The story of a kind man I never met and the catfish for which he became famous

It’s true: the cat is back! If you come to the Roadhouse this month, you might be happy to see that the fried whole catfish has returned to what so many of you believe is its rightful place on the menu. I’m glad it has—I tried some the other day for the first time in a long while and was reminded of just how tasty it truly is: moist, meaty, delicate, with the crunch of the super flavorful Anson Mills artisan cornmeal on the outside, and a sprinkling of garlic salt that adds a bit of culinary embroidery to an already excellent dish. It’s served up alongside Anson Mills grits (made with a different corn and a different milling texture than the cornmeal); long-cooked, bacon-braised collard greens; and a ramekin of mustard coleslaw. Having this classic fried catfish for dinner would be the start of a great night!

In “A Taste of Zingerman’s Food Philosophy,” I encourage all of us (myself included) to “get curious about the story behind your food.” Without knowing the story, I always say, the food may be fine—but we’re missing so much of the background that makes it what it is. Just as knowing a person only by their job title or as an offshoot of their family tree does them a disservice, the same goes for food. We need to learn the backstory to truly understand and appreciate what we’re eating. American ethnomusicologist Alan Lomax, who spent much of the 20th century recording little-known traditional music to preserve it for posterity, believed that “traditional songs are the poetry of everyday people.” In a culinary context, dishes like this fried catfish offer a similar cultural richness; they are culinary poetry from the back kitchens of our country. And every time we serve the catfish at the Roadhouse, I come back to the story of a man named Joe Burroughs. 

In his Southern community of Albertville, Alabama, Burroughs was known to most folks as “Uncle Joe.” I never met him, but he was the father of my longtime friend Peggy Burroughs Markel, who for many years has co-led the Zingerman’s Food Tours to Tuscany and also Morocco. After he passed away in 2008, Peggy shared his beautiful story with me. 

Uncle Joe went to college at Auburn, then joined the Army during World War II, where he spent most of his time in Italy and North Africa. His worldview was influenced greatly by what he experienced there. Joe often expressed how the Italians reminded him of his own people, who grew gardens and loved to cook even when times were tough. His heart was cracked open by the beauty of Italy, which inspired him to write poetry and sculpt in alabaster. And while he was glad to return home after the war, the memories of Italy were forever on his mind and present in countless tales he told again and again throughout his life. 

Joe went to work for South Central Bell as a telephone man and supervisor who taught others how to be fearless high up on a telephone pole on cold, stormy nights. His “men” loved him, just as they had when he was a first sergeant in communications for the Army. In his private life, he was a gentleman farmer and a caring family man with a creative, artistic side that he expressed through gardening and cooking. He took over kitchen duties from his wife on the weekends, serving fried catfish on Friday night, steaks on Saturday, and omelets on Sunday. He was also a master at growing and pickling peppers.

Peggy remembers this about her father:

He had a passion for frying catfish. The Tennessee River was a stone’s throw away, and he went there often to visit a good friend whom we called Uncle Charlie. Charlie had a boathouse on Pole Cat Hollow, an offshoot of Guntersville Lake, where theTennessee Valley Authority created 800 miles of shoreline around the foothills of the Appalachians. We grew up swimming in the river, boating, waterskiing, and chowing down on catfish, hush puppies, and home brew. After all, we lived in a dry county. My dad liked his beer, and we had to drive to the next town to get it. We had two refrigerators out back by the barbecue pit. One was for beer, and the other was a smoker. If you got them mixed up, you’d open the fridge door and find catfish hanging upside down by their tails.

The Tennessee River was a goldmine for catfish—catfish farms were not even invented yet. I can still remember how proud I was as a kid to learn how to take my fork and go up the spine of a freshly fried, still-steaming fish; filet it; and dab it into some homemade “goush,” an equal mix of ketchup and mayonnaise. It was so good. My sisters and I would turn on Elvis Presley and “do the mashed potato.” There wasn’t a Friday night that I didn’t go out on a date smelling like fried fish. 

