoons. And as a growing city in need of masons, maids, and tradesmen, it proved a desirable terminus for immigrants: Germans, Russian Jews, Poles, Czechs, Italians and Sicilians.  While thousands of these new arrivals continued to destinations further inland, many chose to plant roots in Galveston. Among the numerous groups who established new homes here was a sizable population of Italians and Sicilians, who eventually established a foothold on the island working as small grocers. In this episode of Gravy, Stern searches for evidence of this history through visits with the owners of such island institutions as Sonny’s Place and Maceo Spice, whose connections to the old country remain evidenced through their menus. He also chats with Al Tropea, who grew up helping his parents make sausage at Tropea’s Grocery, and author Ellen Beasley, who documented stores like theirs in the 1970s. The result is a rich tapestry of stories and voices, representative of a flavorful side of this most unique city on the Gulf Coast.

A Taste of Sicily on Galveston Bay

In “Noodling with the Texas Wends,” Gravy producer Evan Stern takes us to the small, Central Texas town of Serbin, which was last included in the Census more than 20 years ago, when the population was only 37. But its sign still proudly announces itself as the “Home of the Texas Wends”—and the locals take their noodles seriously.  An ethnic minority, primarily concentrated in the region of Lusatia—which sits just between Germany and Poland—for generations the Wends wrestled with wars, poverty, and discrimination. Those troubles only escalated after they embraced confessional Lutheranism. By the 1840s, after King Wilhelm III merged non-Catholic faiths into a single, state-regulated body, many began looking abroad. One group of 35 decamped to Texas, and a decade later, around 600 followed. From Galveston, settlers made their way to present-day Lee County, where they named their new community Serbin.  Those early immigrants constituted the largest single Wendish migration to America, but Serbin’s population has since dwindled as residents scattered to nearby towns. On the last Sunday in September, however, the town comes alive when nearly 2,000 descendants, friends, and family convene for Wendish Fest, a celebration of all things Wendish: beer, coffee cake, and, of course, noodles.  Noodles are a staple of Wendish tables, from Sunday night dinners to weddings and other special occasions. In Serbin, families have been making them by hand for generations. Stern listens and looks on as the Wends he meets mix dough, roll noodles, and boil them in chicken broth to be enjoyed as a side dish with sausage and sauerkraut. And he learns that beyond sustaining the belly, these noodles have helped sustain an entire identity.  In this episode, Stern speaks to Serbin resident Jack Wiederhold, along with Becky Weise, Evelyn Bucchorn, and Mike Moss, who make and cook noodles for Wendish Fest. He also interviews the “Noodle Sisters”—including Mildred Perry, Judy Boriack, and Marian Wiederhold—who gather each week to make noodles in Serbin’s Wendish Heritage Museum. Finally, Richard Gruetzner, President of the Texas Wendish Heritage Society, tells of a group of women in the 1970s who worked to keep Wendish culture—and cooking—alive. Featured Music Jack Wiederhold on organThe Shiner Hobo Band Recorded live at Wendish Fest For more information, visit www.texaswendish.org www.weisefarms.comwww.vanishingpostcards.com

