Pilgrims’ Progress

Two foodies on holiday in the Mississippi Delta.

by

To think it all started with tamales. Not even real tamales — just the thought of them, piled on a plate, Mississippi Delta-style, was enough to set Justin Fox Burks and me on the road.

Burks is a respected co-author of four vegetarian cookbooks with his wife, Amy Lawrence. Their recipes are known for taking the best of Southern and other traditions and adapting them seamlessly to plant-based alternatives. His curiosity about the time-honored tradition of Delta tamales runs deep. On Burks’ and Lawrence’s Chubby Vegetarian website, they write of “delicious, inspired dishes that just happen to be vegetarian.” Burks had a hunch we would find plenty that was both delicious and inspiring. Luckily for him (and me), I was tagging along as the meathead, ready to sample more carnivorous delights while Burks pursued his other vocation: photography.

Of course, we should have guessed that our quest for tamales would only lure us deeper into the cuisine of the Delta — and, it turned out, into Burks’ own childhood.But more about that later.

Clarksdale

Confronted with a tamale craving, we reached out to local author Robert Gordon, who replied decisively, “I’m a big fan of Delta tamales, and the best are at Hicks’ in Clarksdale.” With that, we were off, and, as luck would have it, Eugene Hicks Jr. was just arriving as we pulled up to Hicks’ World Famous Tamales; just behind him was his father, Eugene Hicks Sr.

Their stock was nearly depleted, as the elder Hicks explained. “When the holidays are over, people are going back home. They’ve got to take three dozen to Jack; Sue, she wants two dozen; Margaret, she wants seven and a half dozen — can I get eight?”

But we were in luck, as they served up a plate of corn husk-wrapped beauties. Burks examined them closely. “They’re so neatly wrapped. I can see the care that y’all put into them.” And I could taste the care, too. Finely seasoned corn meal, still marked by the husks, surrounded a zesty pocket of beef in the center. Exquisite, and rather different from the more cumin-heavy tamales I’ve sampled in Central America.

As I marveled at the flavor, the elder Hicks noted the importance of using real corn husks, not the wax paper favored by many establishments now. “I call them white gold. I’ve got some wax paper wraps back there, but as long as we can get the husks, we’re not even thinking about the wax paper.”

As Hicks Jr. explained, using husks is labor-intensive, but worth it. “You have to trim the husks, cut them down to size. And we boil ours, to get the shuck tea out. That tea would add a flavor to the tamale that we don’t want. Boiling sterilizes them and gets rid of the shuck tea.”

“And the tea is good for you,” added the father, before explaining that he will soon retire. “I’ll be 79 years old on Super Bowl Sunday!” The shop’s celebrating its 50th anniversary this year, though the elder Hicks was selling tamales long before he had a brick-and-mortar location. Now, he’s turning the whole operation over to his son, who’s committed to keeping the same recipe his father developed, even as he streamlines production. “It’s a labor of love, I tell you,” said Eugene Hicks Jr. “I was born into it. People say, ‘You’re the Hot Tamale Man!’ I see ’em in my sleep now.”

We bade the Hicks farewell and resolved to determine if their tamales could be topped. Greenville has named itself “Hot Tamale Capital of the World,” and hosts the Delta Hot Tamale Festival; to get there, we would have to go to the Crossroads, the fabled intersection of Highways 61 and 49, now celebrated with signage and a mural of bluesman Robert Johnson selling his soul to the devil. As he famously sang,

Hot tamales and they’re red hot,

yes she got ’em for sale

You know grandma loves them and grandpa too

Well I wonder what in the world we children gonna do now

Hot tamales and they’re red hot,

yes she got ’em for sale

Before heading south, though, I slammed on the brakes. “Abe’s Bar-B-Q, serving you since 1924!” I announced, in my capacity as resident carnivore. Inside, another family legacy was at work, as Pat Davis Jr., grandson of founder Abe Davis, served up a pit-cooked pork sandwich, with slaw and a sauce tinged with vinegar, that (yes) rivaled any in Memphis.

“I’m the grandson,” Davis told me. “My son said, ‘How do you do that, Dad?’ I said, ‘I guess old Lebanese don’t give up too easy.’ He says, ‘Well, I’m going to school.’ I said, ‘That’s exactly what I want you to do.’” While one hopes the family keeps their legacy alive indefinitely, Davis is spry enough not to worry about that yet.

