Gravy

In “An Orthodox Jewish Congregation Keeps on (Food) Truckin' in Birmingham,” Gravy producer Margaret Weinberg Norman documents the story of JJ’s Sandwich Shop, a glatt kosher deli on wheels operated by the oldest Orthodox Jewish congregation in Birmingham, Alabama. In the Magic City, food trucks are familiar, but both kosher restaurants and authentic delis are rare. Knesseth Israel, founded in 1889, is filling both gaps while exploring a surprising new way to sustain its historic congregation. Like many small Southern synagogues, Knesseth Israel faced dwindling membership, financial pressures, and questions about its future. After selling their synagogue building and parting ways with their Rabbi, the congregation chose a bold new path: to open a business. Knesseth Israel’s restaurant venture began with a vegetarian crepe enterprise called Holy Crepe, and through experimentation evolved into JJ’s, which specializes today in homemade corned beef and pastrami. On our listening journey we meet Beth Scherer Smokey, a longtime member and volunteer who led the congregation through this transformation. We also meet chef Nathan Lichenstein. Raised in an Orthodox Hasidic family in New York, Nathan once ran a glatt kosher food truck in the city and cooked for thousands of pilgrims annually in Ukraine. His move to Birmingham brought not only culinary expertise but also new energy to Knesseth Israel. His passion for good, kosher food has made JJ’s both a crowd-pleaser and a point of pride. This episode places JJ’s within the wider history of Birmingham’s Jewish foodscape, once clustered along Fourth Avenue, overlapping with the heart of the historic Black commercial district and the old Jewish neighborhood. Community historian Barbara Bonfield recalls memories of borscht, kosher butchers, and the neighborhood life that sustained Jewish Birmingham in the early to mid-20th century. This story also speaks to larger trends. In 2022, a Pew Study projected that by 2070, “nones” (those unaffiliated with organized religion) would outnumber Christians, who made up 64% of the national population at the time. Against this backdrop, Knesseth Israel’s story offers lessons for other small faith communities seeking to adapt their models to demographic realities. JJ’s isn’t just a source of revenue; it’s also a form of outreach, connecting across Birmingham’s Jewish and broader communities alike. Though they’ve reduced their footprint, JJ’s has helped Knesseth Israel gain visibility both within and beyond the Birmingham Jewish community. This is a story at the intersection of tradition and innovation, faith and food—one that shows how a small but mighty congregation found its future not by clinging to the past, but by rolling it out on a food truck. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Southern Cooking Comes to Portugal,” Gravy producer Adwoa Gyimah-Brempong takes listeners to Porto, the second largest city in Portugal, which anchors the northern region. Porto is famous for its wine and its hearty francesinha sandwiches. But this city of a quarter million people has a food scene whose depth might surprise you. Porto runs the gamut from picturesque century-old markets to hipster bakeries whose joelho pastries and glazed cornflake croissants frequently spawn lines out the door. And it’s also home to not one, but two Black Alabamian women reinventing what it means to be a Southern chef. While Gravy is a show about the changing American South, this is a story about the malleability of Southern identity—and changing American Southerners. Angela Sellers is the owner of Piccolo Cameo, a Mediterranean fusion restaurant focusing on bright, seasonal pastas. The restaurant happened almost by accident, but it has grown to be one of the city’s culinary gems. And Bridget Jones (yes, that’s her real name) serves rustic cuisine with southern charm as SouthernGal in Portugal. Her business was also not something she planned when she moved to Portugal—it felt like the universe nudged it into place. Bridget and Angela are among the thousands of Americans currently living in Portugal, as is Adwoa, this episode’s producer. Not long after Adwoa moved to Porto, a friend told her that the city felt like the opening scene of Beauty and the Beast: everybody waking up to say "bonjour" (or "bom dia," as the case may be). People's manners feel familiar to her in a way that puts her at ease.   For Bridget, that southern adjacency is also reflected in the food: Portuenses eat similarly to American Southerners, fatback and ham hock included. But Angela has found freedom in redefining what it means to be a Southern chef. In both cases, their identity is something they carried with them through customs—something that informs who they are, but doesn’t define their identity. Each of these women has lived in many corners of the world, but there’s something about the city of Porto that makes room at the table for everything they are. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “We Sure Eat Good When Someone Dies,” Gravy producer Caleb Johnson takes listeners back to August 2024, when his extended family gathered inside a Baptist church in Arley, Alabama, to mourn the loss of their matriarch—his grandmother, Celia Sampley. Before the funeral service, the church served lunch for the family, including chicken and dumplings, green-bean casserole, and plenty of desserts. A particular cake caught Caleb’s eye that day, called a pea picking cake. In this episode, Caleb steps into the kitchen of the woman who baked that memorable cake and explores how eating something sweet helps us process grief. The cook’s name is Sandra Stewart, and she was a good friend of Caleb’s grandmother. They attended Bethel Baptist Church together for many years. When it came time to bake something for the funeral wake, Sandra looked through her large recipe book. She chose a pea picking cake because all the ingredients she needed were already in her pantry. Her choice was mainly for convenience. Traditionally, recipes for pea picking cake call for using a box cake mix. The first box cake mix was created in the 1930s, but it didn’t become popular until after World War II. Caleb talks with food historian KC Hysmith about the mysterious origins of the pea picking cake and how it fits into a tradition of fancy box cakes that grew popular in the second half of the twentieth century, a time when home cooks started using more store-bought, convenience ingredients. Caleb also speaks with Dr. Candi K. Cann, a professor of religion at Baylor University and a self-described death scholar, about funeral traditions involving food around the world. She explains that these traditions help mourners revisit meaningful relationships. However, despite the close link between funerals and foodways, Dr. Cann says Americans aren’t taught how to navigate grief, partly because individualism is a key part of the Protestant faith. She believes this has led to less emphasis on communal meals like the one served at Caleb’s grandmother’s wake. *** This episode was reported by Caleb Johnson. Johnson is the author of the novel Treeborne, and a frequent contributor to the Gravy podcast and magazine. He teaches creative writing at Appalachian State University.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Virginia Public Schools Serve Indigenous Cuisine,” Gravy producer Anya Groner takes listeners to the second annual Indigenous Peoples Feast at the College of William & Mary. The evening’s menu showcases indigenous food–foraged wild rice, duck confit, acorn grits, and a four-corn stew. But these dishes aren’t just for enjoying tonight. With the help of a USDA grant, they’ll eventually be served at public school cafeterias in Virginia’s coastal Tidewater Region. Coming up with the menu wasn’t easy. Centuries of forced assimilation, land grabs, and genocide prevented cultural knowledge from being passed down through generations. Designed by Chef Diosa Hall from the Mohawk Nation and Chef Joe Rocchi from the Pamunkey Tribe, the meal combined native plants and fowl from the Eastern Seaboard with contemporary culinary trends, emphasizing the entire production process, from tiny seed to plated meal. Volunteers foraged herbs like plantain and bergamot. Hunters donated ducks. Growers harvested sustainably farmed vegetables. Scaling up the supply chain to make these ingredients available to hundreds of schools could take two or three decades. Dr. Troy Wiipongwii is the Director of Innovation and Entrepreneurship in Conservation at the College of William and Mary and a founding member of the Traditional Eastern Woodlands Foodways Alliance, the intertribal group leading this program. He says sustainable foods cost almost double to produce, but they’re worth it. Agricultural systems like food forests not only rebuild ecosystems, but they also produce nutrient-dense food that’s healthier to eat. Wiipongwii put together a K-12 curriculum integrating indigenous foodways into science, math, health, and humanities to change attitudes around food production. Chef Hall believes making native foods available in public schools will give indigenous students a sense of belonging. That’s especially important because schools haven’t always been welcoming places for Native children. For centuries, residential schools took children from Native families and forced them to learn European culture and adopt Christianity. Hall hopes the new menu she helped put together will reclaim some of the cultural practices targeted by the residential schools. Listen to find out what it will take to keep indigenous food traditions visible in the nation’s cultural landscape—and how kids rate acorn grits and butternut squash against the typical school lunch. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This week, Gravy is excited to share a special episode from a show we think you’ll love: Culinary Characters Unlocked. Hosted by David Page, the creator of Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives, the show highlights bold food makers whose stories might surprise you.  In this episode, we meet chef Marisa Baggett, a Black, Jewish, female sushi chef whose journey began in a Mississippi café where she’d never even seen sushi before. One question from a customer launched her into a new world, eventually leading her to train at the California Sushi Academy and write two cookbooks that make sushi more accessible to home cooks everywhere. Marisa’s story is one of passion, persistence, and breaking expectations—both cultural and culinary. We think you’ll be as fascinated by Marisa's story as we are.  If you like what you hear, tune in every Tuesday for new episodes of Culinary Characters Unlocked. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

