One of the last surviving chains from the golden age of Southern cafeterias is abandoning the classic cafeteria model for buffet-style service.
"It's a completely different experience from what folks have been accustomed to," Furr's Jill Gouge Laird says of the restaurant's new Fresh Buffet concept. "Now they really control the experience."
As recently reported by the Dallas Morning News, the Texas-based chain has opened nine Fresh Buffets over the last five years, and plans to open as many as a dozen additional stores by 2012. Existing restaurants will continue to operate as cafeterias, but Laird confirms all future outlets will be structured as "scattered buffets."
What's a fair without food? Residents of Broward County, Fla., are about to find out.
As the Broward County Fair doesn't have a fairgrounds of its own, it found itself homeless this year after its previous host, the Fort Lauderdale Stadium, closed for renovations. Scrambling for a solution, the fair relocated to a shopping mall.
"We'd rather have something than nothing at all," said the volunteer who answered the fair office's phone.
The Pompano Citi Centre has plenty of space for competitions and exhibits -- the spelling bee is scheduled for a room over LensCrafters, and student gardeners will display their plants at Lowe's -- but there's no room for rides or food vendors. According to the volunteer, who identified herself as Denise, the only food at the fair will be the canned beans, pound cakes and other edibles submitted for judging.
Just as Southeastern oyster producers are clamoring for the government to stay out of their business, catfish farmers have launched a new ad campaign asking for more regulation of their industry.
Catfish farmers contend imported seafood should be held to the same stringent standards now applied to imported beef, poultry and pork. Unlike those commodities, which are inspected by the USDA, imported seafood is the domain of the FDA. According to government reports, only 2 percent of the 5.2 billion pounds of seafood that entered the U.S. last year was inspected.
"People are taking it for granted that everything's inspected, and they need to know what's going on," CFA president Joey Lowery says. "This is something that shouldn't even be negotiable, food safety for the American people."
The declining prestige of Frenchified cuisine has done little to dent the global appetite for frog legs, much to the consternation of conservationists who say the industry could soon eradicate certain species of the slippery amphibian.
A Swiss animal rights group this week called upon gourmands to boycott frog legs, comparing harvesting a frog for its thighs to killing an elephant for its tusks. But the University of Adelaide's Corey Bradshaw says the world's consumption of more than 1 billion frogs a year isn't just wasteful: It's threatening many frogs' futures.
"Just like fish, they're being unsustainably harvested," Bradshaw says. At most restaurants, he adds, "they'll be just skinned legs. They'll not be able to tell you what species they are."
That's a problem, Bradshaw adds, because nearly one half of frog species are facing extinction. Even Rayne, La., which is the world's Frog Capital, is forced to import the amphibians from China.
Acknowledging that even the most fastidious foodies can't say no to Popeye's spicy fried chicken, Dirty South Wine'sHardy Wallace has made the dish the centerpiece of what he claims is the world's first-ever online food-and-wine pairing competition.
"There are a lot of online wine tastings, but no one ever does pairings," Wallace explains. "As much as I love wine, it's useless without food."
Wallace has recruited five respected wine experts to submit their picks for the best vino to sip with Popeye's celebrated chicken, Cajun-battered fries and red beans and rice. He and 50 friends will sample the selections at a party next Wednesday; While the festivities will be live-streamed from Wallace's house, he's also urging wine-and-chicken lovers to play along at home and report their findings via Twitter.
At stake is the title of Dirty Bird King (or Queen) -- and a lifetime of potentially enhanced Popeye's enjoyment.
Growers in the nation's southernmost commercial apple-producing region are fighting a change in crop insurance law, which they claim could wipe out a 200-year-old industry.
Henderson County, N.C. -- a stretch of Southern Appalachia where the first apple trees were planted by a Loyalist on the run from the Revolutionary Army -- today generates about $24 million in annual apple revenue, representing 85 percent of the state's apple crop. But the region's 150-plus growers have been hard hit in recent years by calamities including frost, wind and hail.
Owings credits the Federal Crop Insurance Program, which reimburses growers for lost apples at a rate of $9.25 a bushel, with keeping area orchards solvent. He's worried a new proposal to significantly lower disaster payouts for lesser-grade apples could prove devastating.
The nation's only Giant Omelette Celebration will mark its 25th anniversary this weekend by adding one more egg to its 12-foot skillet.
The town of Abbeville, La., in 1984, joined the confederation of seven cities from Argentina to Belgium that annually commemorates Napoleon's order for a tiny town in southern France to produce an army-sized omelette. Bessieres upheld the tradition long after Napoleon's troops had gone, cooking oversized omelettes at Easter to feed the poor. The practice has thrived in places where locals fret about losing touch with their Francophone heritage.
But that doesn't mean the Abbeville cooks are entirely faithful to the recipe favored by Monsieur Bonaparte: Festival president Gordy Landry reports, "we add a Cajun flair."
"Most of the other giant omelettes are a little bit plainer and not quite so tasty," he continues. "In France, they just stick to the eggs. In Canada, they add some ham. But the only place that puts crawfish in is us."
Years after the nation's last Kenny Rogers' Roasters served its final bird, country music stars are again making a play for their fans' food dollars.
Perhaps because so many of them hail from the South, where good cooking is considered sacred, country celebs have long been inordinately fond of the eponymous restaurant ventures. Once as critical to an Opry member's cred as a Nudie suit, signature restaurants have lately been on the wane, with once-proud institutions such as Twitty Burger and Minnie Pearl Fried Chicken going the way of the cassette tape. But a series of openings set for this fall suggests country musicians may still harbor culinary ambitions.
