Low & Slow: Cooking in the 1950s South
by Temple Northup
On November 22, 1993, a television network was launched that in many ways reflected a change in food culture in the United States and would be predictive of what would be to come over the next two decades. On that date, the Food Network was launched to satiate a growing demand for content that was about food—creating a celebrity culture around chefs and cooking that continues to this day. This launch coincided with a rising interest in general about what foods we were eating, where they came from, and how we can elevate the very mundane task we all must do to survive: eat.
Having grown up in this time period, I was heavily influenced by many of those chefs and have had for a long time an interest in learning about food. Although I consider myself to be a fairly good cook, I enjoy going out to dinner whenever I can and when I do stay home, often use various short cuts to enable me to cook faster. In fact, there is not a shortage of companies out there right now that are capitalizing on people like me who want to cook at home but also want things quickly, so they market various ways to eat home-cooked meals without much of the hassle of handling all of the cooking chores.
Having grown up in this time period, I was heavily influenced by many of those chefs and have had for a long time an interest in learning about food. Although I consider myself to be a fairly good cook, I enjoy going out to dinner whenever I can and when I do stay home, often use various short cuts to enable me to cook faster. In fact, there is not a shortage of companies out there right now that are capitalizing on people like me who want to cook at home but also want things quickly, so they market various ways to eat home-cooked meals without much of the hassle of handling all of the cooking chores.
Wilson Montjoy: A Chef from Another Era
This is a radical shift in consumption compared to what my own parents experienced as children. My mom grew up in Mississippi in the 1940s and 1950s—an era of change for the United States, but also an era when cooking was done at home and eating out was limited to an occasional visit to the cafeteria or, perhaps, the soda shop. It is in that context where we hear about some of the recipes she grew up eating—food primarily cooked by her step-father, Wilson.
Wilson lived the first half of his life as a bachelor—he was forty years old when he married my grandmother. My mom’s mom was quite the eligible bachelorette in those days, despite having two children. Wilson, years later, noted that marrying into a family where the wife already had two kids was “worth it” because his bride was such an incredible woman.
My mom was 4 years old at the time of the marriage, and she has distinct memories of the subtle shift that occurred when he moved into their lives. Of course, in those days, it was generally expected that the wife is the one who would do all the cooking and so she gladly took on those responsibilities. Each day, when Wilson would return from his job at J.C. Penney, he would pore himself a drink and watch as his wife would do all the cooking. Eventually, though, he began to pitch in and help with the cooking—unable to merely sit idly by. Before long, the balance completely shifted and it would be Wilson doing the cooking while my mom’s mom would pour a drink and watch him at work. It was an unusual arrangement for the time period, but he was a passionate man who loved food and enjoyed cooking almost as much as anything, so it isn’t that surprising to any of us who knew him later in life that this would be how food was made in the house.
Having spent many years as a bachelor in Florida before moving to Mississippi (where he grew up), Wilson had developed incredible cooking skills based on intuition and an ability to use the foods and in particular the meats available to him at any given time of the year. Perhaps nowhere is this more evident than two of his most iconic dishes: gumbo and Brunswick stew.
Wilson lived the first half of his life as a bachelor—he was forty years old when he married my grandmother. My mom’s mom was quite the eligible bachelorette in those days, despite having two children. Wilson, years later, noted that marrying into a family where the wife already had two kids was “worth it” because his bride was such an incredible woman.
My mom was 4 years old at the time of the marriage, and she has distinct memories of the subtle shift that occurred when he moved into their lives. Of course, in those days, it was generally expected that the wife is the one who would do all the cooking and so she gladly took on those responsibilities. Each day, when Wilson would return from his job at J.C. Penney, he would pore himself a drink and watch as his wife would do all the cooking. Eventually, though, he began to pitch in and help with the cooking—unable to merely sit idly by. Before long, the balance completely shifted and it would be Wilson doing the cooking while my mom’s mom would pour a drink and watch him at work. It was an unusual arrangement for the time period, but he was a passionate man who loved food and enjoyed cooking almost as much as anything, so it isn’t that surprising to any of us who knew him later in life that this would be how food was made in the house.
Having spent many years as a bachelor in Florida before moving to Mississippi (where he grew up), Wilson had developed incredible cooking skills based on intuition and an ability to use the foods and in particular the meats available to him at any given time of the year. Perhaps nowhere is this more evident than two of his most iconic dishes: gumbo and Brunswick stew.
Gumbo
For me, nothing is as memorable as Wilson’s gumbo. This is a dish that I would get to have with him every year as our extended family gathered at a beach house our family owned in Florida. There, I would often spend weeks with Wilson learning the ways of fishing, shrimping, and crabbing. Under his watchful eyes, I would set the crab traps each day and then take a little boat into the waters around our house and set them. The next morning, I would check to see what spoils I had gotten during the previous night—almost always successful with a trap filled with crabs. I would dump them into my bucket before resetting the traps for another day of crabbing.
As a kid, there was no shortage of crabs, shrimp, or fish to be caught. When Wilson would take us fishing in the Gulf of Mexico, we could literally use straws as lures and catch as many Speckled Trout as we could possibly eat. Now, as an adult, the waters have been over-fished such that it is much harder to catch a lot of fish, but growing up, it would have been a challenge to have a day wasted at sea.
