{"title":"吉姆·卡萨达的《捕鸡:烟熏食物回忆录》(书评)","authors":"Laura Michelle Diener","doi":"10.1353/wvh.2023.a906881","DOIUrl":null,"url":null,"abstract":"Reviewed by: Fishing for Chickens: A Smokies Food Memoir by Jim Casada Laura Michelle Diener Fishing for Chickens: A Smokies Food Memoir. By Jim Casada. (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2022. Pp. ix, 336.) Jim Casada, a former historian at Winthrop University, has devoted the second half of his career to promoting the unique regional flavor of the Smoky Mountains, a distinct area too often lumped into the umbrella of southern Appalachia. Using the geographic description posited by nineteenth-century explorer Arnold Guyot, Casada argues that the Smokies of western North Carolina and east Tennessee along with some neighboring mountain chains such as the Blacks and the Snowbirds, possess a unique subculture, one dying out as the conveniences of modernity replace traditional folkways. In an effort to preserve and celebrate those traditions, Casada has authored and coauthored multiple books relating to hunting, [End Page 118] fishing, and storytelling. In his latest, Fishing for Chickens, Casada has produced a hybrid work that blends several genres—childhood memoir, regional history, folk study, and cookbook—into a toothsome concoction of mass appeal. One could easily do a quick taste to sample the recipes, but the rich flavor derives from the memories behind them. Forgive the puns, but Casada’s easy folksy language promotes an informal intimacy with the subject, one of the book’s many charms. Fishing for Chickens serves as an homage to his mountain boyhood as well as a love letter to his mother and grandmother, whose “recipes” feature throughout the book—recipes being in quotes because he never recalls those women measuring or writing anything down. Their cooking thus can’t truly be replicated, and in all honesty, much of it probably shouldn’t be, at least for regular consumption; most of the foodstuffs aren’t suitable for today’s population—office workers, tech employees, people who drive cars and watch TV. These dishes are high calorie, high fat, high carb—anathema to twenty-first-century American health standards, but perfectly reasonable and even essential for people who worked their fingers to the bone sunup to sundown. Traditional cooking is rooted in traditional living, so while most of the recipes included here are friendly enough for replication in a modern kitchen, Casada points out that simply buying your meat in a grocery store reduces the whole experience to immediate gratification. Eating, however satisfying, is merely one stage in a long relationship with the earth, one strengthened by raising and slaughtering your own animals. The recipes thus serve as a recording of history far more than practical instructions. That being said, living historians, reenactment groups, and museums would truly benefit from the authentic directions. Each chapter focuses on a food staple—pork, domestic fruits, corn, chickens, etc.—and begins with a brief prose memoir about how his family raised, hunted, gathered, cultivated, slaughtered, prepared and ate said staple. Whether the substance at hand was elderberries, pigs, or trout, the ability of Casada’s family to squeeze every last bit of fat or juice out of anything edible is truly a lesson in labor history. A hog slaughtering, for example, would involve his entire extended family and yield a cornucopia of sausages, cured ham, canned ham, gravy, tenderloins, streaky bacon, and fatback. There are also several chapters dedicated to individual holidays and one centering around traditional foods of the Cherokee, “the original mountain people.” The book concludes with a highly informative “further reading” section. This is a book that could comfortably sit on the shelves of a museum giftshop but also works as a source of mountain life from a bygone era, and thus could benefit the scholar or the research student equally well. It serves [End Page 119] as a lively addition to Casada’s oeuvre for longtime readers as well as an introduction to the foodways of a fast disappearing portion of America. Laura Michelle Diener Marshall University Copyright © 2023 West Virginia University Press","PeriodicalId":350051,"journal":{"name":"West Virginia History: A Journal of Regional Studies","volume":"7 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0000,"publicationDate":"2023-03-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":"0","resultStr":"{\"title\":\"Fishing for Chickens: A Smokies Food Memoir by Jim Casada (review)\",\"authors\":\"Laura Michelle Diener\",\"doi\":\"10.1353/wvh.2023.a906881\",\"DOIUrl\":null,\"url\":null,\"abstract\":\"Reviewed by: Fishing for Chickens: A Smokies Food Memoir by Jim Casada Laura Michelle Diener Fishing for Chickens: A Smokies Food Memoir. By Jim Casada. (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2022. Pp. ix, 336.) Jim Casada, a former historian at Winthrop University, has devoted the second half of his career to promoting the unique regional flavor of the Smoky Mountains, a distinct area too often lumped into the umbrella of southern Appalachia. Using the geographic description posited by nineteenth-century explorer Arnold Guyot, Casada argues that the Smokies of western North Carolina and east Tennessee along with some neighboring mountain chains such as the Blacks and the Snowbirds, possess a unique subculture, one dying out as the conveniences of modernity replace traditional folkways. In an effort to preserve and celebrate those traditions, Casada has authored and coauthored multiple books relating to hunting, [End Page 118] fishing, and storytelling. In his latest, Fishing for Chickens, Casada has produced a hybrid work that blends several genres—childhood memoir, regional history, folk study, and cookbook—into a toothsome concoction of mass appeal. One could easily do a quick taste to sample the recipes, but the rich flavor derives from the memories behind them. Forgive the puns, but Casada’s easy folksy language promotes an informal intimacy with the subject, one of the book’s many charms. Fishing for Chickens serves as an homage to his mountain boyhood as well as a love letter to his mother and grandmother, whose “recipes” feature throughout the book—recipes being in quotes because he never recalls those women measuring or writing anything down. Their cooking thus can’t truly be replicated, and in all honesty, much of it