Noodling with the Texas Wends

In “The Gulf’s Last Generation of Black Oystermen?” Gravy producer Kayla Stewart takes listeners to south Louisiana, where Black men have played a key role in the region’s oyster industry—and where today, they are few and far between. Stewart speaks to one of the area’s last Black oystermen about how we got here, and what this means for the future of south Louisiana’s oystering culture.  Black men have played a key role in Louisiana's oyster industry since the 18th century. During enslavement, they would oyster for their slave owners, and those white slave owners kept the profits from their hard work. After enslavement, Black men in Louisiana and across the South continued to play a key role in the industry. But some of their white counterparts, feeling threatened by the new competition, took steps to limit their success. They implemented laws supposedly set to protect the environment and created a more industrialized industry that requires new, expensive equipment. Over time, it became increasingly difficult for Black men to make a living in the industry.  Many still found ways to survive and thrive, such as Byron Encalade, who has spent his professional life on the water. A resident of Belle Chasse, a town a little over an hour from New Orleans, he descends from a long line of Black men who oystered for a living. Encalade has raised several children, been an active community member, ran his own business—Encalade Fisheries—and even taught his nephews the oystering trade. But today, Byron says that his generation is likely the last generation of Black oystermen to maintain a dominant presence in Louisiana's oystering industry. Issues like racism, rising costs, and environmental challenges have plagued the industry in the last decade, making it nearly impossible for Black men to continue working in the field. In this Gravy episode, Stewart speaks to Encalade about the changes he has seen over the course of his career, and the legacy and knowledge lost when Black men lose access to the oyster industry. Imani Black, founder and CEO of the nonprofit organization Minorities in Aquaculture, discusses the historical involvement and participation of African Americans in commercial fisheries, and how racist practices—from pricing to technological change and access to funding—have kept Black people from participating. Finally, Stewart interviews Katrina Williams, a special programs coordinator at Coastal Community Consulting, a nonprofit designed to assist Louisiana’s fishermen. Together, they explore what it means if Encalade and his peers are the last group of oystermen on Louisiana’s coast.

The Gulf’s Last Generation of Black Oystermen?

“Buying and Selling Food in the Black South” is the fourth installment in reporter Kayla Stewart’s 2022 Gravy podcast season, where she explores Black foodways in the South and beyond. For this episode, she speaks to Black business owners who are trying to improve food access in Black communities. Stewart explores the history of Black-owned grocery stores and shops, and why these institutions matter in Black communities.  For centuries, Black Americans have been finding their own ways to feed themselves and their communities. From farms, to grocery stores, to corner store establishments, Black folks in the south have created their own ways to gain access to fresh food, demonstrating that one size doesn’t fit all. Christopher Williams is the chef and owner of Lucille’s in Houston, and founder of the nonprofit Lucille’s 1913, which aims to combat food insecurity in underserved communities. In the summer of 2022, he opened Bates Allen Farm in the primarily African American community of Kendleton, Texas. The farm’s mission is twofold: making fresh food more accessible, and resurrecting a farming tradition that had previously sustained the community.  Chris is part of a growing number of Black American culinary leaders looking for ways to provide fruits and vegetables to Black people located in food deserts—low-income areas where a large number of residents lacks easy access to high-quality, fresh food. In Philadelphia, PA, Farmerjawn Community Greenhouses is known for its produce offerings, and at Black Market Kentucky grocers sell healthy food to combat food apartheid. In April 2022, Christa Williams opened Uncle Willie’s Grocery Store in Columbia, South Carolina. She wanted to bring quality food access to her Black community in the historic Elmwood-Cottontown area, a community that’s been historically underserved. Christa’s vision for the store was rooted in community, like the neighborhood groceries that used to be common in Black communities. While Black Americans make up about 40 percent of Columbia's population, there aren’t many Black-owned businesses. Christa says that for that reason, her store has been a source of pride for the Black people in the city. Here, Stewart interviews Chris Williams and Christa Williams about their respective projects, exploring different approaches to the question of food access. She also speaks with Dr. Psyche Williams-Forson, Professor and Chair of the Department of American Studies at the University of Maryland College Park. Williams-Forson has written extensively about Black food and identity, most recently Eating While Black: Food Shaming and Race in America, which examines the history of food shaming in Black communities. She delves into the history of Black grocery stores, emphasizing the importance of respect for people’s personal choices. Leaning into lessons from the past and having hope for a better future that makes a range of food options more accessible to Black communiti

