BY DECEMBER RAIN HANSEN

FEATURED IN VOL 6, ISSUE 1: Around the table

Food, and my relationship with it, is an important facet of not only my personal identity, but also of my culture, and the culture I grew up in. I believe food is spiritual and that the act of creating, serving, and eating a meal is an act of holy worship — a practice of religion. I myself am agnostic, but sometimes when I make a meal for my fiancé after a long day's work, or when I eat something special made just for me, I can see the existence of God.

I grew up in Anchorage, Alaska. For most of my life, there weren’t many chain restaurants. We ate good, and we ate ninety-nine percent local. Anchorage is a melting pot of races and cultures. I was privileged to eat the freshest seafood, try Nepalese, indulge in giant bowls of Pho, and have some of the best Thai that side of the Arctic Ocean minutes down the street.

Moving to West Tennessee was a bit of a culture shock for me food-wise, to say the least. In the seven years I've lived here though, I've seen a push and a desire for change and new things. We have a need for more variety in local restaurants and new options in this area, and certain citizens in Jackson are working very hard to make that happen.

One of the first things that came to my mind when thinking about what I wanted to write for this issue of Our Jackson Home, was setting up interviews with chefs. Not just restaurant chefs, though, home chefs too. I wanted to touch as many corners of our little world as I could. I believe that every individual has valuable stories and a history that needs to be shared. Jackson has a rich history and a constantly growing and changing demographic. Food is a great way of exploring that history and giving a tangible communal element to getting to know someone and our community better.

I had the honor of breaking bread or clinking glasses with four wonderful chefs. Each one has their own style and flavor, their own audience, their own passions and drives for cooking what they serve and I was given intimate insight to their hows and whys. I hope these interviews not only encourage you to try something new, but also to step back from fast options for just a second and feel the inspiration from within to create something new and different and share it with your loved ones. I’m proud to say that each one of these individuals pours their heart, soul, and artistry into everything they make. If I’m sure about one thing, it’s that food made with love just tastes so much better.

**Jennifer Dickerson**

CHANDELIER RESTAURANT

I almost cancelled my meeting with Chef Jennifer. I had an awful day at work and the impending COVID-19 shutdowns were weighing heavy on my mind, and I felt like I wasn't going to be able to be “on” like I wanted to be. I texted her to confirm about an hour prior, half hoping she’d be too stressed with the coronavirus business to meet. She wasn’t, and I couldn’t be more thankful that I put on my big girl pants and showed up, despite all my anxiety and unease. The minute I walked into Chandelier, all of my worries and stresses melted away for a little bit.

I got to observe Jennifer working with her media team to record their weekly marketing video. Things were changing and they were doing their best to keep up with the new regulations for restaurants. It was emotional behind the scenes - so much uncertainty and worry. I saw how much this restaurant means to Jennifer, and the effort she was putting in to make sure everyone could be fed. They were working on a new menu and pricing for takeout orders that were designed for families and met all kinds of budget needs.

“I’m proud to be a part of this community,”she told me later during our sit down. “Good food needs to be accessible for everybody.” The culture surrounding Chandelier as a workplace was a beautiful thing to witness. It was one of the first things I noticed when I started asking her questions about the restaurant and her food. Everything was centered around the idea that Chandelier is not only a place for creative expression but also an environment that prided itself on its family bond. Those who worked there found strong leadership in Jennifer, as well as a sense of belonging. What they thought and how they felt mattered to her.

High quality food is another important facet of the restaurant. When I asked her if she thought COVID-19 would influence the way we ate long term, she said, “We will all come together.'' The question she had been musing on was centered around how to feed everyone in a way that was fulfilling to her not only as a chef, but also incredibly accessible. Jennifer cares about what she makes. Yes, something plain or processed can get the job done, but it was apparent to me that Chef Jennifer is constantly pushing herself to find ways to do better for her community than just getting the job done.

Good food nourishes not only the body but the soul, too. There is a lot of soul in the dishes and meals that Jennifer plans. For her third Thursday wine dinners, instead of pairing the wine to the food, she creates the food based off of the wine. We talked about inspiration. She finds hers in color, taste, smell, and the way certain vegetables look next to each other at the market, among a million other things. I felt an artistic kinship to her in that sense.

Her desire as a culinary artist is always to take something familiar and make it brand new. Whether that's Japanese Danish fusion, or her Chandelier staple Sexy Southern, you know it will be full of soul. From the moment you walk into Chandelier and order a bourbon, to the second you lay your fork down when you're done, it is a carefully and artfully curated experience.

When you let artists control the art, you’ll get the best results. That goes for all mediums. Tattoo artists, painters, sculptures, and chefs, too. You’ll be hard-pressed to find many other chefs who are able to make their food a direct reflection of themselves. When I sit at her bar and have a drink she makes, and when I look at the food that she has presented and prepared, I feel like I can see her and understand who she is better than talking. Like all good art, her food comes from the soul. Those who are willing to bear their souls for us like this give more joy and life to all who they come into contact with. We are in a time of malnourishment: body, mind and soul. People like Chef Jennifer are a part of the few who will fill your cup to running over, if you give them the chance to.