At that point, Mama made my dad start cooking it outside the house. There he built his domain. His cast-iron deep fryer, full of Mazola, kept the fires burning until everyone had their share. The bone plates were stacked high. All our friends came willingly. It was the place to be for the best food in town—“Uncle Joe’s famous catfish” right in our own backyard. He was inspired and designed a room off the house and thought to start a small café complete with a conveyor belt, designed to take the fried fish to people sitting around the bar. He was ahead of his time.

Joe Burroughs, I realize now in the context of my lead essay, found a way to weave a bit of his passion, purpose, and life dream into his weekly routine—and he loved it! Uncle Joe died peacefully in his sleep in the second week of July 2008, prompting Peggy to share this reflection: “The lesson for me? Kindness and gentleness are the key to happiness and a peaceful passing.” Joe never did build the café he envisioned, but, in the spirit of Alan Lomax’s work to record people who might never otherwise have been heard, I really wanted to have his catfish on our menu. And all these years later, it still plays a vital role in the Roadhouse rotations.

This coming October 24 would have been Joe Burroughs’ 110th birthday, and the catfish dish is a tribute to the kindness, gentleness, and generosity with which he moved through the world. Sharing his story here is another of my “secular prayers”—offered in the hope that we can all come together caringly around good food the way Uncle Joe did for so many years. When you raise your forkful of delicately fried catfish at dinner, consider making a quiet toast to Joe and the joy he brought to so many. And if you want to truly channel Peggy’s childhood, we’ll happily bring you ketchup and mayonnaise so you can enjoy some Burroughs family “goush” to go with it.

Order your catfish

A marriage of steak and barbecue is a beautiful thing to behold

If you’re not in the mood for cooking at home, here’s a dinner that takes us many weeks to get ready, but all you need to do is drive over (or bike or walk if you live nearby now that the weather has warmed up) and order it! When it appears on the menu, as it has this month, it is almost always a hit!

The Smoked Ribeye was introduced for the first time about five or six years ago. Each time we take it off the menu for a few days, people start asking for it again. As a result, it’s appearing on the dinner menu now with a high degree of regularity.

So what’s a Smoked Ribeye? Someone described it to me last summer as “the best possible marriage one could imagine between steak and barbecue!” Hard to argue with that. A little bit of smoke, a nice piece of beef, a whole lot of flavor.

It begins with pasture-raised beef from a couple of farms within an hour of here. The beef is dry-aged—the way all good butchers would have done 60 or 70 years ago—for about a month, and then butchered from whole sides right here in the Roadhouse kitchen. For the Smoked Ribeye, we start by seasoning the beef with a mix of cayenne pepper, paprika, salt, and freshly ground Tellicherry black pepper. The whole piece is then smoked here on the pit over smoldering whole oak logs for about two hours. When you order a Smoked Ribeye for supper, we finish it on the wood-burning (or “live fire” as many folks are now saying) grill. We typically serve it up with mashed potatoes and sautéed spinach, but, of course, you can switch up the sides if you want (a little mac and cheese, maybe?).

Is it good? Yes! Really good! So many people have told me the Smoked Ribeye is one of the tastiest pieces of beef they’ve eaten in ages! A few have said “ever.” Longtime Roadie from years past Chris Domienik once told me, “It’s one of the best things on the menu. The smoke gets totally into the steak and it’s just so juicy and … it’s just awesome!” I took a Smoked Ribeye home for Tammie to try the one evening, and my whole car was perfumed by the smokiness. Neither she nor I eat much meat, but the Smoked Ribeye was so compelling it was gone in minutes! Smoky, savory, rich, meaty, and pretty darned marvelous! Served with a pat of Vermont Creamery Cultured Butter—it’s darned delicious! Swing by soon and check it out!