Buying and Selling Food in the Black South

In the episode “In Houston, Three Tastes of West Africa,” Gravy producer Kayla Stewart takes listeners to her hometown of Houston, Texas, which boasts one of the most vibrant international food scenes in the country. It’s a city where Black Americans have built their own communities and pathways to success, and where diversity is prized. It’s also where West African immigrants—from Ghana, Senegal, Nigeria, and beyond—have created their own stories, including through food.  To find out why Houston is the center of this West African renaissance, Stewart starts at Safari restaurant, which Margaret and Hector Ukegbu opened in the 1990s. Safari helped appease the homesickness many Nigerians felt when they first arrived in the United States in the late 20th century. To understand why the restaurant is so significant, we’ve got to understand Houston’s Black community and the landscape of Nigeria during the second part of the 20th century. During the 1960s and 1970s, decades critical to the Black Power Movement across the country, Black universities sought ways to connect with African countries, and vice versa. When the U.S. passed the 1965 Immigration and Nationality Act, it became easier for Africans to migrate to the U.S. Houston universities welcomed a huge number of students from several African countries, particularly from Nigeria.  This was a period of political instability in Nigeria. The Nigerian Civil War was technically only three years, culminating in 1970 but the war created emotional, economic, and political ramifications. Many Nigerians sought new opportunities in the United States, as did immigrants from nearby countries like Ghana, Senegal, and Liberia. Houston, thanks to its numerous universities, ample job opportunities and hot, familiar climate, was appealing. And once they were here, they looked for the foods they loved from home. Margaret Ukegbu started cooking and selling Nigerian food out of her home, such as rice dishes and plantains. Eventually, she and Hector opened Safari, which serves traditional Nigerian dishes like pepper soup with goat meat and egusi soup. For 25 years, they’ve served families and leaders from across the West African diaspora.  Over time, Houston has become an incubator of sorts for West African chefs and restaurateurs to get creative and explore the possibilities of West African dining. In this episode, Stewart interviews Kavachi Ukegbu, the daughter of Margaret and Hector, who currently runs Safari with her mother. She also speaks with Ope Amosu, the chef and entrepreneur behind ChòpnBlọk, a West African fast-casual restaurant in Houston, who’s on a mission to share the cuisine with American diners and change the narrative around the continent’s bounty. Finally, Stewart hears from Cherif Mbodji, the Senegalese-American general manager of the elegant restaurant Bludorn, about bringing Senegalese food and flavors to fine dining.

In Houston, Three Tastes of West Africa

In “The Joyful Black History of the Sweet Potato,” Kayla Stewart reports for Gravy on sweet potatoes, which Southern-born Black Americans have baked, roasted, fried, distilled—and long revered. Stewart takes listeners across the United States to learn how African Americans are finding new, interesting ways to enjoy sweet potatoes.  Harvey and Donna Williams own and operate Delta Dirt Distillery in Helena, Arkansas. Both grew up in Arkansas, and Harvey was raised on a farm that has been in his family for generations. His father began growing sweet potatoes to make efficient use of his small acreage, and Williams grew to love the root for its nutritional value. At a conference, he met an entrepreneur distilling sweet potatoes and decided to try it himself. In 2021, Delta Dirt Distillery was born, earning a host of beverage awards. But for the Williams family, success is about more than medals. It’s about recognizing the history and pride associated with sweet potatoes–a history that’s likely made the product even more compelling to Black Americans in the area.  Jeremy Peaches is an agriculture consultant who works at Lucille’s 1913, a non-profit organization operated by Houston chef Chris Williams that aims to combat food insecurity in vulnerable communities. While sweet potatoes are beloved for their sweet, earthy flavor, Peaches says they were also one of the first major sources of economic opportunity for Black American farmers, in part thanks to their resilience during the annual harvest. Though sweet potatoes can be enjoyed raw, roasted, or distilled, there’s nothing quite like the sweet potato pie. To understand how these pies have been comforting Southerners around the holidays for centuries, Stewart steps into the kitchen with restaurateur and cookbook author Alexander Smalls, who explains the history of sweet potato pie and why Black Americans make such a strong claim to the dish. Finally, Joye B. Moore, owner of Joyebells Desserts and Countrysides, tells of the generational traditions that make her famous sweet potato pies so exceptional. For this episode, Stewart interviews Harvey Williams, Jeremy Peaches, Alexander Smalls, and Joye B. Moore to learn how this root vegetable nourishes Black entrepreneurs, cooks, and communities—bodies and souls.

