Mrs. Butterworth is Dead to Me: Zeeland Street Offers Steen's Cane Syrup with Its Pancakes

 In Travels with Charlie, John Steinbeck wrote that he never ate a really good dinner at a roadside cafe or a really bad breakfast. I agree; most restaurants cook a pretty good breakfast if you stick to bacon and eggs.

Nevertheless, it is hard to find a restaurant that serves a really good breakfast--a place that serves perfectly prepared eggs, bacon, grits, and pancakes in a casual and friendly atmosphere.

Therefore, I count myself among the blessed to live in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, home of Zeeland Street Restaurant. Zeeland Street is a really good breakfast spot. Indeed, the New York Times listed this eatery among the 50 best restaurants in America. 

My wife and I ate breakfast at Zeeland Street a few weeks ago. We ordered the Zeeland Slam: bacon, eggs, grits, and pancakes. 

In the South, at least, a restaurant's breakfast can be judged by its grits, and Zeeland's grits were perfect--piping hot and lightly seasoned. I like to sprinkle a few drops of Tabasco sauce on my grits, which Zeeland provided on its condiment table.

However, what set this breakfast apart was the breakfast syrup on the pancakes. All across the nation, restaurants serve high-fructose corn syrup with their pancakes, the same stuff, in essence, that sweetens store-bought candy and soft drinks. And that syrup is generally laced with various additives.

Zeeland Street offers diners a second option: Steen's cane syrup. Steen's syrup is extracted from sugar cane, and nothing is added. Cane syrup is healthier than high fructose corn syrup, which has been linked with obesity, diabetes, and liver damage. 

Of course, eating small amounts of corn syrup won't kill you, which is reassuring, given the amount of the stuff that shows up in all kinds of processed food. If it were seriously harmful, we'd all be dead. 

Besides health considerations, cane syrup is preferable to corn syrup because it tastes better, and I'm grateful to Zeeland Street for serving it. 

Of course, excellent food is only one of the qualities that set Zeeland Street apart from other restaurants. What really makes this restaurant shine is the owner, Stephanie Phares. Stephanie is always cheerful, and her infectious laughter, which can be heard throughout the restaurant, always brightens my day.

As John Steinbeck wrote in a short story, "some element of great beauty" can be found in a hearty breakfast in the early morning. Baton Rouge can experience that great beauty at Zeeland Street Restaurant by eating the Zeeland Slam and hearing Stephanie Phares's joyous laughter. 

photo credit: Collin Richie & 225 Magazine

The Panhandler on Siegen Lane: The Student Loan Crisis and Reflections on Dorothy Day

I took the Siegen Lane exit off of Interstate 10 a few days ago and saw a panhandler standing at the end of the exit ramp. He held a sign that read: "Hungry, Need Food, Please Help." He was young, clean, and apparently well fed. Watching from my car, I saw him take a long, luxuriant drag from his cigarette.

I couldn't help but smile and think of my late mother. My mother hated panhandlers, and she especially hated panhandlers who smoked.

There are plenty of jobs available, she would say. That Siegen Lane panhandler could be working at McDonald's instead of standing on the street begging for money. And a smoking panhandler, she would point out, obviously has money for cigarettes--money he should be spending on food.

My mother was especially infuriated by panhandlers who promised to work for food. She often threatened to call their bluff by offering them a job raking leaves or some other menial chore. She didn't think anyone would accept her offer.

No--in my Mom's view--actually working is anathema to a panhandler. Panhandlers would rather loaf around on a street corner waiting for a handout than rake leaves for a meal.

I disagreed with my mother. Anyone who stands on a street corner on a hot Louisiana day is working--there's nothing easy about that.

Moreover, I discovered through experience that most panhandlers would thank me graciously if I gave them a couple of bucks, and many said, "God bless you." I think two bucks for a sincere "God bless you" is a fair transaction.

How about those smoking panhandlers? Should we boycott them?

Dorothy Day would say no. I recall reading that Dorothy once gave a homeless woman an expensive ring that had been donated to the Catholic Worker, and she was criticized for it. People said the homeless woman would pawn the ring and spend the money on drinks, and that it would have been better for Dorothy to sell the ring and use the proceeds to pay the woman's rent.

Dorothy replied that the woman could sell the ring and use the money however she liked. She might pay the rent or spend the money on a Caribbean vacation! That would be her choice.

If we insist on categorizing the needy into the deserving and the undeserving, we will wind up helping no one. Congress doesn't want to help overstressed student-loan debtors because some borrowed too much money to attend college, and some made poor choices in choosing their majors--art history instead of business, for example.

So what? Millions of former college students are burdened by crushing student loans they will never repay. Why not provide them with some assistance instead of stewing over whether or not they deserve help?

I confess, I don't always follow my own advice. I don't help every panhandler who approaches me. I definitely don't like being accosted at night by a panhandler in the Walgreens parking lot. But that guy standing on a hot street corner waiting for a motorist to roll down the car window and give him fifty cents--I say let's help him out a bit.

And so--when I saw that clean, young, and apparently well-fed panhandler standing at the roadside on Siegen Lane, I gave him two dollars.

I admit, however, that my mother's spirit came welling up within me as I handed over the money. "Those cigarettes," I chided, "will kill you."

***

 I first posted this essay in 2013.

A Retrospective Tribute to the Alaska Territorial Guard

When I was a young lawyer in Alaska many years ago, I took my young children to see the Fur Rondy Parade in Anchorage.  Conditions were not ideal on that winter day. The sky was overcast, and the temperature had dropped to 20 degrees below zero.  

The day was so cold that the marching bands sheltered inside moving school buses.  Band members would open the bus windows and stick their horns out into the frigid air just long enough to complete a tune. Then they would retract their instruments and slam the windows shut.

I judged the weather too harsh for my children to endure, so I parked the family car in an alley where we could view the parade without leaving our vehicle.

Parade participants were bundled up in arctic gear. I recall the beauty queens perched on the hoods of fancy automobiles. Their skirts were short, but their legs were encased in insulated survival pants.

About halfway through the parade, I saw a platoon of Alaska National Guard soldiers wheel around a corner, marching briskly with their M-1 rifles at port arms. They were all wearing camouflaged white jump suits, and they wore fur caps on their heads. They did not look like they were cold.

All the soldiers in that platoon were Alaska Natives, mostly Inuit, the best I could tell, and some Athabaskans.

I was suddenly moved by a burst of patriotism, and I admired these men who had sworn to defend Alaska with their lives. Did they have grievances against the white outsiders who took over their ancestral land and hauled away its natural resources--timber, gold, copper, and oil?

Perhaps they did, but on that cold day, their rugged, patriotic spirit was all I could see, and all that the soldiers wished to communicate.

Before Alaska achieved statehood in 1959, the Alaska National Guard was called the Alaska Territorial Guard. During World War II, the Inuit and Athabaskans were called up and armed to defend against the Japanese invaders who had gained a foothold in the Aleutian Islands.

I doubt that a single Alaska Territorial Guardsman held back or asked why he should risk his life in defense of the United States. Like young men all over America who enlisted in the military after Pearl Harbor, the Natives stepped up to do a dangerous job that had to be done.

President Trump will soon meet President Vladimir Putin at Elmendorf Air Force Base on the outskirts of Anchorage, Alaska. The two world leaders will search for a way to end the war in Ukraine.

It is a fitting place to meet, for American territory comes closest to Mother Russia in Alaska. Indeed, the nations are less than 3 miles apart in the Bering Straits, and the distance can be walked when the Bering Sea freezes over in winter.

Americans should pray for peace as Presidents Trump and Putin meet this week. They should also say a prayer of gratitude for the Alaska Territorial Guardsmen who rose to their duty during the Second World War.

 

Alan Dershowitz Should Leave Martha's Vineyard and Vacation in Mississippi: Fewer Soup Nazis and Better Food

Last month, Alan Dershowitz, a retired Harvard Law professor and famous conservative,  was refused service at Good Pierogi, an eatery on Martha's Vineyard. Reportedly, a vendor at the West Tisbury Farmers Market refused to sell Dershowitz a pierogi because of Dershowitz's political views. 

Indeed, according to a recent news report, Dershowitz was denied service a second time when he returned to the food vendor and again asked for a pierogi.

This is not the first time a conservative has been denied food service for political reasons. From time to time, Republicans have been ushered out of restaurants in Washington, D.C. because the staff disapproved of Republicans' political views. Thus, it is no surprise that a conservative is denied service on Martha's Vineyard--an exclusive playground of the liberal rich.

Professor Dershowitz should vacation elsewhere. He might try Florida, where a restaurateur has offered him free pierogis for life.

Liberal snobs have apparently forgotten that Black Americans were banned from white-owned restaurants and hotels in the South as late as the 1960s. Indeed, it was not until Congress enacted the Civil Rights Act of 1964 that racial discrimination in places of public accommodation was stopped.

Even then, some Southern restaurant owners refused to obey the law. Ollie McClung, owner of Ollie's Barbecue in Birmingham, Alabama, argued that the law did not apply to him because his barbecue joint wasn't engaged in interstate commerce.

In a unanimous decision, the Supreme Court rejected McClung's argument. Race discrimination at Ollie's Barbecue imposed significant burdens on "the interstate flow of food," the Court ruled, and on African Americans who traveled from state to state.

