I said from the very beginning I wanted the title to be “The Best Cook in the World,” and that really bothered her. I knew that not only were the recipes all locked away in her head, but many of the stories. Her kitchen usually smells like cornbread, like bacon grease, like collards, and almost always has a pot of something on the stove. I was in her kitchen one day when I had come home to get some clothes for her. Not only did she have to undergo a massive surgery, she had to do a year or so of chemo, so we had a lot of time over the past few years, just me and her, in hospital rooms and rehab centers. This was one of those things that just kind of made sense. You’ve written a number of memoirs, as well as books on Jerry Lee Lewis and Jessica Lynch. Bragg will be at Square Books signing the cookbook on May 5 at 5 p.m. That story (and recipe) are a part of “The Best Cook in the World: Tales from My Momma’s Table,” which comes out on April 24, a day after his momma’s 81 st birthday.
“She said, ‘Well, hon, it goes back to the time that Sis shot her husband in the teeth.’” His prose evokes the sights, sounds, and smells of a rural Alabama kitchen and transforms apparent poverty into soul-satisfying plenty.But in the hands of the Pulitzer Prize-winner who has detailed so vividly his small-town Alabama roots in books such as All Over But the Shoutin’ and Ava’s Man, you know it won’t be your ordinary cookbook, as evidenced by the answer Bragg got when he asked his mother where she got her recipe for chicken and dressing. Bragg’s translation of the uncertainties of his mother’s cooking into modern, scientific recipes may sap some spontaneity, but he generously preserves a way of life that has endured in America’s backcountry. This is genuine locavore cuisine without pretense, art without artifice. Although his momma never cooked from a book, Bragg has penned recipes to give readers essential instruction for emulating her kitchen accomplishments.
Bound by scarcity, provincialism, and personal adversity, Bragg’s momma produced remarkably good, tasty food for family and community from aging, unreliable stoves and well-seasoned, cast-iron cookware. In this case, Pulitzer Prize–winner Bragg (who previously paid tribute to his mother in All over but the Shoutin’, 1997) has credentials to back up the claim.
Many an adoring son thinks his momma is the world’s best cook, but that opinion usually springs from affection more than objective evaluation.
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