White-hatted crooner Alan Jackson doesn't have an endeavor of his own, but showed up this week at a Nashville area Cracker Barrel to introduce a new line of spices, clothing and home goods, including an Alan Jackson rocking chair. According to Jackson's spokeswoman Nicole Dona, the singer likes to take his daughters to the homestyle chain.
"The family will still stop now and then when they are on their way back from the lake," she writes in a e-mail to Slashfood. "He loves the breakfast and also the meatloaf sandwich."
After spending more than two decades in development, a mandarin hybrid that some fruit experts are calling "the best thing they've ever eaten in the world of citrus" is now on the market, albeit in limited quantities.
When Gmitter joined the Florida faculty in 1985, he discovered his predecessor's experimental citrus groves had been destroyed. Only a block's worth of trees remained, and most of those were "ugly to look at and horrible to eat." But among the duds, he found a tree growing superb orange fruit. He and his colleagues used that tree to create the university's first-ever cultivar.
Since citrus breeding is slow going, the introduction of new varieties is relatively rare. But Peter Chaires, executive director of the company that holds licensing rights to the Sugar Belle, says the fruit could mark the start of a citrus golden age.
"This is the first one out of a long pipeline," Chaires says. "We have some interesting things coming, including an easy-peel mandarin. We'll see varieties for fresh consumption, varieties for the juice market and a lemon-lime hybrid."
Recipe writer Debbie Moose laments not having linguica on hand for a proper caldo verde, a soup she swears is perfectly suited for fall in the Southeast.
Triangle-area foodies go gaga for a Puerto Rican eatery nestled in the rear room of a suburban tchotchke shop selling scented candles and Raggedy Ann dolls.
Ever want to tell Food Network star and TGIFriday's pitchman Guy Fieri where to go? The Observer reader who submits the best essay on which three area restos Fieri should patronize during his visit later this month will win two tickets to his show.
The state of Louisiana, which produces one-third of the nation's oysters, has mustered the first quasi-official response to new FDA guidelines banning the sale of unprocessed Gulf oysters from April through October.
The strict new rules, designed to combat the deadly Vibrio vulnificus bacteria that swarms in warm water, require Texas, Florida and Louisiana oyster processors to freeze, heat, radiate or pressurize their oysters. But oyster connoisseurs worry their favored bivalves won't be the only casualty of post-harvest processing; Insiders suspect the law will also kill the Gulf coast's oyster industry.
There are statues of Colonel Harland Sanders standing sentry at KFC outlets across Asia, but the town where the legendary restaurateur opened his first café has long resisted memorializing the man many locals consider a fast-talking, two-timing scoundrel.
"There are a lot of people here who knew him from way back," sighs Suzie Razmus, newly appointed chair of the Corbin (Ky.) Tourism Commission. "How can I say this? He wasn't exactly ..."
Universally beloved?
"Yes, exactly," Razmus says, with the obvious relief of a publicity pro saved from uttering something more damning. "You hear stories about women and his colorful language that didn't sit well with a small conservative town. There are still people here that say he owes their great-aunt money, or he fired their grandfather."
A pair of Cajun seasoning companies whose names allude to domestic rough-housing are now preparing to scuffle in court.
The makers of "Slap Ya Mama" last week sued the entrepreneur behind "Punch Ya Daddy," claiming the upstart brand infringes upon their trademark. William Stagg, attorney for the plaintiff, says it's not what's in the cartons of Kirby Falcon's proprietary South Louisiana spice blend that concerns his client: It's the name and logo emblazoned on their labels.
"We don't really know what the recipe is, but we believe the packaging and image my customer has created for Slap Ya Mama is unique," Stagg says. "We believe this brand is calculated to capture our market."
Falcon's attorney did not return calls seeking comment.
According to a June story in Houma Today, Falcon developed his seasoning mix in 2007 while working the grill at his strip-mall lunch counter. He found a name for his product after his 4-year-old son yelped, "I'm going to punch ya, daddy." Punch Ya Daddy is now sold in more than 100 stores across Louisiana.
Sweet potato pie is a Southern food superstar, immortalized in song, celebrated in literature and beloved by American food authority President Barack Obama, who confidently called the filling his favorite while on the campaign trail. And then there's sweet potato cake.
Sweet potato cake is so thoroughly obscure that René Simon, spokesman for the Louisiana Sweet Potato Commission, claims he's never tried it: "I've lived in South Louisiana all my life, and I don't think I've ever had sweet potato cake," Simon tells Slashfood.
According to him, the Pelican State's sweet potato scene is all pie, all the time. "Here, America means mom and sweet potato pie," Simon says.
A new documentary chronicling Arkansans' infatuation with cheese dip has inspired a surge of statewide pride in what might be the region's signature dish.
Since Nick Rogers' short film "In Queso Fever" was featured on the Oxford American's Web site this fall, he's been making the local talk show rounds, reminding fellow Arkansans that their beloved Velveeta and Ro-Tel delicacy isn't widely available beyond the state's borders.
"Everyone's just shocked that if they were to travel extensively throughout the U.S., they wouldn't be able to get cheese dip," says Rogers, who works as an attorney in Little Rock. "The reaction I get from everybody is we had no idea cheese dip wasn't such a big deal everywhere."
Cheese dip is such a big deal in Arkansas that the Arkansas Times includes a cheese dip category in its "best of" readers' poll – and regularly receives more votes in that category than any other. When Conway native Kris Allen was named as an "American Idol" finalist, his hometown Stoby's Restaurant awarded him free cheese dip for life -- a prize many Arkansans likely considered better than a record contract.
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