an interview with john t. edge

on a rainy friday morning last fall, fifty or so campers climbed off the bus in east tennessee to stroll through a hillside graveyard. we grumbled a bit as we sought the tombstone of tennessee’s most famous son. a few hundred yards up the path, someone spied the granite stone flanked by a pair of white chairs, under which whiskey maker jack daniel has lain for the last 95 years. it wasn't yet 10 am, so no one dared to take a pull from a bottle of old no. 7, or pour an offering on mr. jack’s grave. instead, bellies still full from the greasy breakfast we'd downed at silver sands, one of nashville’s soul food mainstays, we trudged on to lynchburg, where, an hour later, we ate again.

members of the southern foodways alliance, the organization behind the weekend-long camp nashville foray, don’t merely dine: they feast, they gorge, they gobble down food, savoring every mouthful as if they were seated on death row and indulging in that final meal. if they’re not lifting their forks to their lips, or chewing, or swallowing, or politely swabbing their chins with a napkin so they can begin the ritual again, they’re discussing food – meals past, present, and future are fair game, as are chefs, cookbooks, infinite sources of bacon and heirloom tomatoes, and the whereabouts of the region’s best barbecue shacks, which if you’re taking notes, exist on only the most out-of-the-way gravel roads.

the group on this camp nashville excursion was a cultured bunch:food writers john egerton, rachel lawson, and jim meyers are along for the ride, along with billy allin, a chef at decatur, georgia’s watershed restaurant, the entire corporate staff of jim n nicks barbecue chain, and a ragtag cloche of college professors, cooking enthusiasts, southern culture buffs, and hardcore foodies.

we were all tuned into one man – SFA director john t. edge, who happily led his fellow campers into battle, delivering mouthwatering edicts on fried chicken, pulled pork shoulder, and meat-and-three restaurants with the aplomb of a true believer.

“like music, food is a big part of how we define ourselves,” said edge, who launched a southern food symposium at the university of mississippi while he was a graduate student in southern studies in the late 1990s.

“our mission,” he told me, “is really straightforward: to document and celebrate the diverse food cultures of the american south.”

under edge’s leadership – and with the assistance of associate director mary beth lassiter, oral historian amy evans, and nearly 1000 individual and corporate members – the SFA, which operates under the aegis of the center for the study of southern culture at the university of mississippi, has evolved into a program that expands social consciousness as well as waistlines.

“people who come to our events quickly realize that we’re offering an entry to bigger issues, whether it’s volunteer work or discussions of race,” said edge, pointing to projects like the rebuilding of willie mae’s scotch house, a new orleans landmark that was destroyed by hurricane katrina.

“what makes southern food so distinctive is that interplay between black and white,” he said. “america’s interest in regional food is spiking. in the future, I think other distinctive foodways – like new england, and the tex-mex border – will likely develop.”

although the SFA has recently turned its discerning eye on athens, georgia, apalachicola, florida, and the tamale trails of the mississippi delta, for us, the focus was on middle tennessee – after spending an afternoon touring lynchburg’s jack daniel’s distillery, it was back to nashville, where an endless bounty awaited.

first, campers met at a small local art gallery, the site of a kickoff party for the east nashville tomato art festival, where we were feted with catfish BLTs, kegs of yazoo beer, and pureed tomato popsicles. saturday morning, everyone reconvened at the station inn, where the sounds of last night’s bluegrass jam still hung in the air, to celebrate the artistry of local fried sweet potato pie king e.w. mayo. hangovers were plentiful, but the starchy, crumbly goodness that fell from mayo’s worn fingers into the fryer offered the perfect cure. filmmaker joe york screened a documentary short detailing the pie man’s life, and then edge bestowed him with a tabasco guardian of the tradition award, which, along with the keeper of the flame award, is the SFA’s highest honor.

“the things we do have an academic backbone,” edge explained, “but we’re committed to producing events and scholarship that are a pleasure to be a part of. while I’m deeply and profoundly dedicated to the people we celebrate, like mr. mayo, I don’t give a damn about the pretense and pomp that goes along with so much of the food world.”

“we honor southern foodways by recording oral histories, by making documentary films, and by staging events at which people learn about southern food, and drink and eat the hell out of it!”

(excerpted from chowing down on the south, a piece originally published in paste magazine.