When I tell you the meal Chef Tanner cooked for me for our interview was the best meal I’ve had since living in Tennessee, I ain’t lyin’. Tanner is a chef, but I'd liken his skills in the kitchen to those of a culinary engineer. His food is thoughtfully designed and delicious. HOW you eat it matters just as much as the taste. He made me three classic southern dishes: fried green tomatoes, deviled eggs and catfish, white beans and greens. Do not let the simplicity fool you.

Let's start with an absolute gem of southern cooking, a homemade favorite: fried green tomatoes. What Tanner has done with this dish is downright ingenious. Without giving away too many of the secrets, these bad boys are breaded in panko. The flavor is the same, maybe a little more savory than traditional bread crumbs, but the biggest advantage? Never soggy. Not in the slightest. When you take a bite, you get a bite. Not a burn-your-mouth-half-bite where you accidentally pull out the whole tomato and are left with a sad empty shelf of soggy breading. But a crunchy, perfect tomato-to-breading ratio bite. The top is garnished with a homemade pimento cheese and candied bacon garnish. If that wasn’t enough, this bad boy sits on a bed of caramelized onions. Every single bite of this fried green tomato gets you singing Dixieland Delight in your head and praising Jesus every day of the week.

The deviled eggs were no ordinary hard-boiled two step either. These were crawfish deviled eggs with roasted poblano peppers and fried crawfish tails. Deviled eggs are always good, even bad mayo-y ones are good. Now crawfish deviled eggs are a whole new experience all together. I didn’t know that boiled egg yoke needed crawfish in it so bad. But, somehow, the Creole cooking gods whispered the sweet song of crawdaddies into Tanner’s dreams and made their way onto his menu. An absolute gift.

I am not a picky person. I will eat just about anything, but I don’t generally choose to eat catfish. The batter is always a little too gritty or salty, and the seasoning falls short of doing the fish any justice. I set no expectations for Tanner’s version, which sat on a beautiful bed of white bean, bacon, and braised collard greens, but it absolutely changed my perspective of catfish as a meal. Instead of using a traditional breading, this catfish is potato crusted. The tartar sauce? Made from Banana Peppers. Revolutionary. The tartar sauce added so much depth to the dish, depth that the traditional fried catfish plate so desperately needed.

Getting to know Tanner was just as fun as eating his food. He’s clever and strives to give members at the Jackson Country Club something they know, but refreshed and with a twist. Being able to have a smaller, devoted customer base has its perks. Tanner has grown with them and helped people try new and different things in a comfortable way.

We connected immediately in our lamentations about the culture surrounding food in West Tennessee. I asked him about his efforts to expand the palette of his members. One way he does this is through special Farm To Table dinners with wine pairings. All ingredients are sourced locally. He doesn’t release the menu. It's a surprise until it's brought out to the table where he comes out and explains each dish and the thoughts behind it.

“You gotta force yourself to change a little bit,” he said, when I asked what advice he could give to people who wanted to try something different but were hesitant. “Ask your waiter too, they’ve usually tried everything on the menu.” I believe that is great advice. Sometimes trying new things can be scary; you want to stick to what you know because you know it's good. But asking someone's advice, rather than trying to guess what something might taste like, can definitely give you the confidence to branch out. The human element is what helps make a local restaurant dining experience as special as it is, and has potential to be.

Some people may be put off by the fact that even to eat at the restaurant in the Country Club you have to have a membership. To many, that isn’t an affordable luxury. But if you are someone who loves food, and loves having a nice, quiet place to go and have a meal before a night out or a nightcap on your way back in, I believe it's worth it if your lifestyle allows it. In this day and age we sacrifice a lot of niceties. Things are more informal and relaxed for the sake of convenience. If you’ve been considering any sort of membership there I’d say go for it, if only for the food and the ingenious culinary design that Chef Tanner creates. Not only is Tanner a breath of fresh air, but his food is, too. It gives me hope for a resurgence and refinement of classical southern cooking (with the godsent Cajun influence) in our West Tennessee area.

I fell in love with Mary the moment I walked through her door. She was warm and inviting and we spent the first hour of our meeting just chatting over a glass of wine. Cooking is something that Mary found a passion for as a way to not only be frugal, but also as a way to express her love. The particular dish she made me, chicken marsala, is one she learned how to make as a date night meal to have with her husband, Wesley. “I was craving Olive Garden, but we were young and trying to save money so I decided to learn how to make it at home,” she tells me. “We ate a lot of chicken marsala for a while after that.”

