The Food We Eat, the Stories We Tell: Contemporary Appalachian Tables ed. by Elizabeth S. Engelhardt with Lora E. Smith (review)

This book brings together twenty-one authors who write about Appalachian food and culture. Don't look here for recipes; this is food literature, food studies, and food history. I've been writing about Appalachian food for thirty years; however, in these 207 pages I learned about the Kentuckians of Michigan, the tobacco season, and where in Detroit one can find an Appalachian meal. When I finished reading, I felt I had read a love letter to Appalachian food.

Beyond food, these authors discuss issues of race, education, and the Old World. They give new life to the food of the last century as it relates to family, religion, and community. Here we get to know Danille Elise Christensen, a teacher in Appalachian Ohio, who goes "creeking" to find "salamanders, and crawdads." And we learn that Appalachia has more than four hundred wineries.

In chapter 6, Annette Saunooke Clapsaddle compares the social aspects of an Appalachian potluck dinner with a Cherokee tribal dinner. At a typical Appalachian gathering Clapsaddle says, kids go first and help themselves to "beige carbohydrates." By contrast, at tribal gatherings, elders go first; and among the elders there is a further demarcation of the serving order. The Headman or Headwoman are to be "seen, heard, and followed." However, in this chapter, while we learn about the serving order and the role of elders, Clapsaddle says nothing about the food the Cherokees serve. I wonder if they serve Western food such goulash or traditional Cherokee dishes made with beans, squash, and corn, or whether they maybe serve a mixture of both?

In chapter 8, we share the conflict that Michael Crowley experiences as he lives a life divided by two cultures, Korea and eastern Kentucky. On his first visit to Korea, at age sixteen, the food was a shock; but in America, he is not American. He embraces Kentucky but feels that his new home is overshadowed by his mother's ties to Korea. My experience was different. When I moved to Pikeville, Kentucky, in 1975, it became my new home, and I developed a high regard for the food and culture. Now I make soup beans and cornbread. I make the bean dish with dried pintos and smoked ham hocks. Then, I bake a corn pone and I have a nutritious and filling dinner.

Chapter 12 is titled "Cornbread and Fabada." Fabada is the Spanish word for bean stew. Here, Suronda Gonzalez tells a story of struggle and survival as she talks of growing kale destined for a pot of bean and ham soup. We learn that in the 1950s her grandmother derived great joy from going to their cellar and seeing row after row of preserved food from fruit jams to canned green beans and open stone crocks of pickled corn. Her family worked together to fill bins with potatoes and to string apples that might be used for a dried apple stack cake. She goes on to say that the family's survival depended on her father's work above and below ground and on her mother's work raising children and keeping house.

While The Food We Eat and the Stories We Tell lacks an index and could be organized into thematic sections such as "family" and "land," it will nonetheless be enjoyed by many as a celebration of Appalachia, Appalachians, and food.