The Joyful Black History of the Sweet Potato

In “Annie Laura Squalls and Her Mile High Pie,” Gravy producer Kayla Stewart tells the story of Annie Laura Squalls, who, in 1960, became head baker at the Caribbean Room, the popular in-house restaurant at New Orleans’ renowned Pontchartrain Hotel. It was there where Squalls created her “Seven Mile High Pie,” known colloquially as the “Mile High Pie.” But while many people know the legendary pie, most don’t know the baker behind it.  Squalls was no ordinary baker. Though she never attended culinary school, she could make sweet magic happen, often thinking on her feet to tweak a recipe to perfection. Chef Nathaniel Burton and activist and socialite Rudy Lombard included Squalls’ Mile High Pie recipe in their 1978 book Creole Feast: Fifteen Master Chefs of New Orleans Reveal Their Secrets, writing, “No one could duplicate her expertise.”  The Mile High Pie is a twist on a Baked Alaska, with layers of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry or peppermint ice cream in a pie crust, topped with tall peaks of meringue and chocolate sauce. The dessert is prominently on display in New Orleans. Vogue once named it one of the city’s most decadent desserts. Still today, it’s the first item listed on the dessert menu in the restaurant at the Pontchartrain Hotel. The hotel promotes their long-running Mile High Club, an exclusive dining experience named for the dish. Yet Stewart found no reference anywhere to Annie Laura Squalls.  That lack of recognition speaks to a bigger issue. Despite the multicultural influences that have made New Orleans cuisines so globally-lauded, Black pastry chefs, cooks, and culinary innovators have rarely been given adequate appreciation or recognition for their invaluable influences on the city’s cuisine. In this episode, Stewart speaks to Zella Palmer, chair and director of the Dillard University Ray Charles program in African American Material Culture who aims to trace and amplify the work of Black chefs and cooks in and around New Orleans. She also interviews historian Theresa McCulla, a curator at the Smithsonian's National Museum of American History, and Kaitlin Guerin, pastry cook and owner of New Orleans’ Lagniappe Baking. In her reporting, Stewart shows how remembering stories like Squalls’ allows us to understand a true, fuller history of New Orleans.

Annie Laura Squalls and Her Mile High Pie

A reflection on the 2004 Southern Foodways Symposium, by soul food scholar Adrian Miller.

SFA Symposium and Spoonbread

A reflection on the first Southern Foodways Alliance Barbecue Symposium, by Founding Director John T. Edge.

A Symposium Memory

In “Rib Tips, Hot Links, and the Mississippi Roots of Chicago Barbecue,” Gravy producer Courtney DeLong dives into the history of Chicago barbecue and its connection to the Great Migration.  When people think about the best barbecue cities in America, they tend to think about places like Memphis, Kansas City, and Austin. In doing so, many neglect a unique and innovative barbecue hub: Southside Chicago. Melt-in-your mouth rib tips and seasoned hot links sitting on freshly-crisped french fries, topped off with a slice of white bread. Sweet and tangy sauce on the side. Almost always served to-go. The story of Chicago-style barbecue begins, in part, in the Great Migration. Between 1910 and 1970, six million Black Americans left their homes in the South to escape the violence of Jim Crow segregation and pursue greater economic, educational, and social opportunities. Chicago became a major destination, especially for migrants from Deep South states like Alabama and Mississippi. From 1910 to 1940, the city’s total Black population grew fivefold. By 1970 it had grown from under 50,000 to over 1 million.  Once early migrants traveled to Chicago, they established community networks that encouraged family and friends to join them. Facing discrimination, red-lining, and sometimes debilitating homesickness, Black migrants built neighborhoods and community structures that supported each other and welcomed Black Chicagoans.  Barbecue was one of the practices that made the journey north. Pitmasters built outdoor smokers made from box springs or empty barrels, and learned to use aquarium pits. They set up takeaway stands in vacant lots and front lawns across the city’s Black neighborhoods. Operating within the constraints of their spaces and supplies, they created rib tips from the edges of pork ribs, and hot links, a spicy sausage. For this episode of Gravy, DeLong interviews Charlie Robinson, who moved to Chicago from the Mississippi Delta and founded Robinson’s Ribs with the techniques he learned in his youth. Dr. Marcia Chatelain, a Pulitzer Prize-winning historian who studies the Great Migration and food, describes the experiences, challenges, and opportunities that migrants faced in their new homes. DeLong also speaks with Dr. Barbara Ann Bracy, whose parents started the beloved barbecue restaurant Barbara Ann’s, and Mimi Johnson of Alice’s Bar-B-Que. Chicago-style barbecue tells the story of Black Americans who made the best of impossible decisions. To learn more about Chicago and the Great Migration, this episode’s producers encourage readers to explore Dr. Chatelain’s books Southside Girls and Franchise, Michelle R. Boyd’s Jim Crow Nostalgia, and Isabelle Wilkerson’s The Warmth of Other Suns. For more on the history of barbecue we recommend Adrian Miller’s Black Smoke and for an understanding of the political power of food we recommend Frederick Douglas Opie’s Southern Food and Civil Rights. The episode was produced and repor