Make a reservation

Great weekday meal for barbecue lovers to eat in or take out

Looking for some great-tasting comfort food? Some of the best smoked chicken anywhere? We may have done a lot of renovations on the kitchen and bar area in recent months, but the Roadhouse’s menu classics remain the same. Having just tasted some of the Pit-Smoked Amish Chicken the other night, I’m reminded again of how darned delicious it is. Rick Strutz, one of the long-time managing partners at the Deli—someone who’s probably tasted pretty much everything in the Zingerman’s Community over his 25 years plus in the job—says the Roadhouse Smoked Chicken is one of the best things in the ZCoB. I agree.

Which is why, if it’s Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday, I’d recommend giving some thought to swinging by and picking up one of these exceptional oak-smoked chickens from the Roadhouse. I can say from a LOT of personal experience that they make an exceptional evening meal! A whole Amish chicken, rubbed with freshly ground Tellicherry black pepper and salt, smoked slowly over smoldering whole oak logs for three or four hours. We’ve had them on the carryout menu for the last few years, during which time they’ve been a very regular item at our house. All you need to do is call ahead to order one, then swing by the Roadhouse and pick it up.

Sunday through Thursday, you can also get the Roadhouse’s Pit-Smoked Chickens inside the restaurant for dinner. The beautiful, oak-smoked, Tellicherry black pepper-dusted bird comes plated with side dishes that make it a great dinner and a great deal! Man, is it good! If you have leftovers, I’ll share that they’re awesome for adding to soup or salad, making into smoked chicken salad, or just nibbling on out of the fridge when you need a snack. Tammie and I take the bones that are left behind and boil them with an array of vegetables to make a magically terrific broth. (When we serve it, we drop on a spoonful of IASA peperoncino!)

Once again, the Roadhouse only smokes a limited number of these whole chickens in time for dinner Sunday through Thursday. It can’t hurt to order ahead and have us hold one for you. It’s hard to believe a chicken could be life-changing, but this might be it. It’d be awesome, I’ll add, for either an Easter dinner or a Passover Seder as well.

A symbol of dignity and democracy supports Democracy Now!

Last spring, I was reflecting on how much good community work in the country is still framed in negative terms. There are a lot of “antis”—all well-intended—but the approach is still largely oppositional. Thinking on all that I’d written in The Power of Beliefs in Business, I was reminded that while focusing on what we’re against is common, it’s rarely very effective. That reflection set me searching for a positive symbol for the good, non-partisan, pro-people work so many are doing to support dignity and democracy.

Around that same time, I read—or, more accurately, reread—Ukrainian writer Lyuba Yakimchuk’s poignant poem “Apricots for Donbas.” When I came to the line, “Where no more apricots grow, Russia starts,” I realized she had given me an unexpectedly powerful solution for my search. As a longtime student of Russian history, I’ve long been clear that I didn’t want to be in autocratically-run Russia. What had never occurred to me, though, was to think about apricots. Sure, I’d always liked them, but I’d simply never considered them in this context. A couple of days later, I went with my instincts. Reminding myself regularly that in challenging times like the ones we’re living in, it’s important to take positive actions, not just slide into being a well-meaning bystander. I decided I would make apricots a symbol of dignity and democracy. Why not? They’re positive. They’re peaceful. They’re delicious. They’re beautiful. They’re natural. I knew I didn’t want Russia. I opted for apricots.

My first move, sometime in the second week of May last spring, was to find an apricot pin to put on my jean jacket. I looked online and came across dozens. I went with my gut and picked one that came from an artist named Agavny. I knew nothing about her, but I really like her pins, so I ordered it up. I waited a week or so, and when it arrived, I stuck it on my jacket. Almost immediately, I began to get queries and compliments. Most went something like, “Wow, that’s nice! What is it? I would always answer directly: “It’s an apricot. It’s the symbol of dignity and democracy.” The response I got back, nearly every time, was something like, “That’s awesome! I love that!” After a few weeks of kind comments and encouragement, I decided to take the next step. The amazing Ian Nagy drew an apricot for the cover of “Why Democracy Matters.” From there, Ian’s illustration went onto t-shirts, hoodies, and more, which, thanks to Rishi Narayan and the creative crew at Underground Printing, we could ship straight to people’s houses. We donate the proceeds to Democracy Now!, a non-partisan non-profit.