Greenville

Pit barbecue pit stop complete, we were off to Greenville, in the southwest corner of the Mississippi Delta, where the celebrated Doe’s Eat Place has sold tamales since 1941. While not many lunch customers were there, that meant I could get a fresh-cooked plate in no time, and they offered beer to boot. Nevertheless, the fare at Doe’s did not overtake Hicks’ in our view. “These are very different from the others,” noted Burks with some melancholy. “They’re in the wax paper.” But the cornmeal-heavy tamales at Doe’s, with considerably less meat filling, did seem to fire my pal’s vegetarian imagination. Perhaps we’ll see a corn husk-wrapped meatless hybrid, inspired by both establishments, in a Burks/Lawrence-penned cookbook soon.

Indianola

Having awarded Hicks’ the unofficial Delta hot tamale crown, we resolved to keep eating. Several locals recommended The Crown restaurant and gift shop in Indianola, but the dining area closed before we were able to enjoy our third lunch. While we hated to miss their most popular dish, “the poached catfish with the Allison butter,” as Jennifer at the counter explained, their gift shop was loaded with ready-made mixes, jams, and jellies, all bearing their own Taste of Gourmet brand.

Burks enthused about the highly alliterative peach pecan pepper preserves. “Sweet and sour, savory from the pecans, and spicy. It’s all the things!” But I was already tugging at his sleeve. I’d heard about another eatery with ties to Indianola’s hometown hero, B.B. King. And with that, we were off to Betty’s Place.

Don’t let the restaurant’s location in a converted garage deceive you: Betty’s soul food cuisine meets the highest standards, and the proof’s in the high-profile customers she’s served over the years, many of whom have scrawled their names on the walls. And it all started with a King. Proprietor and chef Betty Campbell explains, “I cooked for B.B. King for about 20 years. I used to have a grocery store-slash-restaurant on the south side of town. It started out when a group from London were performing at the club, and B.B. wanted fish, but he didn’t want it fried. So, I created a dish with broccoli, bell peppers, onions, and lemon juice, and put it over rice. From there, it took off.”

We settled for the honey-bun cake, a variation on Betty’s “sock it to me” cake. “You can put it in a Bundt pan and put drizzles on it,” she explained, for a cross between coffee cake and a honey bun. She used to add pecans, she said, but customer allergies prompted her to omit that ingredient. Just hearing her say it, though, jogged our memory: Indianola is celebrated for its pecans. We had to get some.

Next stop: the Indianola Pecan House. Bags upon bags of the nuts were stacked everywhere, surrounded by all manner of pecan-themed treats under the house brand. I settled on the praline-and-cream pecans and a pecan-graced truffle, and dreamed of those flavors blended with Betty’s sock-it-to-me cake.

Greenwood

Or perhaps that dream was merely the onset of a food coma. But never mind that, we had more eating to do! With each stop in the Delta, we’d learn of more dining experiences that cried out for sampling. The siren songs ultimately steered us towards the eastern horizon, to the region’s undisputed capital of fine cuisine, Greenwood. As the home of the Viking Range Corporation, the town is a beacon for chefs of all stripes, especially since 2003, when Viking opened The Alluvian Hotel in the city’s historic downtown. Now, with the Alluvian Spa, Viking Cooking School, and Giardina’s Restaurant included in the Viking Hospitality Group, it’s a chef’s paradise.

Yet our first stop was the independent gem known as Fan and Johnny’s, a cozy, artfully decorated space owned and operated by James Beard Award-nominated chef Taylor Bowen-Ricketts. Even when putting her own spin on local soul food, she adds a bit of Continental flair, as with her deep-fried frog legs with lemon pepper vinaigrette, which redefine “tender” and “succulent.” For his part, Burks finally found a vegetarian safe space, relishing the buttered, broiled beets with sour cream, the charred broccoli with herb vinaigrette, and some classic asparagus on the side. Meanwhile, I tucked into the crawfish penne pasta salad, also served with asparagus, not to mention remoulade, romaine lettuce, onion, tomato, and feta — a finely balanced flavor celebration.

The most charmed moment of the journey was yet to come. Having checked in to our luxurious rooms at The Alluvian, which blend the character of the old Hotel Irving, built in 1917, with the chic art, decor, and amenities of its renovated new identity, we made our way downstairs to Giardina’s. We walked through the bar, with its dark wood and tile, and entered the dining area, where the seating consists of 14 private booths, each complete with high walls and curtains. Part of the original, pre-renovation Giardina’s, the booths make for an especially intimate evening, with just a hint of Bonnie and Clyde-style luxury.