Rib Tips, Hot Links, and the Mississippi Roots of Chicago Barbecue

In “Father, Son, Fire: A Chat with Howard and Harrison Conyers,” the fourth episode in Gravy’s five-part series on barbecue, Howard Conyers—a barbecue expert and NASA rocket scientist—introduces listeners to a formative influence in his barbecue education and journey: his father, Harrison Conyers.  Some people find barbecue, but the Conyers family was born into a barbecue tradition that survived in the community. Growing up in the small town of Paxville, South Carolina, Howard didn’t go to restaurants to eat barbecue. Within a five-mile radius, there was no shortage of whole hog barbecue cooks (and the “whole hog” part was always implied).  Howard has spent years researching the Black origins of barbecue and traveled the world to gather stories of others who work the pits. His passion for barbecue comes from his own childhood, as he grew up in a family of skilled barbecue cooks. The contributions of cooks in Southern barbecue pits are widely overlooked, especially those that are not affiliated with restaurants covered widely in mainstream media, or those from rural, agrarian areas of the South.  Howard now lives in New Orleans, but he travels home often to barbecue with his family. In this special episode of Gravy, Howard interviews his father—whom he calls a hidden figure in his work and the world of barbecue—about some of his favorite projects that the two have worked on together over the years.  In this episode of Gravy, Howard and Harrison first discuss farming and its link to barbecue cultures across the South, as those who worked the fields during Harrison’s generation were the same people preserving the barbecue tradition we know. Next, they recall working together to barbecue a whole cow in the tradition of smoking steers and ox in the American South. Harrison used his skills as a master welder to bring Howard’s complex pit design to life for the Gumbo Jubilee in New Orleans. Finally, they talk about the barbecue pit that Harrison and countless other people of his era knew in the ground, which used metal pipes in place of tree limbs. Barbecue changes as the country progresses, Howard notes, but it’s important to remember the past. Stories of other teachers of this craft, and his experiences cooking with his father, inspire his research and work.

Father, Son, Fire: A Chat with Howard and Harrison Conyers

In “Grandpa’s Barbecue Blooms Out West,” Gravy producer Monica Gokey takes listeners to Idaho Falls, Idaho, to explore what happens when a Southerner leaves the South and opens a barbecue joint in the West.  Grandpa’s Southern Bar-B-Q originally opened in the small town of Arco, Idaho, which is obscurely famous for being the first community in the U.S. powered by nuclear energy. At the time Grandpa’s opened, Arco’s population was about a thousand people. It was an unlikely location for any restaurant, much less a Southern food restaurant.  Menu items like smoked brisket, collard greens, gumbo, and buttermilk pie were new fare for many locals, and it wasn’t the locals who patronized Grandpa’s at first. It was tourists—either passing through Arco on their way to Yellowstone or the nearby Craters of the Moon National Monument and Preserve.  Craters of the Moon is aptly named, and in 1969, Apollo 14 astronauts flew to Craters for a bootcamp on rocks. Their Apollo mission was focused on lunar exploration, and they spent time at Craters learning how to be field geologists. Thirty years later, park administrators got the idea to invite the surviving Apollo 14 astronauts back to Craters to commemorate the Monument’s 75th anniversary.  Grandpa’s had been open for four years at that point. A reporter who was in town to cover the Apollo 14 astronauts’ return to Idaho stopped in for barbecue, and ended up doing a short feature on Grandpa’s for the Idaho Statesman. That news story in Idaho’s largest daily was something of a lift-off moment for Grandpa’s. Spoiler alert: Grandpa’s flourished. It became a destination eatery—so much so that the owners, the Westbrook family, started keeping guest registries for visitors from around the world. Grandpa’s has since moved to the larger city of Idaho Falls, where you can sometimes find three generations of Westbrooks working the restaurant. The food has stayed true to its roots. At 79 years young, Lloyd is the pitmaster. His wife Loretta is the queen of desserts and sides. Kids and grandkids also help out. That familial atmosphere is something the Westbrooks extend to their customers, too. Everyone is treated like family when they step through the door.  When Grandpa’s first opened its doors, the Westbrooks were the only African American family living in Arco. They saw it as an opportunity to build bridges, and even taught a Black history curriculum at the local school.  For this episode, Monica Gokey talks to Lloyd and Loretta Westbrook, co-owners of Grandpa’s Southern Bar-B-Q, to learn how they built a thriving barbecue restaurant in the West. Listen to hear how the Westbrooks have learned to use food and friendliness as a vessel to build bridges in their community.