While Ian was working on the drawing, I ordered some more pins from Agavny—I figured I could just give them away to folks I knew and start spreading the word. That went so well, that in a month or so, I ordered more. Late last fall, I had the thought to reach out to Agavny directly. I would buy a bunch myself and then bring them to the Roadhouse, where the crew could sell them and donate the entire amount from each sale to Democracy Now!. She loved the idea. We made it happen. Of course, the pins arrived a few days before the renovation started. Now that we’re back at it full bore in the restaurant, the pins are up on the host stand for sale! Like the items from Underground Printing, all the money from each pin you buy goes to Democracy Now!

It happens, by one of those wonderful coincidences the world can offer, a bit of artisan magic we might say here, that Agavny doesn’t just make great apricot pins, she’s an awesome artist with a wonderful worldview. An Armenian American, her full name is Agavny Vardanyan. She was born in L.A. into an immigrant family, and she’s lived there her whole life. Her name, Agavny, means “dove” or “pigeon” in Armenian, and she has been passionate about promoting Armenian culture, history, and art throughout her life. She illustrates, she’s worked on an Armenian children’s book, designed props for stage sets, done a lot of animation, and more. You can see some of her lovely work here.

In the fall of 2020, seven months into COVID, a second apocalyptic catastrophe hit the Armenian community when the Artsakh War between Armenia and Azerbaijan started. Many Armenians came under attack in the Caucasus. As Agavny shared in an interview in March 2022 with VoyageLA,

The War in my homeland Armenia in the Fall of 2020 has been one of the biggest challenges in my life and the lives of all Armenians I know. With the opposing side having far more technological advancements than our own military, seeing the names and ages of soldiers we lost was like living through hell every single day. The lack of international aid from countries that had all the power in the world to stop this war showed many Armenians that our tiny island of land could very easily be lost to us if this attack was so easy to turn a blind eye to.

She decided to raise money for the community in Armenia by making and selling artisan pins, posters, and more. For the pins, she started with three based on the red, blue, and orange of the Armenian flag. “My first pin was the red pomegranate, followed by the blue Gentiana Verna flower, and the third, of course, being the apricot with its scientific name appropriately being Prunus armeniaca.” She taught herself how to hand-make her original artisan pins by putting together polymer clay, acrylic paint, UV resin, and, of course, the pin backs.

The apricot pin is the one I ordered four years later. I loved it at the time, and, having learned more about Agavny’s inspiring worldviews, passion for Armenian culture, and compassion for those who are suffering, I now love it even more. She actually organized a digital charity zine called “Split Pomegranate, Sacred Seeds” where over 90 writers and artists got together, and donated proceeds to Armenian charities supporting Artsakh refugees and more! She shared, “Our project gained enough love that I ended up opening preorders for physical copies—and altogether with digital and physical sales we raised nearly $4000.”

If you live in town, you can swing by the Roadhouse and buy a couple of Agavny’s artisan apricot pins. In fact, buy as many as you want! If we sell out, I’ll buy more, and we’ll do the donation thing again! If you live out of town, you can just go to Agavny’s Etsy site, where I first found them last spring.

Part of what I appreciate about Agavny is how deeply she cares about her community. As she says,

Tragedy is something Armenians have lived through before, and in some sad way, we have become used to it. But through music, film, writing, and art, we strive to keep our culture alive, to put a voice onto those emotions. I hope I can contribute in any small way.

And now, in a wonderful way, her pins contribute twice over—first on her end to support the embattled Armenian community in the Caucasus, and then when you buy one at the Roadhouse, we donate again to Democracy Now!

Here’s to Agavny, apricots, dignity, democracy, and good things to come.

P.S. If you’d like to buy any of the t-shirts, hats, hoodies, Carhartts, kids’ shirts, etc., you can find them online through our friends at Underground Printing. The backstory of the apricot in all this is right here. And now, with this wonderful relationship with a creative and caring artist like Agavny, the story has gotten even better!

