Free Cornbread Nation 2: The United States of Barbecue (Cornbread Nation: Best of Southern Food Writing) by Unknown

of a larger racial divide
that runs through the middle of Texas barbecue with far more serious consequences. This division wasn't the result of intentional racism either. It's just
that, according to Texas mythology, barbecue belongs to white people.
    The pork shoulders have been smoked over hickory until the meat is as soft as
applesauce. I eat mine on a sandwich bun with vinegary sauce. Supervising
the cooking is a famous pit master named Devin Pickard who has flown in
from Centerville, Tennessee, for the occasion. "Barbecue: Smoke, Sauce, and
History" is the name of this three-day symposium sponsored by the Southern
Foodways Alliance (5FA), an affiliate of the Center for the Study of Southern
Culture at the University of Mississippi.
    The SFA brings together a diverse group of scholars, journalists, and
restaurant folk. Founding members include African American food authority
Jessica B. Harris and Southern cooking's television belle, Nathalie Dupree.
The meals at this symposium are being catered by some of the most famous
names in Southern barbecue-black and white.
    Paper plate in hand, I find a spot at one of the tables that have been set up
under the tall shade trees of the quadrangle, an open space in the middle of
the Ole Miss campus. The sandwich is delicious, although it's hard for a Texan
to comprehend that this mushy pork on a bun is considered America's purest
form of barbecue. Anyway, it gives me something to talk about in this shady grove, where a couple hundred barbecue experts have assembled to brag, debate, and pontificate on their favorite subject.

    The consensus here is that barbecue is an icon of the American South held
equally dear by blacks and whites. And as several speakers explain, in the Deep
South it is sometimes the common ground that brings the races together,
and sometimes the battleground on which they clash. The case of Maurice
Bessinger is a prime example of the latter, and a topic much discussed at the
symposium.
    Shortly after the Confederate flag was removed from the South Carolina
statehouse a couple of years ago, Bessinger lowered the giant American flags
he used to fly over his nine Piggie Park barbecue restaurants and raised the
stars and bars. It wasn't the first time Bessinger had taken a rebel's stand. In
the early i96os, Bessinger refused to integrate his barbecue joints until, in the
oft-cited case of Newman v. Piggy Park Enterprises, he was forced to by the
courts.
    Given this history of discrimination, and the fact that Bessinger also passed
out religious tracts in his restaurants claiming slavery was justified by the
Bible, the usual "regional pride" defense of the Confederate flag didn't wash.
And so blacks started protesting Bessinger's racism. As a result, national chain
stores removed his popular barbecue sauce from their shelves. Bessinger sued,
claiming his right to free speech was being violated. "This is part of my exercising my beliefs in Christ and putting out the word," Bessinger told CNN in
explanation of his views.
    The way in which barbecue and race are emotionally intertwined in the
Old South is among the most fascinating topics in food history. Among the
deeply held convictions on the subject are opinions as to whether the true
progenitors of barbecue in the American South were whites or blacks.
    Based on the etymology of the word barbecue, most scholars agree that the
cooking style came from the Caribbean, or at least that's where it was first observed by Europeans. The word first appeared in print in the English language
in 1661. In 1732, Alexander Pope was already writing about the craving, "Send
me, Gods! a whole hog barbecu'd."
    In Colonial times, barbecue had become common in the Carolinas and
Virginia. Cooking whole hogs over smoldering coals in long pits was the usual
methodology. By the height of the plantation era, no political rally, religious
revival, or civic celebration in the Deep South was complete without