Southern Barbecue Goes West

In “Brisket Pho, a Viet Tex Story,” Gravy producer Jess Eng explores the emergence of Viet Tex, a cuisine created in recent years by contemporary Vietnamese-Texan chefs. These chefs grew up steeped in multicultural dining, eating Central Texas barbecue alongside family recipes. Now, in their own businesses, they marry smoked meats and barbecue spices with the flavorful broths and bright herbs that characterize Vietnamese dishes.  Houston is ground zero for Viet Tex, and with good reason. Houston is the most diverse city in America and, by extension, one of the country’s most vibrant food cities. 140,000 Vietnamese residents call Houston home, the largest community outside Vietnam and southern California. Vietnamese cajun crawfish restaurants, coffee roasters, and banh mi shops draw steady crowds. And just around the corner from the Vietnamese restaurants are Houston’s historic barbecue joints.  Many Vietnamese refugees sought homes in the United States after the Fall of Saigon in April 1975 and brought over their relatives. Gulf regions were particularly attractive because of their humid semi-tropical environment and thriving fishing, boating, and engineering industries, which felt like home to the Vietnamese. California, Louisiana, and Texas all fit the bill. Historically, Texas had welcomed more refugees than any other state. Many Vietnamese families took note of its growing Vietnamese diaspora, which saw another increase after Hurricane Katrina. This diaspora created dire circumstances within which Vietnamese Americans have created distinct regional cuisines. In 1981, Vietnamese shrimpers on the Texas Gulf Coast faced an angry mob of Klansmen who came at the invitation of jealous white fishermen. The Southern Poverty Law Center brought suit against the KKK, and seafood became a symbol of resilience for Vietnamese Americans. It's a pattern of adaptation and evolution that Vietnamese immigrants have long used to survive. For Gravy, Eng speaks to Don Nguyen, the Houston-based pitmaster and owner of Khoi Barbecue, whose brisket pho has made him a force in the barbecue world. Houston-born writer Dan Q. Dao explains why the term “fusion” undervalues the collision of organic cultures and cuisines, and how hybrid cuisines can keep ingredients alive. Andrew Ho, co-owner of San Antonio’s Curry Boys BBQ, tells of his journey to making brisket burnt ends submerged in flavorful white curry. Thanks to contemporary Vietnamese chefs, Eng argues, Viet Tex is shaping the growing canon of Southern and American food. Acknowledgments: The primary producer for this episode is Jess Eng, with co-production credits going to Courtney DeLong. Thanks goes to Don Nguyen, Andrew Ho, Sean Wen, Andrea Nguyen, Dan Q. Dao, Dennis Ngo, Johnny Huyhn, and  Teresa Trinh of the Vietnamese Culture and Science Organization.