Mary didn’t necessarily grow up cooking, but she always loved to bake. Her mom is Filipino, and her dad American. Dinner was either classic meat, potatoes, or burgers if dad was cooking. If it was mom, traditional pancit or adobo. We bonded over our mutual love for Filipino food. When I asked her if she could cook any of those dishes, she said that she has done Adobo before, but her big goal is to ace the pork belly. I told her I definitely need an invite to that taste test.

Cooking is one of Mary’s favorite creative outlets. She puts the time and love into whatever she makes, because she loves to make a good meal for her and her husband to share. Meals together are important in any relationship; time spent eating together is an important aspect of Mary's relationship. When I asked her if Wesley was any help while she cooks, Mary said, "He can peel the hell out of a potato.”

You can tell Mary loves the technical side of the culinary arts. She uses Pinterest to find new recipes, but there is always a learning curve.

“You have to get to know your kitchen,” she tells me. “Trial and error is the key to gaining confidence.” For example, when she wanted to learn how to make macaroons, it took several rounds to figure out that the 315 degree temp on most recipes was too hot for her oven. “280 was the sweet spot.”

Mary finds a lot of joy in creating and serving a meal. When she handed me the plate to photograph (and then devour) I saw her eyes light up. I remarked at how beautiful it looked and how wonderful it smelled and I could feel the intense amount of love and pride she had for what she made. It made the meal itself all the more better. As I ate it, I thought about Mary and her husband when they were young and just starting out, and the comfort they felt in being able to eat something at home that was better than the restaurants. While it’s nice to have a night out once in a while, it’s really tough to beat a home cooked meal made just for you, and Mary reminded me of that simple and beautiful pleasure.

A client of mine named Hailee reached out to me when she heard I was working on this project. Her Nana, Pat Rice, had just turned 80 years old and was the steadfast, keep-the-home-fires burnin’ matriarch of the family — and her deserts were to die for.

I met her in her own home in North Jackson. Hailee and her children (Pat’s great grandchildren) were moseying about enjoying the afternoon with Nana. Pat was born in Finley, Tennessee, and started cooking sooner than most. Both her parents worked, so it was her responsibility to make sure dinner was ready for everyone in the evenings.

“They were harder to cook for than kids!” She laughed when she told me this. “Dad didn’t like pasta.” White beans, cabbage, and cornbread were the usual staple. “We had a happy life,” she told me, and the way she said it made me believe her. Joy radiates from Pat, and we share the common feelings that having a meal with your family is the most important thing you can do and that love is absolutely the most important ingredient in any meal.

Pat’s faith is very important to her. Where she went to church and her beliefs in Jesus were some of the first things she told me. She leads with love, in every aspect of her life: “I love to give of myself.” To Pat, there is nothing better than the family coming together for dinner. That was her family's favorite time of the day during her childhood. It was their chance to catch everyone up on their busy lives, make decisions, ask for guidance, and, of course, enjoy a hot meal. “Sometimes we discussed mighty loud and mighty hard…” she said. “But we always got it all worked out.”

Even now, Pat makes it her duty to make sure her loved ones are fed, loved, and cared for. Her children and grandchildren all have active, busy lives. When her granddaughter Hailee works her shifts at the hospital, Pat makes sure she's got a casserole waiting for her when she gets home.

I asked Pat if she had a recipe book she used, and she excitedly grabbed a very well-loved cookbook that she had had for years. I gently thumbed through the yellowed pages; I held it with two hands and was mindful of the collapsing spine. I thought of how many times she may have had this open during the holidays or big Sunday dinners, casually referencing temperatures and ratios.

Pat makes everything from scratch. I joined her in the kitchen and got to watch her whip up some peanut butter fudge. She told me that the key to successful fudge is letting it boil long enough to form “the ball stage.” Soft-ball stage refers to a specific temperature range when cooking sugar syrups, occurring between 235 and 245 F. In addition to using a candy thermometer, this stage can be determined by dropping a spoonful of hot syrup into a bowl of very cold water. She demonstrated this technique as it was all new information to me — I don't fancy myself a dessert maker beyond box brownies and funfetti cake. It was fascinating to watch her work. Her great-grandchildren huddled around her, and she let them be a part of each step. It was a beautiful thing to bear witness to.

Without a doubt, peanut butter fudge is a national treasure in itself, and I think it is a very important element to the happiness of the average person. However, the bigger takeaway from my visit with Pat is the confirmation that who makes your food is just as important as actually eating it. We all deserve to be loved and love others in some capacity, and food is a beautiful way of expressing and receiving that love. Pat was an excellent example of said love in motion. In the short time I spent with her, I felt loved and cared for like she was my own Nana. Pat is a reflection of all that is good and wholesome in this world. She shows her loved ones and strangers care and tenderness through her service to others in and outside of this kitchen. We are lucky to have citizens like Pat Rice in our community.

December Rain Hansen was born and raised in Anchorage, Alaska but has made West Tennessee her home for the last 7 years. She is a photographer and writer who looks for ways to push her own boundaries within her work and seeks to question the world around her.

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