Two spins on a pre-Prohibition era cocktail in Louisville
During the 1910s in Detroit, Michigan, bartenders began pouring a gin cocktail with green chartreuse, maraschino liqueur, and lime juice. Called the Last Word, the drink regained popularity across the country in the 2000s, with the exact origin of the name unknown. At Decade cocktail bar in Louisville, Kentucky, beverage director Kelsee Bryant whips up two riffs on this pre-Prohibition era classic.
Bryant’s first take is the Supersonic. “The herbal notes from the génépy go well with the gin and bring out the honeydew,” says Bryant. “It’s bright, refreshing, and herbaceous—perfect for the spring.” She says it’s a good example of Decade’s beverage program: “Seasonally appropriate, well-structured, balanced, and not overcomplicated.” As for the How Lucky, Braynt says it’s a tiki version of a Last Word. “The funkiness of the rum goes well with the heavy citrus fruits in the drink,” she says, while the meletti “brings some depth.”
Bryant says mixing these at home is a balancing act. “If you add sweetness, you should also add acidity. But don’t overthink it.”
Garnish: Finishing olive oil
Bryant uses COS finishing olive oil “to round out the mouthfeel and add some vegetal notes.”
Tool: Koriko shaker
Bryant’s favorite brand of shaker/strainer is Koriko from Cocktail Kingdom, known for durability and sealing well.
Spirit: Airem gin
“I recommend a dry gin to balance the sweetness of the [Supersonic] cocktail.”
The Boulevardier is the bourbon lover’s answer to the gin-based Negroni. Try your hand at one of these variations on the classic for an elevated experience.
From the team behind Plates and recently-opened Maria’s Oyster and Wine Bar in New Orleans, Le Moyne is a French-style bistro that embraces Louisiana culinary traditions and historically-rooted flavors. Named for the founder of New Orleans and Mobile, Alabama, Jean-Baptiste Le Moyne de Bienville, the restaurant hopes to embody both the past and future of New Orleans cuisine. With the city positioning itself as a cultural and culinary hub for both visitors and locals, co-owner Brian Weisnicht aims to create a space that is effortless, elevated, and appeals to regulars.
For Weisnicht, French bistros are about embracing uncomplicated, effortless dining. Slow mornings reading the paper, the low rumble of two men arguing over cards, the crack of a baguette breaking open, the scent of freshly-poured espresso: these are the images that fuel the vision behind Le Moyne. Patrons should expect to find French classics like oysters, steak frites, steak au poivre, a hearty French onion soup, and other staples like crispy baguettes and fresh pickles. Weisnicht hopes to emulate a space for slow dining and savoring the moment. “We’re not doing anything that hasn’t been done around here since the 1850s. This is New Orleans history. We’re simply embracing the bones of this city and creating a modern, well-executed take on what makes this feel like home,” says Weisnicht. And it’s true: French bistros somehow exist in that timeless space between historic institutions and modern mainstays.
Le Moyne is in New Orleans’ warehouse district, a neighborhood that has undergone immense transformation since the 1990s. When Emeril Lagasse first opened his restaurant in the area, people were perplexed as to why he would choose a grungy location. Now, nearly 30 years later, the area has blossomed into a budding arts district with multiple big-name restaurants, access to shopping, activities, and the arenas. There is a steady stream of visitor and residential traffic in the area, and Le Moyne sets its sights on both. “For us, it’s about building relationships with those in the neighborhood. We want them to know, even if there’s a 35,000-person conference in town, we still have a table for them,” says Weisnicht. While many restaurants in the area book up quickly, Le Moyne plans to offer approachable pricing, specials geared toward locals, and a comfortable atmosphere for easy weekday dining.
Housed in a renovated warehouse from the early 1800s, the space will lean into the classic decorum of French bistros and embrace the industrial warehouse elements and fixtures for a modern bistro look. Exposed brick and wooden beams will mingle with white tablecloths and milk glass sconces, giving nods to an archetypal bistro setting.