Brisket Pho, a Viet Tex Story

In “Henry Perry, Kansas City’s 'Barbecue King,'” Gravy producer Mackenzie Martin tells the story of Henry Perry, the first person to really make a living selling barbecue in Kansas City. He even coined the local style. But, until recently, most people in KC didn’t know his name.  Perry was born in Shelby County, Tennessee, and started learning how to barbecue when he was just seven. By fifteen, he was cooking professionally on a steamboat that traveled up and down the Mississippi River—taking him to Chicago, Minneapolis, and, finally, Kansas City. With a thriving meatpacking industry and abundance of hardwood trees, the city was a perfect destination for an aspiring barbecue entrepreneur.  Perry was just that. In the early twentieth century, he started out selling barbecue from a stand, and later moved his operation to Kansas City’s historic 18th & Vine neighborhood, where liquor was free-flowing and jazz was just emerging. Over his long career, Perry’s business savvy led him to own multiple restaurants, eventually giving himself the nickname, “Barbecue King.” By the 1930s, people started following his lead. There were close to 100 barbecue restaurants in the area. And when Perry died, in 1940, his three notable apprentices went on to cook for the two most historically famous barbecue restaurants in Kansas City: Arthur Pinkard at the first Gates BBQ, and Texas brothers Arthur and Charlie Bryant, who created Arthur Bryant’s Barbeque.  It all begs the question: Would Kansas City even be known for barbecue without Henry Perry? And why, until recent years, didn’t the average Kansas Citian know who he was—even one who was related to him?  In this episode, Martin talks to local Kansas City historians Erik Stafford and Sonny Gibson; James Watts, the Ombudsman at the Black Archives of Mid-America; and historian Andrea Broomfield, to learn about Perry’s influence and legacy in Kansas City. Finally, she speaks with Bernetta McKindra, Perry’s granddaughter, who only truly began to learn of her grandfather’s achievements in 2017, a few years after he was inducted into the American Royal Barbecue Hall of Fame. How might it have been different, Martin asks, if McKindra grew up in a Kansas City where she saw her grandfather’s name everywhere?   Mackenzie Martin, a podcast producer and reporter at KCUR, created this episode of "Gravy." She helps make A People’s History of Kansas City and Hungry For MO.  An earlier version of this story aired on the KCUR Studios podcast, A People's History of Kansas City.  

Henry Perry, Kansas City's Barbecue King

In “Bread and Friends,” the final episode in her five-part series for Gravy, producer Irina Zhorov meets Camille Cogswell and Drew DiTomo in the final stages of preparation to open their new bakery. They hope that Walnut Family Bakery will be a special space in its Marshall, North Carolina community, where people run into friends, meet new acquaintances, and generally feel good entering. But how does such a place get created?  Marshall was once a thriving town, where people went from the surrounding country for all their needs, but as new bypasses and highways were built, the area began withering. The population of Madison County, where Marshall is located, was at a high of around 22,500 in the 1940s. By the 1970s it had dropped by nearly 30 percent.  Starting in the 1990s, new people began showing up—for the natural beauty, including mountains and streams; because of the area’s reputation as a stronghold of Americana music; or for its population of incredible artists and craftspeople. One of the first businesses opened by such a newcomer, in 1997, was a bakery. Jennifer Lapidus produced European-style hearty loaves in a wood-fired oven. When she left, in 2008, she rented the space to other bakers, each of whom ran their own version of the place. Everyone who baked there came from outside Marshall…and yet they tried to build community with pizza nights and workshops. But the people who frequented the bakery over the years were almost exclusively the newcomers, while the locals preferred biscuits and cornbread to those heartier bakes. Plus, many locals didn’t have the time or budget to make a special trip for bread.  Lapidus sold the place in late 2020 and the new owners, Cogswell and DiTomo, plan to run a retail operation, so that anyone can come by on the weekends, order at a staffed counter, hang out with a coffee, and stock up on bread for the week. They want their neighbors to gather on the property. Their business model and very ethic is built around a sense of camaraderie and care.  In this final episode, Zhorov talks to Cogswell and DiTomo all about their visions for the bakery’s future, and how they plan to bring all of the people who make up Marshall’s community to their table. Additionally, she hears from Rob Amberg and Paul Gurewitz, two long-time Marshall residents and regulars at the bakery throughout its many iterations. As Zhorov tells us, “To turn flour into bread, good bread, requires skill, but to turn strangers into friends—into community—is the world’s greatest alchemy.”

