“Shall I count the ways that my love for barbecue is the real, true thing?” asks Adrian Miller in Black Smoke: African Americans and the United States of Barbecue.
“Whether it’s ‘pork shoulder with outside brown’ from the Carolinas, rib tips, hot links, and fries from the South Side of Chicago, ‘burnt ends’ and pork spareribs from Kansas City, pork steaks in Kentucky, coleslaw-topped pork sandwiches and barbecue spaghetti in Memphis, snoots (pig snouts) and turkey ribs in St. Louis, or brisket, boudain (a variant spelling of boudin, a Louisiana meat and rice sausage) ... chopped beef, and hot links in Texas, I’d eat some version of barbecue every day,” he attests, “if it weren’t for some predictable health consequences.”
Clearly, this is a barbecue connoisseur who has done diligent nationwide research in his field of expertise: “[More] than two hundred restaurants,” which he admits “wasn’t hard.”
Mr. Miller has written two other books about Black culinary history: Soul Food: The Surprising Story of an American Cuisine, One Plate at a Time and The President's Kitchen Cabinet: The Story of the African Americans Who Have Fed Our First Families, from the Washingtons to the Obamas. The Denver native’s eclectic resume includes working as an attorney, and also serving both as a special assistant to President Bill Clinton and as a senior policy analyst for Gov. Bill Ritter, Jr., of Colorado.
More relevant to his current project, he’s a board member of the Southern Foodways Alliance, a Kansas City Barbecue Society-certified judge, and was a consultant to Chef’s Table: BBQ on Netflix.
Despite his devotion, Mr. Miller’s latest book is not merely a fawning ode to the culinary alchemy that is created when seasonings, sauces, smoke, and skill combine with time, patience, and love to produce barbecue.
Black Smoke delves deeply into the mostly-neglected history of this revered art form and the succulent food it produces.
The story begins with the “foundational presence” of Native American outdoor cooking styles in pre-colonial times, which Christopher Columbus and his crew first witnessed when they encountered the Taino community in the Caribbean.
The explorers saw unfamiliar equipment and food preparations, such as piercing sticks (wooden poles stuck in the ground and angled toward a fire), a spit rotating over flames, raised platforms for slow roasting, vertical holes (“otherwise known as ‘earth ovens’”), and shallow pits.
Mr. Miller illustrates how these techniques “got mashed up with African and European ways of cooking and seasoning meat” as those who’d been enslaved adapted and refined the processes. By the late 19th century, they and their descendants were considered the “primary experts and ambassadors” who “made the best and most authentic barbecue.”
But then the book confronts contemporary racial disparities, addressing the “current media exclusion” of “Black barbecue brilliance.”
In 2004 Mr. Miller was watching Paula’s Southern BBQ on the Food Network, during which celebrity chef Paula Deen “recalls the colorful history of down-home Southern barbecue as she travels through Georgia, Texas, Tennessee and Kentucky” (per TV Guide).
“[It’s] more about what I didn’t see than what I saw,” the author writes. The show only featured such notables as Scott Jones, food editor for Southern Living magazine, and competitive barbecuers Jim Johnson of the Mile High BBQ Team and John Wheeler of Natural Born Grillers. Not one Black person was shown as an expert or authority.
Mr. Miller also points out Fox News’ 2015 list of “America’s most influential BBQ pitmasters and personalities,” who were all “certainly accomplished ... and white.” Consider, too, well-known television cooking show host Steven Raichlen, whose website claims he is “the man who reinvented modern barbecue.”
So what caused this progressive marginalization over the course of a century? The author assesses six separate factors, from gentrification to culinary appropriation to chefs entering the domain, which created a perfect storm by the 1990s “for a media blackout,” such that the “lack of African American representation in barbecue was glaring.”
But all is not lost.
“I see African Americans continuing to barbecue for their churches, family, friends, social networks, and workplaces” in a variety of settings, Mr. Miller writes. (Be sure to see the sidebar for a list of Toledo’s popular Black-owned barbecue enterprises to support.)
And Black Smoke contains 22 recipes which demonstrate, duly credit, and share the traditions and varieties of barbecue, including ribs, pork belly, the Sioux Chef’s Grilled Bison Skewers, whole hog barbecue, wings, brisket, chicken, and the sauces used to baste them. The essential elements to round out a meal — side dishes and sweets — are also offered.
“Black Smoke endeavors to reorient barbecue’s future in the United States to be much more like its past: delicious, diverse, fun, and appreciative of African American contributions,” Mr. Miller writes.
And then he offers an enticing invitation: “Please join me at this cookout.”
Freddie Wheeler’s Hot Honey Sauce
Adrian Miller writes that “Freddie Wheeler, the late founder of Freddie’s Southern Style Rib House in Cleveland, Ohio, inherited this family recipe from his grandmother, who belonged to the Blackfoot Nation and lived to be 107 years old.” The secret to the sauce is the same for making great barbecue: Cook it low and slow.
1 29-ounce can tomato sauce
¼ cup yellow mustard
2 cups water
1 cup cider vinegar
1 cup honey
⅓ cup packed light brown sugar
1 large onion, minced
Juice of 1 lemon
1 tablespoon coarsely ground black pepper
1 tablespoon chile powder
2 to 3 teaspoons red pepper flakes
In a large saucepan, whisk together the tomato sauce and mustard. Stir in the remaining ingredients. Bring to a boil.
Reduce the heat to low and simmer for 1 hour, stirring occasionally and tasting to adjust seasonings.
Serve warm. Store in jars in the refrigerator.
Yield: Makes 7 cups
Source: Adrian Miller, Black Smoke
Johnetta Miller’s Banana Pudding
This classic dish, from Adrian Miller’s late mother, is a prime example of what he calls “essential, barbecue-meal-ending-the-right-way-kind-of-dessert recipes.”
For the pudding:
¾ to 1 cup sugar (see note)
½ cup all-purpose flour
½ teaspoon salt
4 cups whole milk
4 large egg yolks
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 11-ounce box vanilla wafers
Flesh of 8 fairly firm bananas, peeled and cut crosswise into slices (your choice of thickness)
For the topping:
4 large egg whites
½ teaspoon cream of tartar
½ cup sugar
To make the pudding: Heat a few inches of water in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat.
Fill a heatproof bowl with the sugar (to taste), flour, and salt, then place it on top of the saucepan so that it fits snugly. Reduce the heat to medium, and pour in the milk. Cook, whisking constantly, so that the mixture becomes well combined and smooth.
Lightly beat the egg yolks in a liquid measuring cup. Whisk a few tablespoons of the hot milk mixture into them (to temper them), then whisk that egg mixture into the heated bowl. Cook for a few minutes, whisking, until slightly thickened, then remove the bowl from the heat. Stir in the vanilla extract. This is your custard, which will thicken further as it cools yet will still be pourable.
Preheat the oven to 350F. Have a 9- by 13-inch baking dish at hand; make sure it’s at least 2 inches deep. (His mother “liked to bake the pudding in a clear dish, to show off the layers,” the author notes.)
To make the topping: Combine the egg whites and the cream of tartar in the bowl of a stand mixer of handheld mixer; beat on low, then medium-high speed, until frothy. (Mrs. Miller “liked to chill her mixer beaters in the freezer before using them,” her son writes; “she said it helped create a stiffer meringue.”)
On medium-high speed, gradually add the sugar to form a meringue that holds stiff peaks.
To assemble: Create a single layer of vanilla wafers in the bottom of the baking dish. Use half of the sliced bananas to create a layer covering the wafers. Spread half of the custard over the bananas. Repeat those three layers, ending with the custard.
Spread the meringue topping so that it covers the custard entirely; swirl it decoratively to make it look nice. Bake on a rack in the center of the oven for 15 minutes or until the meringue is lightly browned in spots.
Let cool completely, then refrigerate (with a tent of foil over the top that does not touch the meringue) for at least 2 hours or until well chilled.
Note: “The custard is pretty sweet when you use a full cup of sugar, less so when you use ¾ cup,” Mr. Miller writes.
Yield: Makes 12 servings
Source: Adapted from Adrian Miller, Black Smoke
First Published May 23, 2021, 12:30 p.m.
