By Adam Rabiner
Film maker Byron Hurt’s central question in his documentary about America’s relationship to soul food is “Are we addicted to it? Are we a nation of soul food junkies?” Byron grew up eating soul food until he rebelled in college. While remaining Christian, he was deeply influenced by Nation of Islam leader Elijah Muhammad’s book, How to Eat to Live, which rejected tobacco, alcohol, pig, and advocated fasting and eating only one meal a day.
Byron later became fascinated with this question after his soul food loving father, Jackie Hurt (Pops), died of pancreatic cancer in 2007 at 63. He goes to the Deep South (retracing childhood family road trips from New York City to Milledgeville, Georgia) interviewing the food’s fans, both black and white, as well as its detractors, like comedian Dick Gregory, founder of Health Enterprises, Inc. He visits a college football tailgate party in Jackson, Mississippi where a group of celebrants gathered hours before the game. Displaying typical southern hospitality, a reveler asked him to try something from the “junk pot,” a simmering stew containing corn, potatoes, pig ears and feet, and turkey neck. “I’m good” Byron declares, to little avail. Eventually, after much pressure, he reluctantly retrieves from the kettle the least offending item he can find, a greasy corn on the cob, which is still not good enough for the gathering crowd, one of whom orders, “Get that turkey neck.” Finally he gives in and takes a tentative bite, confessing, “It was delicious.”
And that is the thing about many foods that are bad for you. They taste good. Soul Food Junkies begins by describing Byron’s childhood diet: grits, bacon, eggs and cheese, corn bread and toast lathered in butter, sweet potato pie. This is comfort food. To Byron and others it is deeply associated with family and friends, home, childhood, church, Sunday mornings, connections, traditions. It was hard for young Byron to leave this behind and his father, despite gradually growing heavy and sick from this diet, was never able to give it up. In fact, he took his son’s rejection of this food personally and it became a long-standing source of friction between them.
Soul Food Junkies explores the personal story in home-movie footage and current interviews with his mother (who has learned to prepare soul food in a healthier way), his sister, who is now the most health conscious member of the family, and his father’s younger brother, Tony, who grows his own vegetables without the use of chemicals. The film seamlessly weaves history into this personal narrative as it delves into soul food’s roots in Africa and the Caribbean. Soul food gradually migrated from the slave kitchen to become part of a southern culinary culture enjoyed by both blacks and whites alike.
Towards the end of the film, Soul Food Junkies covers more mainstream and familiar topics such as the larger problem of food desserts which it daringly decries as institutional racism and 21st Century genocide, echoing Elijah Muhammad’s derisive comments about soul food being slave’s food. It briefly explores solutions such as urban gardens and experiments like bodegas serving fresh fruit.
Byron finally concludes that indeed a substantial number of Americans are “Soul Food Junkies.” But this need not be a prescription for poor health. As Byron’s mom prepares skinless grilled chicken, makes collard greens without the ham hocks, sautés spinach and steams brown rice, you realize that Americans, with some minor tweeks to traditional recipes, can have their cake and eat it too.
Film maker Byron Hurt’s central question in his documentary about America’s relationship to soul food is “Are we addicted to it? Are we a nation of soul food junkies?” Byron grew up eating soul food until he rebelled in college. While remaining Christian, he was deeply influenced by Nation of Islam leader Elijah Muhammad’s book, How to Eat to Live, which rejected tobacco, alcohol, pig, and advocated fasting and eating only one meal a day.
Byron later became fascinated with this question after his soul food loving father, Jackie Hurt (Pops), died of pancreatic cancer in 2007 at 63. He goes to the Deep South (retracing childhood family road trips from New York City to Milledgeville, Georgia) interviewing the food’s fans, both black and white, as well as its detractors, like comedian Dick Gregory, founder of Health Enterprises, Inc. He visits a college football tailgate party in Jackson, Mississippi where a group of celebrants gathered hours before the game. Displaying typical southern hospitality, a reveler asked him to try something from the “junk pot,” a simmering stew containing corn, potatoes, pig ears and feet, and turkey neck. “I’m good” Byron declares, to little avail. Eventually, after much pressure, he reluctantly retrieves from the kettle the least offending item he can find, a greasy corn on the cob, which is still not good enough for the gathering crowd, one of whom orders, “Get that turkey neck.” Finally he gives in and takes a tentative bite, confessing, “It was delicious.”
And that is the thing about many foods that are bad for you. They taste good. Soul Food Junkies begins by describing Byron’s childhood diet: grits, bacon, eggs and cheese, corn bread and toast lathered in butter, sweet potato pie. This is comfort food. To Byron and others it is deeply associated with family and friends, home, childhood, church, Sunday mornings, connections, traditions. It was hard for young Byron to leave this behind and his father, despite gradually growing heavy and sick from this diet, was never able to give it up. In fact, he took his son’s rejection of this food personally and it became a long-standing source of friction between them.
Soul Food Junkies explores the personal story in home-movie footage and current interviews with his mother (who has learned to prepare soul food in a healthier way), his sister, who is now the most health conscious member of the family, and his father’s younger brother, Tony, who grows his own vegetables without the use of chemicals. The film seamlessly weaves history into this personal narrative as it delves into soul food’s roots in Africa and the Caribbean. Soul food gradually migrated from the slave kitchen to become part of a southern culinary culture enjoyed by both blacks and whites alike.
Towards the end of the film, Soul Food Junkies covers more mainstream and familiar topics such as the larger problem of food desserts which it daringly decries as institutional racism and 21st Century genocide, echoing Elijah Muhammad’s derisive comments about soul food being slave’s food. It briefly explores solutions such as urban gardens and experiments like bodegas serving fresh fruit.
Byron finally concludes that indeed a substantial number of Americans are “Soul Food Junkies.” But this need not be a prescription for poor health. As Byron’s mom prepares skinless grilled chicken, makes collard greens without the ham hocks, sautés spinach and steams brown rice, you realize that Americans, with some minor tweeks to traditional recipes, can have their cake and eat it too.