While immigration is at the forefront of today’s news cycle, it’s hardly a new issue in Southeast Texas. Since the 1800s, Galveston has been a major port of entry for foreign newcomers. That pattern continues today up Highway 45 in Houston, which ranks among America’s largest destinations for refugee resettlement. While Harris County has many resources for assistance, transitioning into the workplace in a new country and culture is rarely easy for even the most skilled, educated, and adaptable English-speaking arrivals. But for those arriving from rural and agrarian backgrounds, it is even more difficult. There are few options for finding dignified work. One charity that is working to fill this void is Plant It Forward. They empower refugees to build income through sustainable urban farming businesses. Plant It Forward secures land access, provides mentorship, and facilitates sales opportunities at area markets. In this episode, we’ll take a trip to America’s fourth-largest city with Gravy reporter Evan Stern to hear about how Plant It Forward’s efforts have impacted the lives of its participants and the area’s foodscape. Teresa O’Donnell, who traces her unlikely journey from tech executive to nonprofit founder, will share Plant It Forward’s history. And CEO Nirjhor Rahman will argue that beyond helping members, Plant it Forward is introducing “a new type of farmer” to Texas’s fast-aging agricultural sector. One of these new farmers is Constant Ngouala. A native of Congo-Brazzaville, he joined Plant it Forward shortly after arriving in Houston. He now mentors new arrivals as a Master Gardener while farming his own rented plot. In addition to sharing his experiences as a refugee, he discusses the difficulties he faces as an area market farmer. What is the sustainable food movement’s viability in Houston? Gravy explores how, by working the land, Plant It Forward’s farmers may represent a continuum in keeping with the region’s culture and history. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “What's Brewing in Memphis?” Gravy producer and reporter Brandi Hunter takes listeners to Memphis to explore what it takes to build a craft beer brand in an industry where less than one percent of breweries are Black-owned, and systemic barriers continue to limit growth. Kelvin Kolheim, founder of Beale Street Brewing Company, is at the center of this episode. A former economic development executive for Memphis, Kolheim turned his hobby into a full-time business. The nuanced craft beer flavors he creates, such as King’s Ransom and Space Age Sippin’, reflect the city’s culture and complexity. Like many independent brewers in the U.S., Kolheim is navigating the economic challenges of owning and growing a business. He relies on contract brewing to produce his beer as he works toward opening his own production facility. Kevin Asato, executive director of the National Black Brewers Association (NB2A), and beer journalist Dennis Malcolm Byron, better known by his pseudonym, Ale Sharpton, provide industry and historical context for Kolheim’s experience. Byron elaborates on findings from the 2024 State of the Black Brewers report, a survey of Black brewers nationwide. He details how Black brewers face more structural obstacles than their white counterparts, including limited access to capital, equipment, and reliable distributor partnerships. Byron and Asato also discuss the through-line from centuries of racial bias to today’s lack of representation, starting with enslaved African brewers and continuing through targeted malt liquor marketing in the 1980s and 1990s. Despite challenges, Kolheim has brought a new perspective and attention to Memphis’ craft beer scene. His beer is a fast-selling local brand with plans to expand. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “There’s No Business Like Hansen’s Sno Bliz-ness,” Gravy producer Eve Troeh takes us to New Orleans, home of the sno-ball. In the South you need strategies to beat the summer heat, and ice plays a big role. Street vendors used to shave big blocks of ice by hand and add flavored syrup—a treat that became known as a sno-ball in the Big Easy. In the late 1930s, a local man, Ernest Hansen, invented a machine that changed the tradition. Sharp blades, encased in metal, turned chunks of ice into the most fluffy, fine “snow,” and he eventually patented this creation. While he kept his day job in New Orleans’ manufacturing industry, Ernest’s wife Mary ran with her husband’s invention. She set up shop at home and eventually moved to a brick-and-mortar, dishing up fresh “snow” and dousing them with signature flavored syrups that she made by hand. They called their place Hansen’s Sno-Bliz. Remarkably, Ernest’s hand-built machines are still in use today, as are many of Mary’s syrup recipes, and the business continues to cool off customers with some “air-conditioning for your tummy.” Hansen’s Sno-Bliz is now in its 86th year, with Ernest and Mary’s granddaughter, Ashley Hansen, at the helm. Ashley’s was a long and loving journey to take on the business. She learned alongside her grandparents day by day. In a city that practically worships