Christian Hurst and Farrell Harrison are co-executive chefs of Le Moyne and will execute a vision of classic French dishes that lean into the Louisiana landscape for inspiration. Appetizers like steak tartare, crab au gratin, and a seasonally-rotating pâté will be menu staples. “We have to really nail the French onion soup. We want French onion soup to be a namesake for the space,” says Hurst. Guests can anticipate other dishes like duck confit, beef bourguignon, and steak frites to be paired with gulf-inspired vegetable-forward side dishes. Their in-house pastry chef will oversee a robust bread and dessert program and specialize in ice cream. The drink program will center on French and small sustainable bottles whereas the cocktail menu will pay homage to the French-New Orleans classics like Sazeracs with vintage armagnac or absinthe. Over time, they hope to build a reserve list for both their wine and cocktail program.
As Le Moyne opens their doors in the warehouse district, they hope to rekindle New Orleans spirit, the confluence of historic French influence with Gulf Coast grit.
In Charleston, Nikko Cagalanan is making kamayan a Filipino tradition worth traveling for
Nikko Cagalanan grew up in the Philippines, where it’s common to have multiple generations living in one household. Even everyday meals were a big production, serving 10 to 20 people. “Comparing in the US, with me and my wife, it’s just the two of us,” he says; he and restaurateur and business partner Paula Kramer tied the knot last fall. The two opened Kultura restaurant in Charleston in mid-2023, four years after Cagalanan opened Mansueta’s Filipino Food in the former Workshop food hall space. Just this past year, he was named a James Beard finalist for Emerging Chef.
Along with his regular menu, Cagalanan began offering a special kamayan dinner about once a month, often in collaboration with another chef. At a long table in the outdoor space of his tiny restaurant, he and his team lay out banana leaves and serve a range of classic Filipino dishes, from chicken adobo to lumpia, accompanied by rice, dipping sauce, vegetables, and fruit—all to be eaten by hand.
Although eating by hand was common in the Philippines before colonization (and in other parts of the world throughout history), the kamayan tradition is a celebratory meal that began in the military as a way to create camaraderie among soldiers, who nicknamed it “boodle fight,” referencing the scramble to eat as much food as possible before their neighbors could.
Cagalanan’s once-a-month dinners have been met with such enthusiasm that he’s now offering two-, four-, and six-person kamayan options on his regular menu. He keeps some ingredients traditional to his upbringing, like a combination of jasmine and sticky rice, and readily sources other ingredients locally. “We have so many amazing farmers. We’re next to the water, and I can drive to Miss Paula’s Shrimp five minutes from downtown and just get the freshest ingredients. Marvin [Ross] from Peculiar Pig Farm is the one providing the suckling pig, the lechon, for the kamayan. He’s an amazing pig farmer 20 minutes from Charleston. The easiest part is connecting with those people.”
One thing he would like to change, though, is a stigma still attached to elements of Filipino food.
“The hardest part is introducing uncommon dishes,” he says. “[People] know chicken dobo or pancit. The next thing is trying to introduce [dishes like] dinaguan, pork braised with its own blood. It’s my favorite dish that my grandmother would make, and you wouldn’t even know that it’s made with pig’s blood. It’s so hard to sell when you put it on the menu; it just changes the perspective of people reading it. But people will eat Spanish blood sausage or French boudin—why can’t you eat a tasty braised pork?”
There’s little doubt he’ll accomplish this goal. The self-taught chef, who cut his Charleston chops at Zero George, was a 2022 Chopped champion for the “bizarre baskets” episode, which had him cooking everything from rooster testicles to crickets. “Chopped was so much fun and so stressful,” he says. “Everything you see on Chopped is real. They do edit, but when the time starts, it won’t stop. Even if you cut yourself.”
He attributes the win to all the practice he got doing pop-ups since 2020. “I was doing pop-ups everywhere and using the kitchen without knowing what they have. I think that gave me the advantage because I can work around any kitchen that you give me.” In fact, he adds, “we’re still doing it at the restaurant.” His tiny Kultura kitchen is set up like a pop-up with a two-eye induction burner, a pot of boiling water, and an office oven. “Having limitations makes you more creative and makes you do things that other people wouldn’t do.”
Creating Kamayan at Home
Although some dishes need to marinate overnight, you can prep and cook for kamayan in a day, Cagalanan says, but “definitely make sure you ask family for help. It will be much faster. And that’s the best part of it—preparing it together.” He serves a range of pork, chicken, and seafood dishes, including a skewer, along with lumpia, fried spring rolls. Rice is essential—a lot of it, as it’s the base of every bite. Vegetables, fruit, and dipping sauce are the final elements. Everything is laid out on banana leaves, which serve as both tablecloth and plates.
