The drummer and frontman on food and
music, his friendship with Anthony Bourdain and much, much more
What we know as southern soul food, which was primarily survival food for a lot of black people in the US, has now become pricey. If you go to Sylvia’s in Harlem, the chances are it will be filled to the brim with tourists from Australia and Japan. Pretty much the exact meal we had as a family decades ago in Philadelphia now has a bill of $300-$400. Meanwhile, there’s a generation of the inner-city poor who survive pretty much on take-out Chinese now.
Our biggest family meal was Thanksgiving. The process always started on a Thursday, when my aunts used to soak the dessert in brandy or sherry for three days. On Friday they’d do the meats and on Saturday the vegetables. I’d snap the beans while watching Soul Train, or National Geographic, with my Uncle Jim. On Sunday it was church. Then, at 4pm, 16 of us could start having the feast. The problem was how obedient me and my cousin were in the run-up to it. How you didn’t fight over licking the leftover cake batter or frosting off grandmother’s spoon and never touched the pies or cobbler. If you were going to sneak a scoop of ice cream from the refrigerator you’d better pray no one saw you.