tradition, she honors her family and her customers by maintaining not just the original 1930s ice-shaving mechanics and syrup recipes, but also by cultivating the warm hospitality her grandparents always extended to anyone who entered. The cinder block corner shop on New Orleans’ Tchoupitoulas Street looks humble, but you’ll always find a line of customers stretching outside around the corner. The James Beard Foundation even bestowed Hansen’s with its prestigious title of American Classic. New Orleanians from every corner of the city—and visitors from all around the world—eagerly line up to experience Hansen’s, and form an of-the-moment community with each other as they choose their flavors and chat. In this cool edition of Gravy, Ashley Hansen shares the history, innovation, and spirit of her family’s institution, always with Hansen’s Sno-Bliz motto in mind: “There are no shortcuts to quality.” Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Few companies have inspired more fanatical devotion among Texans than the convenience chain Buc-ee’s. Described by the New York Times as both a “Disneyland of roadside capitalism” and the “through line of America’s second most sprawling state,” its iconic, buck-toothed beaver mascot has been spotted not just on billboards, but on wedding cakes and tattooed arms of its most loyal customers. Founded as a small-town gas station, today it boasts 47 locations across the South known for massive floor spaces brimming with souvenirs, fudge, BBQ stations, cases of jerky, and walls of branded snacks like “beaver nuggets.”  Yet unlike other treasured Lone Star enterprises like Whataburger, Blue Bell, or the grocery chain H-E-B, Buc-ee’s ascendance has been a fast, recent phenomenon. They are also far from the first convenience chain to endear themselves to travelers through reliably clean restrooms, kitschy gifts and road food. In fact, one could argue they stand on the shoulders of the Georgia-born Stuckey’s, whose nutty treats sparked a mid-century rest stop empire.  Today, both brands find themselves at a crossroads. Buc-ee’s is rapidly expanding, while following years of corporate mismanagement and decline, Stuckey’s is rebuilding itself one pecan log roll at a time.  In this episode we’ll ride shotgun with Gravy producer Evan Stern as he explores how food has shaped these companies' brand identities, how they’re grappling with change, and what their stories reveal about the past, present, and future of snacking on the American road. Along the way, we’ll step inside a Buc-ee’s that sprawls over 65,000 square feet, get to know some devoted customers, and hear from journalist Eric Benson, who argues this chain has come to symbolize 21st-century Texas. We’ll also meet Stephanie Stuckey, who, following a career in politics and environmental law, now serves as the chair of Stuckey’s. She shares her grandfather’s journey from pecan broker to gas station magnate, how she envisions Stuckey’s evolving, and why the road trip remains ingrained in the company’s DNA. The resulting piece is a profile of two brands that have shaped and continue to make American highways a “corridor of consumption.” Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Oh, Snapper! Mislabeled Mississippi Seafood,” Gravy producer Boyce Upholt takes listeners to Biloxi, Mississippi—a town that has long called itself the Seafood Capital of the World. But in May 2024, shocking news hit the community: Mary Mahoney's Old French House, an iconic restaurant, pleaded guilty to conspiracy to misbrand fish and wire fraud. For years, the iconic 60-year-old establishment had been selling cheap imported fish as premium local Gulf seafood, defrauding more than 55,000 customers. What makes this story particularly fascinating is the public's reaction, or lack thereof. Despite learning they'd been deceived, loyal diners packed Mary Mahoney's after the guilty plea, with customers posting on Facebook about their continued support for “their favorite restaurant.” This unexpected response reveals the complexities of the local identity in a place that is grappling with economic and environmental change. Biloxi's seafood industry once thrived on genuine abundance. Indigenous peoples had harvested oysters here for thousands of years, and by 1904, the town earned its “seafood capital” moniker through a booming cannery industry that shipped Gulf oysters nationally and internationally. But the same forces that built Biloxi's reputation—industrialization and globalization—eventually undermined it. Imported seafood began dragging down local prices in the 1980s, and disasters like Hurricane Katrina and the Deepwater Horizon oil spill further devastated the fishing fleet. Mary Mahoney’s fraud, meanwhile, turned out to be just the tip of an iceberg. A consulting group used genetic testing and found that out of 44 area restaurants, only 8 were properly labeling their shrimp. Yet Biloxi's dining scene is also experiencing a renaissance. Chefs like Alex Perry at Vestige and Austin Sumrall at White Pillars have earned James Beard nominations while championing local ingredients and sustainable sourcing. Even at more casual spots like Bradley's—located inside a gas station—proprietors prove that serving authentic Gulf seafood can be both affordable and profitable. What parts of Biloxi’s identity matter? What does it mean, really, to be local? As Biloxi transforms from a working fishing port into a tourist destination dotted with casinos and chain restaurants, the town faces a choice about what parts of its heritage to preserve. The seafood fraud scandal serves as a mirror, reflecting not just economic pressures but cultural ones—revealing how a community that built its identity on the ocean’s bounty must now decide whether that connection still matters. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Gravy podcast is excited to share a special episode of a new podcast called Buzzkill, from our friends at FERN, the Food and Environmental Reporting Network. Buzzkill explores the dramatic decline of pollinators, including the American bumblebee, whose numbers have plummeted by 90% in just two decades. The series, hosted by Teresa Cotsilos, delves into how industrial monocultures, rampant chemical use, and unsustainable land practices threaten pollinators—and, by extension, three-fourths of the food crops we grow. This show is the first episode in the six-part series. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The Cuban sandwich. If it’s made with ingredients different from someone else’s recipe, you might find yourself in an hours-long argument in the middle of Little Havana. In Miami and Tampa, Florida, restaurant owners, historians, and Cuban Americans recount their own memories of the Cuban sandwich, as well as the story of its origins. In this episode of Gravy, reporter Kayla Stewart explores the sandwich’s long-standing origin story, new research about the Cuban sandwich, and how the South influenced the sandwich’s popularity and the current identity of Floridian Cuban Americans. Gravy thanks La Segunda Bakery, Sanguich de Miami, and Ana Sofia Pelaez, author of The Cuban Table, for contributions to this episode. Kayla Stewart is a James Beard Award-winning food and travel journalist, cookbook author, and a Senior Editor at Eater. Her work has been featured in Eater, The New York Times, The Washington Post, Travel + Leisure, Food & Wine, and others. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “A Muddy Future for Louisiana Crawfish,” Gravy producer Eva Tesfaye traces the aftermath of the summer of 2023, when a severe drought in Louisiana devastated the 2024 crawfish season. The dry soil and extreme heat killed the crawfish while they were still burrowed underground, meaning when farmers flooded their fields in the fall, they found their harvest would be dismal for the spring. That caused both farmers and consumers to suffer. In Louisiana, where crawfish are normally around $3 per pound, prices reached as high as $9 a pound. In Texas, it was even higher, around $12 a pound.   Tesfaye followed this story while it was happening, and it left her with a new question: With climate change bringing more extreme weather, are there ways to protect the state’s beloved mudbugs? To answer that question, she talked to Michael Moreaux, a crawfish farmer experimenting with different agricultural practices to attempt to produce healthy crawfish that can weather anything.   By focusing on the health of his female crawfish, using native grasses to feed them and filtering the water in his ponds, Michael seems to be producing tasty, resilient crawfish. He wants farmers and academics alike to take a look at his work, but the way the crawfish industry is set up makes it difficult for farmers to innovate, and academia doesn’t have enough crawfish specialists to solve all the problems threatening the state’s harvest.   One person interested in Michael’s methods is the young farmer Bruno Sagrera, who is struggling to break into the crawfish industry. Having grown up on a crawfish farm, he believes there are dire problems with the way crawfish are farmed today, but can’t get his family to buy into the practices he wants to try—so he’s on his own.   Both Michael and Bruno want to improve crawfish farming practices so that Louisianans can continue to eat the beloved mudbugs for generations to come. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Fruitcake in Space,” Gravy producer Bronwen Wyatt explores a bizarre footnote in the annals of human space travel. In 1968, a scientist at a military research facility developed a very unusual recipe: a nutritionally-fortified fruitcake designed as an emergency ration for astronauts. It might be easy to dismiss this fruitcake, but we’re here to argue that it’s part of a larger story—one that takes us from the early days of NASA’s space program to our current quest for Mars. Wyatt investigates the importance of safe preservation techniques in space, how NASA determines what food astronauts will actually eat, and why fruitcake actually makes perfect sense as an emergency ration.   In an archival interview from 1966, dietician Mary Klicka at the Natick Laboratory Army Research, Development, and Engineering Center points to the unique challenges of preparing acceptable menus for long-term space travel. Wyatt speaks to Vickie Kloeris, who managed NASA’s food systems for nearly thirty years from the laboratory at Johnson Space Center in Houston, and Jennifer Levasseur, a curator specializing in food at the Air and Space Museum. Finally, retired astronaut Cady Coleman shares her perspective on dining in orbit. Coleman, who volunteered for the role of "food czar" on the International Space Station, tells how food becomes a form of currency and a tool for building camaraderie among astronauts.   