And then you use your hands. “Grab your rice, put it in front of you; grab your meat, do a dip, put it on top of the rice and you eat it. And then you follow it with maybe string beans or bok choy, you dip it again, and that’s the move,” Cagalanan says. Repeat with each dish, and finish with fruit, which is typically watermelon, pineapple, and mango but can be whatever you like.
He recommends sourcing banana leaves and certain ingredients like lemongrass, palm sugar discs, kalamansi juice, and banana ketchup at an Asian grocery store, where they will often be less expensive. But most ingredients you’ll need can be found at major grocery stores or online.
“It brings me joy when I do a kamayan dinner in the US,” Cagalanan says. “It makes me feel at home. I love the fact that you sit with a stranger next to you and you get to talk about anything, and you get to share a meal and experience a different style of eating. I think that’s a beautiful thing.”
Pro Tip: Cagalanan recommends using a rice cooker to cook a combination of jasmine and sticky rice (about 1½ cups each to serve up to 8 people).
Chef Julio Hernadez has created his own version of authentic cuisine at his Nashville restaurant
A
nything grown in soil tells the story of that place, whether it’s grapes grown in the hot sun and cool fog of California, tomatoes grown in the rich soil of Tennessee, or a peach plucked from a tree in South Carolina. Similarly, chefs pick up the flavors and influences of the places where they grow. For Julio Hernandez, chef-owner of Maíz de la Vida, his story is peppered with influences from the Bronx, New York, to Tlaxcala, Mexico, and back, and now from his current home in Nashville, Tennessee. Each place left its mark on a young chef who was eager to learn—but it was in Nashville where Hernandez finally learned to cook Mexican food, and where he began to tell the story of his life through corn.
The loud hum of the molino, the stone fiitted grinding mill, mingles with laughter and the sound of Dangerdoom playing over the restaurant sound system one early morning at Maíz de la Vida, the restaurant that’s opened a portal to Mexico in Nashville. It’s a masa-making day in the kitchen, which means executive sous chef Obed Vallejo is in the kitchen before the sun is up, milling corn into the dough that will become part of almost every dish in the restaurant, from tortillas to tamales. This process, called nixtamalization, is a time-consuming method in which kernels are cooked and soaked in an alkaline solution of water and “cal” (short for calcium hydroxide) until they are soft and malleable. It’s then ground into masa, the dough that forms the basis of Mexican cuisine. Corn, and therefore masa, is the lifeblood of Maíz de la Vida, whose name directly translates to corn of life.
And in Mexico, corn is life, a sentiment that is deeply entrenched in Mexican identity. It’s believed to have originated in Central America about 9,000 years ago, cultivated by indigenous peoples who eventually spread it into North and South America. According to the Mayan creation story, gods created humans out of a dough of yellow and white corn.
“SIN MAÍZ,
NO HAY PAÍS”
For Hernandez, opening Maíz de la Vida has been a lifetime in the making. It began after his first few months of life in New York, when his mother was killed by a drunk driver on a Bronx sidewalk. His father sent him to live with family in the Mexican state of Tlaxcala, which means “land of bread or corn” or “land of corn tortillas.”
“I’m from Tortilla Land,” he says with a laugh. “It all makes sense.” Hernandez lived there until he was 11, which he considers a deeply formative period of his life. He and his family grew and harvested corn on their plot of land, drying it to sell to the community in sacks just like the ones he now has shipped to Maíz de la Vida. When the sacks of corn were moved into the house to keep dry, he and his brothers gave up their bedroom until the corn was sold, gradually regaining living space as it went. Each day after school he returned home to warm tortillas and salsa from the wood-fired comal.
Eventually Hernandez returned to New York to live with his father, though that was its own new lesson. “While I was in Mexico, they called me el guero, which means ‘white boy.’ I was the whiteboy in Mexico; then suddenly, at 11, I was the Mexican kid in the Bronx.” That cultural dichotomy has continued to live on within Hernandez. “Am I American or am I Mexican? You go to one country and you get pushed to the otherside, you know. You go to this country and you get pushed back to the other side. So you’re in the in between, which explains a lot of what’s going on [at Maíz de la Vida].”