probably shouldn’t be, at least for regular consumption; most of the foodstuffs aren’t suitable for today’s population—office workers, tech employees, people who drive cars and watch TV. These dishes are high calorie, high fat, high carb—anathema to twenty-first-century American health standards, but perfectly reasonable and even essential for people who worked their fingers to the bone sunup to sundown. Traditional cooking is rooted in traditional living, so while most of the recipes included here are friendly enough for replication in a modern kitchen, Casada points out that simply buying your meat in a grocery store reduces the whole experience to immediate gratification. Eating, however satisfying, is merely one stage in a long relationship with the earth, one strengthened by raising and slaughtering your own animals. The recipes thus serve as a recording of history far more than practical instructions. That being said, living historians, reenactment groups, and museums would truly benefit from the authentic directions. Each chapter focuses on a food staple—pork, domestic fruits, corn, chickens, etc.—and begins with a brief prose memoir about how his family raised, hunted, gathered, cultivated, slaughtered, prepared and ate said staple. Whether the substance at hand was elderberries, pigs, or trout, the ability of Casada’s family to squeeze every last bit of fat or juice out of anything edible is truly a lesson in labor history. A hog slaughtering, for example, would involve his entire extended family and yield a cornucopia of sausages, cured ham, canned ham, gravy, tenderloins, streaky bacon, and fatback. There are also several chapters dedicated to individual holidays and one centering around traditional foods of the Cherokee, “the original mountain people.” The book concludes with a highly informative “further reading” section. This is a book that could comfortably sit on the shelves of a museum giftshop but also works as a source of mountain life from a bygone era, and thus could benefit the scholar or the research student equally well. It serves [End Page 119] as a lively addition to Casada’s oeuvre for longtime readers as well as an introduction to the foodways of a fast disappearing portion of America. 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引用次数: 0
Fishing for Chickens: A Smokies Food Memoir by Jim Casada (review)
Reviewed by: Fishing for Chickens: A Smokies Food Memoir by Jim Casada Laura Michelle Diener Fishing for Chickens: A Smokies Food Memoir. By Jim Casada. (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2022. Pp. ix, 336.) Jim Casada, a former historian at Winthrop University, has devoted the second half of his career to promoting the unique regional flavor of the Smoky Mountains, a distinct area too often lumped into the umbrella of southern Appalachia. Using the geographic description posited by nineteenth-century explorer Arnold Guyot, Casada argues that the Smokies of western North Carolina and east Tennessee along with some neighboring mountain chains such as the Blacks and the Snowbirds, possess a unique subculture, one dying out as the conveniences of modernity replace traditional folkways. In an effort to preserve and celebrate those traditions, Casada has authored and coauthored multiple books relating to hunting, [End Page 118] fishing, and storytelling. In his latest, Fishing for Chickens, Casada has produced a hybrid work that blends several genres—childhood memoir, regional history, folk study, and cookbook—into a toothsome concoction of mass appeal. One could easily do a quick taste to sample the recipes, but the rich flavor derives from the memories behind them. Forgive the puns, but Casada’s easy folksy language promotes an informal intimacy with the subject, one of the book’s many charms. Fishing for Chickens serves as an homage to his mountain boyhood as well as a love letter to his mother and grandmother, whose “recipes” feature throughout the book—recipes being in quotes because he never recalls those women measuring or writing anything down. Their cooking thus can’t truly be replicated, and in all honesty, much of it probably shouldn’t be, at least for regular consumption; most of the foodstuffs aren’t suitable for today’s population—office workers, tech employees, people who drive cars and watch TV. These dishes are high calorie, high fat, high carb—anathema to twenty-first-century American health standards, but perfectly reasonable and even essential for people who worked their fingers to the bone sunup to sundown. Traditional cooking is rooted in traditional living, so while most of the recipes included here are friendly enough for replication in a modern kitchen, Casada points out that simply buying your meat in a grocery store reduces the whole experience to immediate gratification. Eating, however satisfying, is merely one stage in a long relationship with the earth, one strengthened by raising and slaughtering your own animals. The recipes thus serve as a recording of history far more than practical instructions. That being said, living historians, reenactment groups, and museums would truly benefit from the authentic directions. Each chapter focuses on a food staple—pork, domestic fruits, corn, chickens, etc.—and begins with a brief prose memoir about how his family raised, hunted, gathered, cultivated, slaughtered, prepared and ate said staple. Whether the substance at hand was elderberries, pigs, or trout, the ability of Casada’s family to squeeze every last bit of fat or juice out of anything edible is truly a lesson in labor history. A hog slaughtering, for example, would involve his entire extended family and yield a cornucopia of sausages, cured ham, canned ham, gravy, tenderloins, streaky bacon, and fatback. There are also several chapters dedicated to individual holidays and one centering around traditional foods of the Cherokee, “the original mountain people.” The book concludes with a highly informative “further reading” section. This is a book that could comfortably sit on the shelves of a museum giftshop but also works as a source of mountain life from a bygone era, and thus could benefit the scholar or the research student equally well. It serves [End Page 119] as a lively addition to Casada’s oeuvre for longtime readers as well as an introduction to the foodways of a fast disappearing portion of America. Laura Michelle Diener Marshall University Copyright © 2023 West Virginia University Press