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“Food was bussin,” declares the graffiti on the plywood wall. As the glistening juices from the pork rib I’m devouring trickle down my fingers, I can’t say I disagree. The sweet, sticky pork skin glues itself to my fingertips, while smoke wafts from the drum barbecue outside. Southern accents holler from the kitchen over the radio, while locals banter and the cash till bleeps, signalling another happy customer.
Settled at a pink Formica-top table and on a squeaky brown faux-leather seat, I’m feeling at home at Betty’s Place in the rural town of Indianola, Mississippi. This $15 (£12.65) plate of meat and two sides is proving good value. I quiz my server, Darcia, a cheerful lady in her 50s wearing big hooped earrings and a grease-stained burgundy apron, about what spices are in the rub. She taps her nose and smiles: “The rub is every chef’s secret.”
Mississippi may not top the charts as a foodie destination, but how can you not be curious about a state with a hot tamale trail and a world catfish festival? Mississippi’s Delta region is renowned for its soul food, down-to-earth African American home cooking inspired by an ability to stretch basic ingredients. On a one-week road trip, I’m learning how staples of greens, cornmeal and pork have been fused to create the extraordinary from the ordinary, and fuel my soul with the stories that created them.
It’s a crisp morning in Jackson, Mississippi’s state capital, when I meet chef Enrika Williams, wearing a bright headdress and big glasses that match the magnitude of her passion for food. We wander around Fondren, a cultural hub with multi-coloured art deco buildings, hosting locally-owned coffee shops, restaurants and bakeries. “People assume Mississippi only does one type of food, but that’s not true,” Enrika explains.
“There is a whole cultural landscape with many influences.” Eager to show me that breadth, we sample barbecued pulled pork to wood-fired Gulf Coast oysters, comeback sauce to scone-like ‘biscuits’ with gravy. Thoughtfully, Enrika buys me a bag of iced teacakes and says: “We use food to be hospitable, to tell stories, to nourish, and to heal.”
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It’s an important point as I walk along Farish Street, once a bustling hub of Black economic wealth, and reflect on the struggles for freedom and equality that had humbled me at the Mississippi Civil Rights Museum. Inside the Big Apple Inn, I’m transported to the 1960s with wood-panelled walls and orange, plastic seats. Geno Lee, a short man of Mexican heritage, greets me with a big smile. His great-grandfather, who only lasted a day picking cotton, began cooking his mother’s tamales on a tin drum across the street before opening this restaurant. Yet today, it’s known for pigs’ ear sliders.
Over the sizzling griddle and rattling extractor fan, Geno describes how his great-grandfather experimented with free pigs’ ears from the butcher, boiling them for three days until tender. “He added the ear onto a small bun, with mustard, ’slaw and hot tamale sauce, and it became a hit.” Geno explains that “in the South it’s really not a big deal, as during slavery people ate pigs’ ears, as that’s all they had.”
Nervously awaiting my slider, I hear how civil rights activist Medgar Evers ran his operations from the office upstairs. “When the freedom riders and Martin Luther King came to town, they met right here in the Big Apple,” he says, joking that “King even sat in your chair”.
Among the laughter, my slider arrives. Sinking my teeth into the pillowy bun, the crunch of the coleslaw offsets the fatty texture of the ear. Yet it’s the rich, fiery tamale sauce together with Geno’s stories that warm my heart. As I leave, Geno explains how food fuelled the Civil Rights Movement: “Food brings people together, you have a meeting and people sign up.”
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Driving into the Delta towards the town of Cleveland, between the Mississippi and Yazoo Rivers, my eyes stretch as the land flattens to endless cotton fields. The bent bass notes of the blues call out over the radio, almost in rhythm with the bumps in the road. Cleveland is renowned for the Grammy Museum and Dockery Farms, the birthplace of the blues.