P.P.S. The newly released “Why Democracy Matters” pamphlet, with Ian Nagy’s amazing apricot drawing on the cover, is on the counter right next to the pins. The two together would make a great gift for anyone for whom dignity and democracy matter!

Celebrating SafeHouse Center, Nueske’s, and an amazing Corgi

On Tuesday evening, March 31, we’ll gather to support SafeHouse Center, our local shelter for survivors of domestic abuse. It’s an especially meaningful evening for me—it marks the 11th annual Jelly Bean Jump Up, held in honor of my beloved Corgi, Jelly Bean. When she passed away in the spring of 2015, we wanted to celebrate her loving spirit in a way that would serve the community, just as she brought so much joy and generosity to our lives for 17 years. Because SafeHouse Center does such important work—and because we live nearby, where the staff would often see Jelly Bean and me running past—we chose it as the cause to commemorate her memory.

This year’s dinner feels especially meaningful—it will be a bit of a redux of Camp Bacon, the fundraising event we ran annually for the 10 years leading up to Covid. We had educational speakers, cooking classes, special dinners like this one, and a bacon street fair at the Ann Arbor Farmers Market. This dinner is also a great opportunity to celebrate the wonderful relationship we’ve built with the Nueske family over the last 44 years.

Eleven days from today, we will celebrate the 44th anniversary of what has evolved over the years into Zingerman’s Community of Businesses. A deep heartfelt thanks to all of you for your encouragement, support, and patience over all these years. One of our Guiding Principles talks about our dedication to long-term relationships—many of you have been with us from the beginning. That is also true of many of our suppliers. In fact, March 15 will also mark the 44th anniversary of cooking Nueske’s applewood smoked bacon. Their commitment to quality, generosity of spirit, shared values, and dedication to dignity in every direction have made our connection with the Nueske family one of the most rewarding elements of those 44 years. If being kind, caring, and doing the right thing are the way human beings are meant to be—and I believe that from the heart—then Nueske’s, per what I wrote last week, are wholly unordinary in the best possible ways.

If you eat bacon and you’ve come to Zingerman’s regularly over the years, the odds are high you’ve already appreciated the wonderful meaty, gently salted, subtly sweet, beautifully smoky deliciousness that Nueske’s bacon has always been about. If you want a big-time testimonial about this bacon, take it from the late and very great writer, R.W. Apple, who put in print in The New York Times that Nueske’s was “the beluga of bacon, the Rolls-Royce of rashers.”

Tanya Nueske, granddaughter of the founder, Robert Nueske, is as passionate about her product as you’re going to get. Even though she’s been around applewood smoked bacon her entire life, she still loves to talk about it, sell it, and eat it. “I eat bacon so much. I eat it plain all the time. Basically, we use bacon with everything!”

“What we do is a very old tradition,” she told me. “My grandfather started selling the bacon in 1933. He started out smoking over applewood. And he had a way of doing it and a style that came from his grandparents.” Robert’s parents, Wilhelm and Wilhelmina Nueske, came to Wisconsin from Prussia in 1882—exactly 100 years before we opened the Deli.

Given all that I’ve already said over the years and in “A Taste of Zingerman’s Food Philosophy” about raw materials, it’s no surprise that bacon this good starts with special pork. Nueske’s sources higher-quality hogs, crossbred with Pietrain pigs because of the latter’s excellent lean-to-fat ratio. We’ve been working with our suppliers for well over 25 years. And we still hand-trim everything.”

The Nueskes cure fresh slabs of bacon in brine, hang them to dry for a day or so, and then smoke them for at least another day. Tanya says, “When you smoke slowly over genuine applewood embers for a full 24 hours, the sweetness of the smoke really has a chance to permeate each cut of meat and impart our signature flavor.” They approach the smoking process as a craft:

We design our smokehouses ourselves and have them built for us. The smoking is all hand-controlled by the smokemaster, but it’s still a very artisan thing. … The smokemaster will tell you that each smokehouse is different. And we still use actual applewood logs. People should know that “applewood smoke” can mean almost anything these days—apple juice, apple smoke flavoring, liquid smoke. … But we only use real logs of Wisconsin applewood.