Kloeris, Levasseur, and Coleman emphasize that dining space is about more than the mechanical function of obtaining enough calories to survive. Even in the most barren environments, our cultural drive to bond over food is a connection to our lives on earth and part of what makes us human. The selection and preparation of food—work that is often dismissed as inconsequential domestic labor—is a crucial part of the success of any mission in space. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Got (Raw) Milk? The Small Family Dairy Farms Behind a Big Controversy,” Gravy producer Bianca Garcia takes listeners to Milky Way Farm, the last dairy in Anderson County, South Carolina, where raw milk sales are keeping the Peeler family afloat.   Their neighbors have succumbed to the pressures that have defined a generation of farmers. Between 2003 and 2022, South Carolina—where the state beverage is a glass of cold milk—lost 75 percent of licensed dairy operations. They have found their market in a niche constituency, though the wider public might disapprove. Raw milk is a risky product, often considered a public health risk.   Raw milk is unpasteurized, meaning it hasn’t been through a sanitizing kill step. Scientists worry that it can make consumers vulnerable to bacterial or viral infection, but raw milk lovers can’t get enough of the creamy taste and allegedly healthful properties.   This debate is situated in what seems to be a public health emergency. Reports of bird flu infecting dairy cattle leave public health officials worried that drinking raw milk can spread disease. Under the Trump presidency, Secretary of the Department of Health and Human Services Robert F. Kennedy Jr. has vowed to increase public access to raw milk as a part of his Make America Healthy Again agenda. Raw influencers and “tradwives” promote it endlessly on social media. Through all this noise, it’s easy to lose sense of the fact that this is an issue that starts on the farm.   In this episode, you will hear from L.D. Peeler, acting patriarch of Milky Way Farm, his daughter, Iris, and son, Davis. Each plays a role on their small family farm, which raises 120 Jersey cows: Davis works on the farm, L.D. manages the finances, and Iris does the public relations. They each have different, but entangled, stories to tell.   At Milky Way Farm, we are reminded that, just like any other food, raw milk starts with the land, the animals, and the people that make it possible. Guided by the community’s desire for a tasty and safe product, the Peelers have shaped their business to meet this need. Thus, in the face of economic pressures of the dairy industry and cultural pressures around the product, they have risen above—like the cream beneath the lid of their bottled pints. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “What’s in Store for the Pawpaw Patch?” Gravy producer Anya Groner examines the pawpaw, a long-overlooked fruit that’s now being domesticated, making its way into farmers’ markets, restaurants, and even beer. What plant has leaves that smell like green pepper, fruit that can taste like pineapple or turpentine, and bark that can be woven into baskets? Enter the poor man’s banana, also known as the pawpaw. Two decades ago, you’d be hard-pressed to find a nursery with a pawpaw tree for sale, but these days the mid-sized tree and its fruit has a near cult following. Though indigenous to the eastern United States, pawpaw trees fell out of popular consciousness for almost a century. The reason is at least in part economic. The fruit ripens and rots so quickly that it’s never been commercially viable. But, in recent years the northern-most variety of “custard apple,” a family of trees that includes the soursop and cherimoya, has had a remarkable comeback. Over two decades ago, horticulturalist Neal Peterson sparked a renewed interest in the fruit after patenting seven pawpaw cultivars, which he bred for flavor, low seed count, and perishability. Yet not everyone lauds the growing popularity of pawpaws. Dr. Troy Wiipongwii, Director of Innovation and Entrepreneurship in Conservation at the College of William and Mary, says this surge of interest could backfire, causing an overproduction of the fruit that ultimately hurts the ecosystem. And Sean Wilson, who uses pawpaws to flavor seasonal beers at FullSteam Brewery in Durham, North Carolina, worries that too much cultivation might result in a bland fruit.  So what’s next? Will pawpaws become the next “it” fruit, destined to flavor everything from soap to cocktails? Or will oversupply collapse the market and leave us with a flavorless fruit? In this episode, Groner takes us to a festival in Paw Paw, West Virginia, to explore what we lose and what we gain as America’s largest indigenous fruit, the pawpaw, is bred for market. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Flambéed! The Art & Theater of Bananas Foster,” Gravy producer Eve Troeh takes listeners to Brennan’s, the iconic restaurant in New Orleans’ French Quarter, where skilled servers pull off one sensational culinary feat, table after table and day after day—Bananas Foster, flambéed tableside. Brennan’s opened its doors more than seventy years ago, and its early years coincided with a hot trend in fine dining at the time: tableside dishes. Many know this practice, when a server wheels over a small cart to your table and makes a dish right in front of you. One of the iconic recipes in this pantheon of the tableside tradition is Bananas Foster, a rum-laden flambéed dessert that was invented at Brennan’s in 1951. Today, the dish appears on menus worldwide, and Brennan’s serves the original day and night, dazzling diners with a fiery display. The ritual of tableside dining, once a hallmark of fine establishments, originates in European opulence, where elaborate presentations convey status and sophistication. While the tradition waned in the 1960s and 70s, Brennan's steadfastly preserves it, offering not only Bananas Foster but a repertoire of tableside classics, each dish a testament to culinary craftsmanship. So what is it like to produce this “show” of Bananas Foster, day in and day out? For the staff at Brennan's, mastering the art of tableside service is a rite of passage. It takes a special kind of server to pull it off, as well as intensive training, special equipment, and a careful attention to safety as the dessert’s rum and liqueur sauce is lit. For Gravy, Troeh visits the Big Easy to speak with Christian Pendleton, general manager at Brennan’s, and Chalaine Celestain, a Brennan’s captain (or leading server) for whom tableside preparations are one part of a complex repertoire. From controlling the flames to engaging guests in the experience, she embodies the spirit of hospitality that defines Brennan's. Maureen Costura, professor of liberal arts and food studies at the Culinary Institute of America, offers historical context. Despite the occasional mishap, the allure of tableside dining endures, offering patrons a glimpse into a bygone era of elegance and charm. For Christian and his team, it's not just about serving a meal; it's about creating memories and fostering connections with each guest. In an ever-changing culinary landscape, Brennan's remains a bastion of tradition, where the art of tableside dining continues to captivate and delight. As long as there are flames to ignite and stories to tell, Bananas Foster will remain a cherished tradition, ensuring that the legacy of Brennan's lives on for generations to come. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Conch: Queen of the Florida Keys,” Gravy producer Adwoa Gyimah-Brempong takes listeners to the Keys, where queen conch is plastered across menus: conch fritters, conch salad, even conch chowder. The shells are a visual icon in Key West, even gracing its (semi-joking) flag as a sovereign nation: The Conch Republic. Which is fascinating… because conch hasn’t been fished on the island in fifty years. So where is it coming from, where is it going, and why is the culture so enduring? Conch is beloved both culturally and culinarily across the Caribbean, and the cuisine made its way to the Keys with an influx of Bahamians in the 1800s. It became a symbol of the slow way of life on the island, which chef Martin Liz points out is 40 miles closer to Cuba than it is to the nearest Walmart. It’s high in protein, easy to catch, versatile to prepare, and provides everything from building materials to precious pearls once harvested. But in the Florida Keys, conch was overfished to the point of near collapse in the 1970s and ‘80s. The reasons that it hasn’t rebounded are being studied by scientists in Florida and elsewhere, because their numbers are falling throughout the waters where it makes its home. Due to a combination of overfishing, warming waters, and changing ocean pH, it’s getting harder for conch to reach sexual maturity. And as density-dependent reproducers who grow and travel at a snail’s pace, once populations are depleted they are very slow to return. That’s a problem not just for kitchens, but for the ocean itself. As a bioengineer species that keeps seagrass beds vibrant and thriving, an ecosystem orbits around conch that spans from the tiniest algae all the way up to nurse sharks. It’s crucial for carbon sequestration, and also employs thousands of fishers around the Caribbean. Different countries have approached this in a variety of ways: many have closed seasons. The Bahamas has completely closed exports, while Jamaica recently inaugurated the first conch fishery with Marine Stewardship Council (MSC) certification. Florida Fish and Wildlife researchers are experimenting with transporting immature conch further offshore, where they can bulk up the gastropod dating pool. And Florida Atlantic University’s Queen Conch Lab, led by professor Megan Davis, is partnering with research institutions and fishers to protect conch for generations to come. In this episode, Gyimah-Brempong talks to Davis and her colleagues, as well as Gabriel Delgado, a researcher with Florida Fish and Wildlife, and Kristian Moree and Lachelle Russell, aquaculture technicians at Freeport mobile conch lab. She also interviews chefs who work with conch, including Martin Liz in Key West and Terry Eden Pratt in Grand Bahama. Michael Moxey, a Grand Bahama fisherman, tells of conch’s accessibility and an evolving way of life. United around a love and need for these large-eyed snails, island nations are both strengthening their economies and increasing their protection from ever-stronger hurricanes. Which, with any luck, will keep conch on the sea floor – and in the stew pot – for generations to come. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “South Asian Food Makes Northwest Arkansas Taste Like Home,” Gravy producer Mackenzie Martin heads back to Northwest Arkansas (NWA), where Walmart began, to look at the retail giant’s influence on the region’s demographics and culinary landscape—specifically, spurring a boom of South Asian restaurants and food shops.   Walmart is seen by some as the king of genericness. Most of the products it sells don’t have much of a regional or local spirit. Yet, in NWA, Walmart (along with other big employers) is making the community more diverse by bringing in people from all over the country, and the world. And as the population has diversified, so, too has the quality of food and restaurants.   Between 2011 and 2018, the Indian American population in Bentonville alone more than tripled. It would be easy to see the infrastructure or community resources lacking. Thankfully, in Bentonville, people are starting to step up to fill the gaps. Twenty years ago, you’d have to go to Tulsa, Kansas City, or Oklahoma City to find Indian food served in a restaurant, a four-to-seven-hour round trip. Now, there are a dozen local options, in addition to several Indian grocery stores.   To investigate the way recent immigration has influenced the quality of South Asian food and restaurants, Martin visits a local Indian restaurant, a festival at the area’s first Hindu temple, and what is believed to be the first Pakistani restaurant in the region.   Many of the transplants here tell her that the resulting community is a uniquely welcoming one. Immigrants of all kinds participate in shared activities and culture while preserving the traditions of the countries they grew up in.   This is particularly on display at BBQ King, where Indian and Pakistani dishes share space on the menu. The blending of these two cuisines and cultures here is notable, since India and Pakistan have a complicated and tense relationship that goes back generations and includes several wars. Abdullah Asif, a student at the University of Arkansas whose family owns the restaurant, says it’s not like that in the United States, though: “We’re all part of the same community here.”   The Northwest Arkansas of today is a cosmopolitan region where people from all over the world make a living and find a home. They’re making space for others but also working to preserve what makes them unique. And thanks to places like BBQ King, they now have one more place to gather and meet each other. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In “Cultivating Mexico in Northwest Arkansas,” Gravy producer Mackenzie Martin digs into the story of Yeyo’s, a vibrant family-run Mexican restaurant in Northwest Arkansas.   Here, the once-rural Ozarks are now one of the fastest-growing metropolitan areas in the country. That’s partly thanks to major employers like Walmart, Tyson Foods, and J.B. Hunt, but there are also many amenities the region offers, like a surplus of hiking and mountain biking trails and Crystal Bridges Art Museum. And as the population increases, so does the diversity of the region.   When the Rios family moved here from California in the early 2000s with dreams of owning land and starting a farm, it was a bit of a gamble. The family of Mexican immigrants says they were the first non-white family at the Bentonville Farmer Market around 2006.   Six years later, chef Rafael Rios opened a food truck, Yeyo’s Mexican Grill, named after his dad’s longtime nickname. The plan was to use produce from the farm and sell farm-to-table Mexican food. At first, he struggled—but he kept with it, and it paid off. Nearly 20 years later, the Rios family has two farms, two food trucks, a bar specializing in mezcal, and a flagship restaurant. Not to mention, Rafael Rios has been named a semifinalist by the James Beard Foundation for Best Chef: South four times.   Most importantly, though, Rios has a bigger mission than just him. He feels like diners in the U.S. aren’t very knowledgeable about the complicated, and often expensive, processes required to make high-quality Mexican cuisine, such as tortillas from scratch or really good mole sauce. That’s why he’s trying to change his customers’ perceptions of Mexican food by bringing them along with the cooking process. The restaurant kitchen is completely open, so guests see (and hear) everything happening there.   Education is a part of the job Rios willingly takes up. If a customer questions whether his tortillas are really all corn, for instance, he will literally take them back to the kitchen and show them the machine they use to shape and cut the tortillas.   He couldn’t do it without his family, though. All seven Rios siblings and their parents live in Northwest Arkansas, and 18 family members are involved with the restaurant in some way, from management to farming to dishwashing. In this episode, Rios shares his family’s journey to Yeyo’s and Arkansas’ changing food landscape. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices