People sometimes don’t understand why we love food so much. It’s a great debate that I don’t usually have a well-constructed position on, save for one exception. Unlike anything people involve themselves in that isn’t a form of secular work or family time, things considered as hobbies, extra-curricular activity, even time wasters aren’t a basic human need the way eating is. We just choose to survive in a more taste conscious manner. Everyone in the world has to eat, but not all take it in as a possible existential experience. I will never share the philosophy that life, whether free or not, is just about three hots and a cot.
This leads me to my own personal heritage. I’ve lived smack dab in the center of Florida my entire life. According to our tree and the U.S. Census, my father’s side migrated to Polk County from Georgia in the early 1800’s. Before that was South Carolina for a stint. Before that we landed in Virginia around 1665. It’s safe to say I have deep seeded roots planted in the South. As any self-respecting son of a Florida cracker (my Dad actually worked much of his early life on different farms and cattle yards, raised his own livestock and studied veterinary medicine, so he was the real deal), the cuisine I love, the food I crave like a magnet are the things my mother fed me, the recipes she learned from my dad’s mom, who was taught by his grandmother, the person we affectionately referred to as little meemaw due to her slight stature. I think there’s only one photo I have of us together as she died shortly after my birth, yet I think of that photo every time I eat cornbread and black-eyed peas as she was the touchstone for the cooking history of the Crumpton family in the modern era.
I can’t speak for them, but I do know a bit about Greg and Michelle Baker. Not enough to be a stalker but almost enough to be a newspaper restaurant reviewer. They too are Florida natives and hold their history and that of each of their families history very dear to their hearts and stomachs. I don’t mean to speak out of turn regarding family matters I know nothing about, but I can’t help to think they might share a similar fondness for each of their Meemaws home cooking. If I had to wager a bet, I would guess much of it was done on well-seasoned cast iron skillets.
Obviously, Florida cracker cuisine is dear to them. They just opened a shrine to honor the cuisine that I feel has been recreated oh so poorly in our area over the course of my adult life.
I had to leave the Raschke brothers sitting at the table immediately after the inaugural meal on opening night at Fodder and Shine. They without question were probably still debating old school punk rock and hardcore, wondering if there were other punk rock foodies in the Bay area other than ourselves.
While they were still seated, I walked to my car and just sat there for a couple of minutes in silence, thinking mostly about my dad and how much I was still missing him after nearly 2 rough years without him. Wondering how much he might have liked eating all the food of his life encapsulated in this single restaurant, and how he definitely would not have written this place off his list. He introduced me to fried gizzards, smoked mullet roe, frog’s legs and many more things F&S have added to their repertoire. I began to drive away with tears in my eyes, moved by the thought of food and how it has been such a large part of what I hold near to remember all those loved ones who have passed away.
Our recipes are sometimes the only thing we have that helps keeps those memories alive. I’ll never be a wealthy person because I don’t come from money. I don’t plan on having some large inheritance somewhere down the line, yet I feel rich with recipes that have been passed down through my family. Now that I finally pried it from my mom’s hands after about a decade of begging, I sure as heck will never be without my meemaw’s chewy cake recipe or the way my Nana makes her neck bone spaghetti.
The Bakers have captured the feel of centuries old Florida cooking with every keystroke of that menu, and they’ve succeeded in executing the cooking process, even in things that might seem small to the untrained eye. Right down to the perfect coloring and doneness on a side of sautéed zucchini squash, it’s all as I remembered it. It’s not 100% old school though and it shouldn’t be. Greg is still a chef for goodness sakes, and for me, good cheffing is about three key things, which he possesses moreso than almost anyone I’ve met.
1. Constant progression
2.Teaching others what you know
3. Respect for tradition.
Fodder and shine is the perfect place to use as equilibrium.
The feel and size of the space is our main and only concern. It’s massive and feels like a modern restaurant and not a place my meemaw might be cooking back in the kitchen. I think this kind of restaurant really belongs in a more intimate setting, more like in a house turned into dining establishment. My idea is flip-flop The Refinery and Fodder.
If you are a Florida native, I hope you have your own wonderful food registry that’s been passed down from generation to generation. If not, take a trip over to Fodder and Shine to see what you’ve more than likely been missing. And if you are a transplant just putting down roots down here, or maybe you’re just passing by, I sincerely hope you get it, even if these traditional preparations are not in your taste memory bank.