Crabs and shrimp make up the two primary ingredients to Wilson’s gumbo, along with other staples of southern cuisine—including okra. Like many of his recipes, they were created from intuition rather than science, with recipe lists that we forced him to write down. That is why things like “1 large onion (or more)” can be found on the list, or instruction like “season to taste.” The specific seasonings aren’t there, and to be sure, they were put into the pot—but they have been lost to time and so can only be guessed upon or, perhaps more truthfully, reflect his instructions, which are to use the seasons I prefer to suit my own tastes.
It is also worth nothing that although the recipe is written down in what would appear to be a chronological order, the reality is that it would be nearly impossible to follow as written. It is only halfway through the recipe, for instance—after having done things like cook the onion in bacon grease—that you are instructed to cook, clean, and pick out the meat from the crabs. Anyone who has done this task knows it is not simple to pick the meat out and it takes time—surely, it would have been done first in this process, but this was written down as he was thinking about it.
It is hard for me to have any gumbo that isn’t this particular gumbo. It is the gold standard against which all others are compared. None will ever come close.
As a kid, there was no shortage of crabs, shrimp, or fish to be caught. When Wilson would take us fishing in the Gulf of Mexico, we could literally use straws as lures and catch as many Speckled Trout as we could possibly eat. Now, as an adult, the waters have been over-fished such that it is much harder to catch a lot of fish, but growing up, it would have been a challenge to have a day wasted at sea.
Crabs and shrimp make up the two primary ingredients to Wilson’s gumbo, along with other staples of southern cuisine—including okra. Like many of his recipes, they were created from intuition rather than science, with recipe lists that we forced him to write down. That is why things like “1 large onion (or more)” can be found on the list, or instruction like “season to taste.” The specific seasonings aren’t there, and to be sure, they were put into the pot—but they have been lost to time and so can only be guessed upon or, perhaps more truthfully, reflect his instructions, which are to use the seasons I prefer to suit my own tastes.
It is also worth nothing that although the recipe is written down in what would appear to be a chronological order, the reality is that it would be nearly impossible to follow as written. It is only halfway through the recipe, for instance—after having done things like cook the onion in bacon grease—that you are instructed to cook, clean, and pick out the meat from the crabs. Anyone who has done this task knows it is not simple to pick the meat out and it takes time—surely, it would have been done first in this process, but this was written down as he was thinking about it.
It is hard for me to have any gumbo that isn’t this particular gumbo. It is the gold standard against which all others are compared. None will ever come close.
Brunswick Stew
Like gumbo, Brunswick stew is a Southern traditional dish that can vary widely by who is doing the cooking. Regardless of its heritage, it was a dish that was often served for large gatherings—something that can surely be seen in this recipe from Wilson, or even more so from the cookbook that has a similar recipe from his cousin. That recipe, as it notes, was cut down from the original that called for 350 pounds of meat.
The meat itself is what is worth noting in this recipe. As written, it calls for beef and pork, but also notes that you can substitute venison in for the beef. In reality, though, you could put any meat that was available. My mom recalls one time when Wilson went into the yard, shot a squirrel, and put that into the pot to cook.
In this way, the recipe both reflects a desire to cook for a large gathering of friends—often groups of hunters or fishermen, my mom remembers—but also the utilitarian reality of needing to use the meats available. If a squirrel was there and you needed a little more meat, it would due as well as anything else.
The time it takes to cook is also a stark contrast to the cooking of today. In Wilson’s recipe, the time is as vague as the meat with his annotation at the bottom acknowledging that the secret to the recipe’s success is long, slow stewing. This is not a meal to be rushed, and in many ways reflects a pastime of a different era. The stew could be started at the beginning of a day and then cooked slowly until the evening when it would be enjoyed by the returning group of men. I have never tried to make this recipe and it would take time—not only in the kitchen, but to determine exactly how many peas are needed when the instruc
The meat itself is what is worth noting in this recipe. As written, it calls for beef and pork, but also notes that you can substitute venison in for the beef. In reality, though, you could put any meat that was available. My mom recalls one time when Wilson went into the yard, shot a squirrel, and put that into the pot to cook.
In this way, the recipe both reflects a desire to cook for a large gathering of friends—often groups of hunters or fishermen, my mom remembers—but also the utilitarian reality of needing to use the meats available. If a squirrel was there and you needed a little more meat, it would due as well as anything else.
The time it takes to cook is also a stark contrast to the cooking of today. In Wilson’s recipe, the time is as vague as the meat with his annotation at the bottom acknowledging that the secret to the recipe’s success is long, slow stewing. This is not a meal to be rushed, and in many ways reflects a pastime of a different era. The stew could be started at the beginning of a day and then cooked slowly until the evening when it would be enjoyed by the returning group of men. I have never tried to make this recipe and it would take time—not only in the kitchen, but to determine exactly how many peas are needed when the instruc
Gertrude's Special
In my family, nobody exactly knows who Gertrude was, but her recipe is a family secret that has been passed down for generations. In reality, Gertrude was probably either a family friend or, more likely, a maid or cook employed by the family. It was common up until my parent’s generation to employ someone often full time to help around the house. The person would be part family caregiver, part housekeeper, and always part chef. It’s a history that is a reality for any family with roots in the South, and so that is probably who Gertrude was, although nobody can say with any certainty.
What we can say, though, is that everyone loves this recipe. It is quite simple in execution, but a hit at any party taken. It is the perfect dessert for any occasion, and so I share this as well to cap off a meal of gumbo or Brunswick stew.
What we can say, though, is that everyone loves this recipe. It is quite simple in execution, but a hit at any party taken. It is the perfect dessert for any occasion, and so I share this as well to cap off a meal of gumbo or Brunswick stew.