The food was stellar. Our vegetarian was happy, even noting, “This is the best eggplant parmesan I’ve ever had. Eggplant can pick up a lot of cooking oil. But this is light and delicious, such a nice little sealed packet there with the breading. The oil doesn’t get through, so you don’t feel like you’re drinking olive oil.” And just then, as if stepping through a portal, one of Burks’ childhood friends appeared.

It should be noted that Greenwood was Burks’ childhood home for only a year, before his family returned to Memphis. But, as fate would have it, the Burks’ closest friends in Greenwood, the Johnsons, also followed suit, and young Justin forged a friendship with his agemate Chris Johnson that carries on to this day. How serendipitous, then, as we relished the fine cuisine, to see Chris’ younger brother, Alan, appear in our booth, pulling up a chair and a beer to chat with us.

Though he still lives part-time in Memphis, Chef Alan Johnson revels in crafting the cuisine of Giardina’s so much that he commutes to Greenwood every week. “We have a hunting camp outside of Greenwood, and it’s actually where I grew up. So I drive up here and stay five nights.” Still, Chef Johnson loves Memphis, and brings our city’s array of flavors to all his work. “I love Wiseacre,” he added. “Wiseacre’s not just my favorite Memphis brewery, it’s my favorite brewery in the country. So good!”

Marveling at their unplanned meeting, Burks and Johnson reminisced about their families’ ties to Greenwood. “You basically live in two of the smallest towns in the world,” quipped Burks.

“Yes, Memphis and Greenwood!” answered Chef Johnson. And Johnson loves them both. Indeed, Giardina’s has close ties to his kin, bringing the Johnson family legacy full circle. “My Uncle Henry’s duck gumbo is on the menu here. Duck hunting was always a big thing. But there’s no steel shot in ours!”

The next morning, we visited the fine teaching facility and store of the Viking Cooking School. Manager Kimberly Gnemi explained that the school is geared solely to the home chef, and is not aimed at instructing those with more professional ambitions. Nonetheless, students attending the one-day classes sometimes rise through the ranks. “Most of our chefs are home chefs who trained here and can now teach classes,” Gnemi noted.

But beyond improved cooking skills, the classes have other benefits, said Gnemi. “In each class, people collect in three groups of four. The recipes are designed for four. And you’re cooking, eating together, everybody doing what they’re comfortable with, and they end up being friends. I tell people, ‘You’re going to end up finding your people in this class.’”

Burks asked, “Do you have any vegetarian classes?”

Gnemi replied, “We do not have classes dedicated to that, simply because it’s such a small part of the population.” We raised our eyebrows. “But we will make concessions for that, if you call and let us know. We can do gluten-free; we can work around anything.”

Surrounded by all the gleaming cookware and stainless-steel tables, our appetites were once more whetted. Good thing we had planned one more meal before heading home.

Itta Bena

The previous night, a fellow diner at Fan and Johnny’s told us about Larry’s Fish House in nearby Itta Bena (population: 2,049). Having not yet sampled fried catfish, that culinary staple of the Delta, we knew what we needed to do. We arrived at high noon, the local Rotary Club meeting in full swing in the back room, as a long line formed at the cafeteria-style hot tables where fried catfish, lemon-baked catfish and barbecued catfish were being served. Of course, there were also hush puppies, cornbread, collard greens, cole slaw, and other delicacies, but the fried catfish was clearly king. If your first helping disappeared, a waitress would bring a tray of more fish right out of the fryer to top you off. For which I was thankful.

Burks, hesitant to utter the word “vegetarian,” pled a lack of hunger to the locals, but took interest in the cole slaw. Its sweetness, unlike many slaws of the South, was subtle, a welcome surprise. Owner Larry Kelly spoke of it with pride. “That is my recipe. It wasn’i too sweet. We just put a little sugar in it to knock off the little bitter edge of the cabbage.” Still, as the little building outside of town bustled with diners, the catfish clearly held the place of pride here. Kelly claims that “if you lay one of those catfish filets on top of your head, your tongue would beat your brain out just trying to get to it.” Who are we to argue? When it comes right down to it, though, sorry, Larry. We were too full to try.