Compared to famous civil rights battlegrounds like Selma, Alabama, Albany holds an unsettled place in the history of the movement.
People come from across Charlotte to eat Aunt Beaut’s pan-fried chicken at The King’s Kitchen.
Gravy is splashed twice inside the 2017 edition of Best Food Writing, edited by Holly Hughes.
When you sit down for a meat and three in Montgomery, Alabama, say at the Davis Café, you choose from the menu and you get one plate all for you, but at a Korean table in Montgomery – or anywhere – your plates are all shared. And there are many of them. Meat and six or seven, you might say.
You might think that Adam Seger was ostracized for fibbing about the origins of the famed Seelbach cocktail. But that didn’t happen.
During legal segregation, guides like the Negro Motorist Green Book advised black travelers of places they could dine safely or lay their heads while on the road. My parents had their own versions of these guides in their heads, memorized after the formal end of Jim Crow.
I think about food as a sort of genealogy, an act that remembers loved ones and keeps communities alive.
As Mexicans have made the South their permanent, instead of temporary, home, more tunes are beginning to incorporate it as a setting.
We wanted the sign state not that all are welcome, but that you are welcome.