Bread and Friends

In “Making That Dough,” the fourth episode in her five-part series for Gravy, producer Irina Zhorov explores the business of cottage bakeries—and how small-scale bakers make amazing loaves out of home kitchens and converted garages. “Cottage” bakeries refer to those in which people sell baked goods out of their homes. For much of the twentieth century, selling food made at home was largely prohibited, but that changed in the 1990s and early 2000s, when a small number of states passed laws allowing such sales. In the wake of the 2008 recession, every state followed suit, allowing people to earn money during a financial crisis. Around 2020, during the Covid pandemic, some states further loosened their cottage food laws, lifting earning caps and restrictions on the products people could sell. The number of cottage bakeries again exploded.  Many bakers—like Camille Cosgwell and Drew DiTomo, the new owners of the rural North Carolina bakery that this Gravy series follows—are drawn to the cottage models during times of transition. It’s a chance to reshuffle priorities and create a sustainable work life without the long hours and unpredictable schedules the restaurant industry is known for. For others, a cottage bakery is a stepping stone to a brick-and-mortar shop.  For this episode, Zhorov talks to Cogswell about her dreams for the new property. She wants to work four or five days per week, grow some fruits and vegetables, and build something that feels sustainable and fun. Zhorov also interviews other cottage bakers in the South about their trajectories and hopes. Dalen Gray and Tatiana Magee operate Between the Trees Bread in Boone, North Carolina, out of a space that used to be Dalen’s mother’s garage. During the pandemic, sisters Reyna Soto and Adriana Ipiña opened El Pantastico, in Duncanville, Texas, making Mexican pan dulce, or sweet baked goods. Former preschool teacher Sierra Patterson of Auburn, Alabama, started Sour South from her home when her school closed and she didn’t have childcare for her son. In conversation with Zhorov, each baker explains how cottage production works for them and how they hope to evolve their businesses in the future.

Making that Dough

In “Fresh Flour to the People,” the third episode in her five-part series for Gravy, producer Irina Zhorov talks to bakers who have started demanding more from a key element in their craft—flour.  When we talk about ingredients, there’s a lot to consider: how fresh the fruit, how local the meat, how wild the fish. But for some reason, these are not questions most of us have been asking about flour—until more recently.  In the South, much of the work to bring local, quality flours started in an inconspicuous little house and bakery in Marshall, North Carolina. People who have lived and worked at this property had a tendency to become obsessed with flour to the point that two of them actually transitioned away from baking, to milling flour. They’ve driven a small but mighty revolution among bakers in the South and beyond to take flour seriously, creating new markets and new flavors.  A quick primer here. There are two basic kinds of wheat: hard wheat and soft wheat. Hard wheat has more protein, which gives the bread structure and allows it to rise and develop pretty air pockets. Hearty loaves require hard wheat, which did not grow in North Carolina. In fact, the whole South mostly grew soft wheats, which were better adapted to the local climate and land. Then local farmers and wheat breeders started experimenting with varieties of hard wheat, creating a local grain economy, a resurgence of small-scale mills, and breads packed with distinct and varied flavors.  In this episode, Zhorov interviews Jennifer Lapidus, the first baker on the Marshall property, who began seeking a local hard wheat for the European-style, naturally leavened loaves she loves. Today, she runs Carolina Ground, a small grain mill in western North Carolina that has fostered a community of farmers, bakers, and millers. After Lapidus left, she rented the property to David Bauer, who opened Farm and Sparrow bakery and similarly became interested in milling; today, Farm and Sparrow is exclusively a mill. Bauer tells Zhorov of his path to working with local grains, and of the tension between innovation and tradition. Zhorov also speaks with David Marshall, a former wheat breeder for the U.S. Department of Agriculture who began experimenting with local varieties of hard wheat in the region.   Finally, Camille Cogswell, who now owns the bakery with her partner, Drew DiTomo, shares how she is choosing the flour she will work with in the space, fostering connections to her new home, new foodways and purveyors, and new people along the way.

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