At the soul-food restaurant Airport Grocery, farmers tuck into feasts of fried catfish, grilled beans and gravy fries, among nostalgic advertising signs. Waiting for me in a wooden booth is the Grammy Award-winner Tricia Walker, wearing a fashionable beret and cream scarf that hints at the unusually cold weather.
As BB King’s melancholic guitar lilts from a speaker, Tricia explains: “Mississippi is multicultural, because when African Americans were freed, the landowners didn’t have anybody to farm, so they advertised in Europe.” The fields attracted Mexicans, Italians and Lebanese, introducing foods like tamales and spaghetti. I order a hoagie – originally an Italian sandwich – the catfish filling tastes mild and earthy, with a flaky texture and cornmeal batter reminiscent of my local chippy in London. Tricia tells me about another Mississippi speciality, koolickles, which are “pickles soaked in Kool-Aid (cordial) taking on its colour and sweetness”. Later, she surprises me with a homemade cherry-red sample that has a confusing, sweet-yet-tart flavour.
In Rosedale, the Mississippi River looms with levees rising above the boundless plains. Opening the squeaky door into the cosy White Front Cafe, Barbara Pope, a slight woman in her eighties, is chatting to customers, visiting for what many consider to be the best Delta tamales. Barbara returned home after her brother’s death 20 years ago to keep the business running. She tells me she still makes 1,200 tamales a week “to get out, meet people, and keep my mind”.
Barbara opens a large stove pot, releasing a swirling aroma of chilli, cayenne pepper and paprika, and serves a bunch of three tamales onto a polystyrene plate. Mexican migrants adapted their tamale recipe, using local ingredients, like corn husks instead of banana leaf, and cornmeal for masa flour. Peeling open the rough husk, steam fogs my glasses and I squeeze the grainy paste of beef, rich with tomatoes, onto a small saltine cracker. I needn’t have worried how spicy “hot tamales” would be, because it’s the fusion of spices that bring my tastebuds alive. Like caring for her grandchildren, Barbara brings me a chilled can of locally-made Royal Crown Cola and when I ask what her tamales’ secret ingredient is, I’m told: “You have to look in a recipe book, the ingredients are all the same.”
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On my return to Jackson, after a night experiencing the blues in Clarksdale, I stop in Greenwood, once a centre of civil rights activity. Chef Taylor Bowen-Ricketts welcomes me into her kitchen at Fan and Jonny’s, named after her grandparents, who gifted her a love of food. As the evening rush begins, slabs of ribeye hit the griddle shooting flames upwards, while Taylor’s husband delicately arranges salads like a florist. “Food has been distorted to be mostly fried and processed,” she says. “But traditionally it was fresh.”
The chef’s fried catfish feels light from the fine breadcrumbs mixed with the batter, and has a sweeter flavour from gentler seasoning. Taylor hopes that “people see how fresh food makes you feel good, and when you feel good, the whole world’s better». As my fork slices through the fluffy bread and butter pudding with its crisp cinnamon topping, I couldn’t agree more.
Driving along the straight highway towards the airport, with red flashes of northern cardinals darting in search of seeds, I reflect on the relationship between communities and food. I recall Enrika’s heartfelt thoughts: “welcoming, inviting and sharing – no matter how small or big, elaborate or humble, it’s the gesture that means a lot.” Throughout my journey, I’ve felt kindness through every door, and while recipes handed down remain secret, I find myself agreeing with Enrika that “hospitality is the secret ingredient of Mississippi”.
How to get there
American Airlines flies daily to Jackson from £536 return, but you’ll need to change at Dallas, Texas or Charlotte, North Carolina. Alternatively, fly direct to New Orleans with British Airways from £599, with flights four days a week. Jackson is only a three-hour drive away.
Getting around
Hiring a car is straightforward in Jackson, with all major car rental companies located at the airport. You can use Visit Mississippi’s app to plan your trip and find good deals by booking through America As You Like It.
Yvette Cook travelled as a guest of Visit Mississippi.
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