The 1964 Civil Rights Act doesn't prohibit a restaurant from refusing service based on a customer's political views. Given what happened toAlan Dershowitz on Martha's Vineyard,  the law should be amended to bar viewpoint discrimination in restaurants, hotels, and all places of public accommodation.

In the meantime, I speak for all Mississippians when I say that Alan Dershowitz is welcome at any eatery in the Magnolia State. He may not be able to find a pierogi, but we serve some damn good barbecue. 

Food vendors should not be allowed to deny service because of a customer's political views.

90-Second Book Review: You are My Sunshine by Robert Mann Reveals a Connection Between Country Music and Louisiana Politics

 You Are My Sunshine: Jimmie Davis & the Biography of a Song is Robert Mann's insightful examination of Louisiana's official state song and the Louisiana politician who claimed to have composed it.  In addition, Mann's book explores the relationship between country music and Southern politics in the 1930s and 1940s.

Like most Americans, I had long assumed that Louisiana Governor Jimmie Davis wrote "You Are My Sunshine," but in fact, he did not. As Mann relates in his book's first chapter, Davis and Charles Mitchell purchase the song's copyright from Paul Rice in 1939, along with the right to list themselves as the song's authors. 

At the time of the transaction, Davis was an up-and-coming star in the world of country music, which in the 1930s was more commonly called hillbilly music. After Davis and Mitchell purchased the song, "You Are My Sunshine" became famous worldwide and was eventually recorded by over 200 artists, including Johnny Cash, Bing Crosby, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Ray Charles.

Davis was also an aspiring Louisiana politician who would serve two terms as governor of Louisiana. As a singer and country music performer, Davis honed a folksy public speaking style and became a facile radio performer. Like Wilbert "Pappy" O'Daniel, who campaigned for the Texas Governorship with the Lightcrust Doughboys, Davis recruited his own country band to accompany him on the campaign trail.

As Mann explained, Louisiana politicians were split into two hostile camps in the 1930s and 1940s: the Long faction and the anti-Long forces. Neither group had a rigid political agenda beyond keeping the rival faction out of power. Davis was elected to the governorship in 1944, partly because both the Long and anti-Long parties found him palatable, and voters saw him as a unifier who could bring harmony to Louisiana's fractious political culture.

Davis was elected to a second term as governor in 1960. Unfortunately, his tenure was marred by his state's adamant opposition to school desegregation.  When a federal judge ordered the desegregation of the New Orleans public schools, Davis "sent a squad of State Police troopers to New Orleans to enforce a state-ordered school holiday."

As Mann pointed out, Davis was not branded as a virulent racist in the stamp of Alabama Governor George Wallace and other Southern governors of the time. Still, he was an implacable foe of integrated schools. Indeed, Davis allied himself with Leander Perez, the district attorney in Plaquemines Parish and a rabid racist whose opposition to the desegregation of Catholic schools was so strident that the Catholic Church excommunicated him.

Mann's book sketches the portrait of a flawed and complicated man. The son of a poor sharecropper in Quitman, LA, he discovered a way to advance himself through country music. He was among the first poor Southern boys who clawed their way off the farms to create a unique style of American music: Bob Wills of Kosse, TX; Elvis Presley of Tupelo, MS; Hank Williams of Mount Olive, AL; Johnny Cash of Kingsland, AR, and many others.

Louisianians should remember Jimmy Davis as a country music and gospel music star and forget his second term as Louisiana governor. He was a gifted country music artist who could not rise above the prejudices of his time.

Beto O'Rourke Can Take his West Coast Politics and Stick 'Em Where the Sun Don't Shine: The Texas Redistricting Battle

You can take your like and shove 'em on up the line.
People in Texas don't care if the sun don't shine.

Charlie Daniels

"Texas"

Texas Governor Greg Abbott recently called a special session of the state legislature to draw new boundaries for the Lone Star State's congressional districts. The legislature is controlled by Republicans, and the redistricting process is expected to conclude with more districts going to Republicans in the next election.

Democratic legislators cried foul and more than a dozen fled the state to prevent the legislature from raising a quorum. Many sought refuge in blue states--California and Illinois in particular. California Governor Gavin Newsom and Illinois Governor JB Pritzker welcomed them with open arms, accusing Texas Republicans of unfairly gerrymandering district boundaries to benefit their party.

As several commentators have pointed out, the blue states are masters at gerrymandering, with Illinois being the gerrymander in chief. Illinois redrew congressional district boundaries in 2020, which resulted in fewer Republican victories in the 2022 congressional elections.

Wealthy West Coast progressives have poured millions of dollars into Texas election battles, hoping to make Texas as blue as California.  In 2018, Robert Francis O'Rourke, a totally unqualified progressive candidate, raised an astounding $80 million in his unsuccessful bid to unseat Senator Ted Cruz in the most expensive Senate campaign in history. Much of this money came from wealthy Californians.

O'Rourke recently formed a political organization called Powered By People to raise money to help absent Texas legislators pay their expenses during their out-of-state holiday. Ken Paxton, Texas Attorney General, sued O'Rourke and his organization, accusing them of illegal fundraising in violation of the Texas Deceptive Trade Practices Act.

A few days ago, a Texas judge issued a temporary restraining order barring O'Rourke and Powered By People from aiding the recalcitrant Texas legislators. Among other restrictions, the judge's order prohibited the defendants from:

Using political funds for the improper, unlawful, and non-political purposes of (1) funding out-of-state travel, hotel, or dining accommodations or services to unexcused Texas legislators during any special legislative session called by the Texas Governor, or (2) funding payments of fines provided by Texas House rules for unexcused legislative absences. 

Ultimately, I believe Governor Abbott and the Republicans in the Texas legislature will prevail. At the end of the day, congressional district lines will be redrawn to give Republicans a better chance of prevailing in upcoming elections. 

Texans are tired of out-of-state money pouring into their state to undermine traditional Texas values. If the wealthy West Coast progressives are unhappy with the new district boundaries, they can take their unhappiness and stick it where the sun don't shine.

 

It's the Brisket, Stupid: Offset Barbecue and Francis Smokehouse Serve Very Good Texas-Style Barbecue

Barbecue, like love, is a many-splendored thing. And, like love, it manifests itself in many forms. Memphis barbecue is distinct from Carolina barbecue, which differs from the Kansas City style. 

Nevertheless, barbecue is strictly a Southern phenomenon. There is no such thing as Boston-style barbecue, and if you order barbecue in a New  England restaurant, you will likely be served Yankee pot roast smothered with a sauce made from a catsup base.

I've eaten barbecue all over the South, and it is all pretty good. However, Texas barbecue stands alone; when it's made right, Texas barbecue is the food of the gods.

What makes Texas barbecue unique from other regional varieties? What gives the Texas variety its almost mystical aura?

Texas barbecue is different because the Texans know what to do with beef, and by beef, I mean brisket. The Texans prepare brisket by cooking it with indirect heat and hardwood smoke at a low temperature for a long time--up to 12 hours. When brisket is cooked correctly, the end product is a moist, fat-infused meat with a thin, crispy crust.

Yes, you may be saying, but brisket can be prepared the Texas way anywhere on the planet. Theoretically, a Texas-style barbecue restaurant could operate in Greenland.

That may be true. But if the Texas barbecue style can be made anywhere, why can't we eat Texas barbecue in New England? 

There are three reasons.

First, it's hard to get the right wood for smoking meat outside of Texas. The ideal wood for smoking barbecue is mesquite, which doesn't grow in the United States outside the Southwest. It could be imported, but what New Englander wants to spend money shipping mesquite chips to Boston? 

Second, it's tough for a non-Texan to accept that a good brisket can take eight, ten, or even 12 hours to prepare. 

Third, most non-Texans are under a delusion that barbecue requires a lot of sauce. And that's simply not true. Indeed, Texas purists insist that putting sauce on a brisket is akin to smothering a filet in catsup.

I've sampled barbecue in Louisiana for years and finally despaired of eating Texas-style barbecue anywhere east of the Sabine River. Recently, however, I found two Louisiana barbecue joints that smoke beef briskets worthy of being labeled Texas style.

Offset Barbecue on Government Street in Baton Rouge is the real deal. Offset proclaims it serves Texas barbecue, "where Southern smoke 'meats' Lone Star flavor." As its name implies, this joint smokes barbecue with an offset firebox that slow-smokes brisket through indirect heat. Offset's brisket is as good as the premier barbecue joints in Texas--and that's saying something.

Francis Smokehouse and Specialty Meats in St. Francisville, Louisiana, also serves Texas-style brisket. I've eaten this restaurant's sliced brisket sandwich several times and always request a fatty cut of meat. The brisket is perfect. 

A couple of more comments about these Louisiana barbecue emporiums. First. I like the dining atmosphere at both outlets. Offset serves its food from a takeout window, and customers eat their meals at sun-shaded picnic tables in an atmosphere of understated elegance.

 Francis Smokehouse has decorated its dining area with deer mounts, a minimalist approach to interior decoration that I find appealing. The serving staff is as cheerful and friendly as they can possibly be.

A final word. Offset and Francis Smokehouse both serve good sides, which is also essential. It's not easy making Texas-style potato salad or coleslaw, but both restaurants got it right.

Image credit Offset Barbecue