The Jemima Code

November 20, 2009 at 3:13 pm, by

EDNA LEWIS: A MENTOR FOR ALL

I was privileged to meet Edna Lewis, the woman some have called the “Julia Child of Southern Cuisine,” in 1985 at the annual meeting of registered dietitians in Los Angeles, where she was drawing a crowd of autograph seekers. I was young and didn’t know a thing about her, but I purchased The Edna Lewis Cookbook, anyway, then for the next 10 years she silently mentored me as I cooked from its pages.
It wasn’t long before I was allured by her incredible talent and her delicate, selfless manner, just like the rest of the crowd. That’s why I was particularly surprised and humbled when her strongly-worded letter arrived in my office mailbox with a challenge: “Leave no stone unturned.”
It was 1995, and Edna was exhausted and weak from radiation, but she gathered her strength and composed a three-page rant about African American food history, which said in part: “We developed but did not own it [southern food] because we did not own ourselves,” Edna laments, “but we established a cuisine.
“Every group has its own food history,” Edna scribbled, with the kind of hurried penmanship that happens when thoughts are jumping out of your head and onto the page faster than you can capture them. “Our condition was different. We were brought here against our will in the millions, enslaved, and through it all established a cuisine in the south…the only fully developed cuisine in the country.”
Ten years later, after lost her battle with cancer at the age of 89, that letter became a personal treasure to me. It also made me sad. Edna’s culinary talent, authentic beauty, and quiet grace are cherished in the world of southern food. Elsewhere, she is virtually unknown.
Her words strengthened my resolve to celebrate the invisible women who fed America.
But, I knew it wouldn’t be easy. Julie, after all, had Julia; there just isn’t a single source that accurately portrays the history of African American cooks.  In fact, if it had not been for Aunt Jemima stereotypes these tireless, talented women would have little written history at all.
Edna is just one of many affirming examples of real, professional empowered, beautiful – slim – black chefs who helped me re-think the link between African American women and the jarring portrait of the south’s “old black Mammy.”  The powerful love language of their kitchens has taught me how to treat my children, how to give when my cup is empty, and of course, how to cook. And I mean really cook.
When I make Edna’s blackberry cobbler, my husband and kids each grab a spoon, stand around the steaming pan, and dig in, while I imagine her whispering the old-fashioned secret wisdom that used to be handed down between generations.  I joyfully talk about the characteristics that intersect in the black women like Edna Lewis who fed this nation, but explain the ways they have been lost in lampoon. I discover that the woman I am becoming is a mere shadow of the women they were: patient and loving; smart, talented, hard-working; strong physically and emotionally, compassionate; multi-tasking.
I make peace with the harsh reality of my own double history, and that begins to break the Jemima Code.

I was privileged to meet Edna Lewis, the woman some have called the “Julia Child of Southern Cuisine,” in 1985 at the annual meeting of registered dietitians in Los Angeles, where she was drawing a crowd of autograph seekers. I was young and didn’t know a thing about her, but I purchased The Edna Lewis Cookbook, anyway, then for the next 10 years she silently mentored me as I cooked from its pages.

It wasn’t long before I was allured by her incredible talent and her delicate, selfless manner, just like the rest of the crowd. That’s why I was particularly surprised and humbled when her strongly-worded letter arrived in my office mailbox with a challenge: “Leave no stone unturned.”

It was 1995, and Edna was exhausted and weak from radiation, but she gathered her strength and composed a three-page rant about African American food history, which said in part: “We developed but did not own it [southern food] because we did not own ourselves,” Edna laments, “but we established a cuisine.

“Every group has its own food history,” Edna scribbled, with the kind of hurried penmanship that happens when thoughts are jumping out of your head and onto the page faster than you can capture them. “Our condition was different. We were brought here against our will in the millions, enslaved, and through it all established a cuisine in the south…the only fully developed cuisine in the country.”

Ten years later, after Edna lost her battle with cancer at the age of 89, that letter became a personal treasure to me. It also made me sad. Edna’s culinary talent, authentic beauty, and quiet grace are cherished in the world of southern food. Elsewhere, she is virtually unknown.

Her words strengthened my resolve to celebrate the invisible women who fed America.

I knew it wouldn’t be easy. Julie, after all, had Julia; there just isn’t a single source that accurately portrays the history of African American cooks.  In fact, if it had not been for Aunt Jemima stereotypes these tireless, talented women would have little written history at all.

Edna is just one of many affirming examples of real, professional empowered, beautiful – slim – black chefs who helped me re-think the link between African American women and the jarring portrait of the south’s “old black Mammy.”  The powerful love language of their kitchens has taught me how to treat my children, how to give when my cup is empty, and of course, how to cook. And I mean really cook.

When I make Edna’s blackberry cobbler, my husband and kids each grab a spoon, stand around the steaming pan, and dig in, while I imagine her whispering the old-fashioned secret wisdom that used to be handed down between generations.  I joyfully talk about the characteristics that intersect in the black women like Edna Lewis who fed this nation, but explain the ways they have been lost in lampoon. I discover that the woman I am becoming is a mere shadow of the women they were: patient and loving; smart, talented, hard-working; strong physically and emotionally, compassionate; multi-tasking.

I make peace with the harsh reality of my own double history, and that begins to break the Jemima Code.

In Her Kitchen

Recipe: Edna’s Blackberry Cobbler

Ingredients

  • 2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 cup lard
  • 1/3 cup cold water
  • 1 cup sugar cubes, crushed
  • 5 cups blackberries
  • 4 thin slices butter
  • 3/4 cups granulated sugar
  • 2 teaspoons cornstarch
  • 1/4 cup light cream
  • 1 cup Vanilla-Flavored Whipped Cream (recipe follows)

Instructions

  1. Sift the flour and salt into a large mixing bowl. Blend in the lard with a pastry blender or with your fingers. When it is well blended and fine-grained, skrinkle in the water all at once, and draw the dough together quickly, shaping it into a ball. Divide in half and let rest a few minutes. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Roll out the dough and line an 8-inch baking pan. Sprinkle 2 to 3 tablespoons of the crushed sugar over the dough. fill with the berries, adding the pieces of butter and sprinkling with the granulated sugar mixed with the cornsarch. Wet the rim of the bottom crust and place the top pastry over it, pressing down to seal. Trim away the excess. With the handle of a dinner knife, make a decorative edge and then cut a few slits in the center to allow steam to escape. Brush the thop with a thick brush of cream and sprinkle on the remaining crused cube sugar. Place in a the preheated oven, shut the door, and reduce the heat to 350 degress. Bake for 45 minutes. Remove from the oven and set on a rack to cool slightly before serving. Serve with a dollop of Vanilla-Flavored Whipped Cream on top.

Number of servings: 8

In Her Kitchen
  1. Therese Nelson    March 14, 2010 at 6:00 pm

    I am sitting here in tears because I am just so proud that you put to words my feeling about Ms. Edna and her legacy. I’ve been thinking so much lately about my place in this culinary work and its when i look to Ms. Edna’s photo or read one of her recipes that I feel like I am so much a part of something bigger than the plates i put out. Thanks you so much for your words and this blog because remembering and talking about our precious and fragile legacy is the first step in preserving it!!!

  2. Toni Tipton Martin    March 15, 2010 at 8:18 am

    The interesting thing is this: These are the feelings we have about the women we know personally or whose work we respect. Just think how much more respect we would have for culinary arts in general if we knew about more women like Ms. Lewis. I’ve taken these women’s stories to bed with me at night and cried myself to sleep. I’ll try to keep this space uplifting so we can include everyone in the conversation.

  3. Angela    March 15, 2010 at 4:06 pm

    Thank you so much for your posting. I recently “discovered” Edna Lewis and reading her cookbook “A Taste of Country Cooking” is so inspiring. This is the real “soul food” and it needs to be recognized for its great culinary tradition. As African American/Southern cuisine has been industrialized it has gotten a reputation for being bad and unhealthy. When I read Miss Edna’s book, I saw so many recipes that exemplify the foods that are are being touted today – fresh, seasonal, local, organic, pasture-raised, grassfed. Let’s all continue to spread the word about Miss Edna and reclaim proudly reclaim our culinary tradition.

  4. Toni Tipton Martin    March 16, 2010 at 5:03 pm

    I hope you keep the culinary love going strong as we meet other very special women from our history on this journal. Thanks for visiting and for commenting and sharing.

  5. Virginia Henry    November 12, 2010 at 2:00 am

    For my culinary class I had to do researchmon culinary arts, and I came upon this site, being an African American, and a chef, it was an honor to know that someone like Edna Lewis is an aspiration for all, this is history.


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