Without question, over all these years, Nueske’s has proven one of the most popular foods we’ve got for sale anywhere in our organization. Its flavor is on the mellower side, with soft sweetness from the applewood that I think amplifies the natural sweetness in the high-quality pork the family goes to such lengths to source. We sell lots of it for folks to take home to cook in their own kitchens, and we also use it extensively here in our own businesses. If you come visit, you can try it on any number of sandwiches at the Deli, in the collard greens at the Roadhouse, or the Potato Bacon Rétes at the Bakehouse. It’s become a big hit on what we call the 24-7 Burger—the bacon, having been smoked for 24 hours, sitting astride a couple slices of 7-year-old Wisconsin cheddar, which in turn has been melted over a burger of freshly ground, dry-aged, Roadhouse beef. (It’s not on the actual menu right now, but just ask, and we’ll happily make you one!)

Whether you’re just buying some Nueske’s bacon to enjoy at home, coming into the Deli to eat a an amazing BLT, or better still, are able to join us for this special dinner on March 31, thank you for caring, thank you for supporting us over all these years, and thank you for supporting SafeHouse Center in their ever more important work!

See you there?

P.S. If you can’t make the dinner, and/or don’t eat meat, you can still support the Jelly Bean Jump Up for Safehouse Center through our silent auction, or donate directly to Safehouse.

P.P.S. Nueske’s bacon is part of Mail Order’s annual spring sale! Same great bacon as always, but for the next few weeks, at a really great price! Stock up!

Dozens of oysters are cracked open to toast the occasion

Last Wednesday afternoon, after six weeks of being closed for intensive and extensive renovations to the kitchen and a host of elements in the dining room, the Roadhouse quietly reopened for regular business. We are all so, so excited to be back! We missed you! Just as you may well have been missing the Roadhouse over the last month and a half, we’ve been missing it too. So many tasty dishes, so much comfort, so much full flavor.

One item in particular we’re especially excited to serve again is our array of fresh oysters on the half shell. On any given day, the Roadhouse stocks two, three, four, or even five different varietals, and we move through about 1000 of the bivalves on an average week It’s hard to know in advance exactly which oysters will be available when these enews comes out—so much depends on the weather in the various estuaries from which they come—but I asked a few members of the Roadhouse crew to share their favorites. Their guidance gives the rest of us a good sense of what to look forward to!

Head chef Bob Bennett:

One of my longtime favorites is the Beausoleil oyster. It is nearly always on our list. I think it just has a nice balance of brine that is welcoming to newer oyster eaters while still having enough flavor to stand up to being smothered with cocktail sauce.

Sous chef Chris Chiapelli:

I would say Beausoleil is probably the standard for most people because they are usually the biggest ones out there, but my personal favorite is a tie between Malpaque and Island Creek. The Malpaque is a nice blend of salty and sweet, while the Island Creek tastes really clean and buttery to me. Did you know there are over 150 varieties of them throughout the world? Lots to choose from!

Managing Partner Lisa Schultz:

Beausoleil is fabulous and probably my favorite. Just the right amount of brine, not too sweet, and generally the right amount of “meat” to gain the trust of beginners and satisfy connoisseurs alike. Back in 2005, when I was dining at the Roadhouse with a friend, Ari brought me a few as an extra mile. I fell in love with them on the spot. Ever since, I order them every time I’m out for oysters, and they’re available.

Thinking about oysters also reminds me that the Roadhouse’s Happy Hour is back in full swing. Monday through Friday, from 2 to 6 pm, we’ve got a host of drink specials and fun food deals to ease you into the evening.

And yes—the $2 oysters that have earned Happy Hour such well-deserved acclaim are back too!

Let us save you a seat