At 14, Hernandez took his first restaurant job as a dishwasher in a Nepali restaurant in the Bronx. At 16, he hopped on the subway and found himself on Restaurant Row in Manhattan. He walked into Lidia and Joe Bastianich’s restaurant, Becco, where he was hired as a busboy. “I was the worst server they ever hired,” Hernandez says with a grin. “Because, even though I’m very personable, I was always in the kitchen. It wasn’t like I was a bad server; I was just in the wrong part of the restaurant.” He quickly found his way to the kitchen at Becco before working at Spice Market, chef Jean-Georges Vongerichten’s buzzy restaurant in the Meatpacking District. Spice Market was where Hernandez truly cut his teeth in the New York restaurant scene, working grueling hours in a fine-dining kitchen, working with luxury ingredients, and fully immersing himself in the late-night lifestyle of a line cook.
But then, at 21, with a young family of his own, Hernandez was looking for a change from the pressure and temptations of New York. He took a gamble on Nashville, where his brother had just bought a house. Once there, he struggled to find restaurants that interested him or that were impressed with his New York City resume. Nashville’s food was, at the time, focused on a very specific brand of Southern cuisine: Dishes like pecan-crusted catfish, maple butter tenderloin, and Jack Daniel’s sauce over pork or trout were headlining menus. Then he discovered country club life, landing a chef job at a club with an enormous shiny kitchen and the funds to provide outside education. “I learned my Southern cooking there,” says Hernandez. He quickly learned the foundations, from biscuits to meatloaf and squash casserole, followed by educational weekends at chef summits where he studied chocolate making and sous vide.
But there was still a gap in his education: Mexican food. “My whole career was cooking Italian, French, and Asian food, because that’s what pays the bills,” says Hernandez. He applied for a job at a taqueria, despite knowing almost nothing about the cuisine. “Little did the owner know that I had no idea how to make salsa,” he says. “Every Mexican cook can relate to this: We Mexican cooks, males, don’t know how to cook Mexican food because our moms and grandmothers make it for us. The Mexican cooks always make the pasta, the hollandaise, and the burgers.”
MAÍZ TO MASA
Tortilla making relies on a variety of factors: the corn, the water, the molino, the quality of the cal, the weather. It requires a little bit of science, a little bit of magic, and quite a bit of skill. There is no manual, says Hernandez. “There’s no recipe. You have to become a scientist with the [calcium hydroxide]; you have to understand the water you’re working with and the over 200 types of corn you can use. You also have to become an electrician to understand your molino’s horsepower and an engineer to understand maintenance and gear. If your tortilla machine breaks, there’s no tortilla.com that can come and fix your tortilla machine.” The corn is shipped in large bags from purveyors like Tamoa or Masienda who work with small farms in Mexico. It’s cooked in an alkaline solution with calcium hydroxide and soaked overnight to hydrate the kernels. It’s then ground through the teeth of sharpened volcanic stones inside the molino, resulting in a fine dough with a texture loosely comparable to playdough. The masa has to be kneaded enough to develop elasticity and make sure it’s fully hydrated. “My mother told me, ‘You have to blow your palm [after you touch the masa] and it should feel wet like the breeze of the sea.’”
Despite the learning curve, Hernandez got the job and dove headfirst into the world of salsas, tortillas, and Mexican techniques. Then the pandemic hit. Business was booming at the taqueria, which had a to-go window and excellent margaritas, but Hernandez saw it as an opportunity to go out on his own, capitalizing on home cooks’ renewed enthusiasm. He gave a month’s notice at the restaurant and used his savings and stimulus check to buy four bags of corn and a molino. It was a risky proposition: Hernandez needed to make and sell every bit of that masa in order to make enough to fund the next batch, much less pay his bills. Instagram was the vehicle for Maíz de la Vida’s first sales, a pandemic-era technique that delivered in spades. The orders began to pour in as Nashville caught wind of handmade tortillas that were delivered within a 30-mile radius. At one point Hernandez was staying up all night making tortillas and driving them around town all day. A stand at the farmer’s market was the next step for selling his tortillas in bulk, and it was wildly successful. But selling tortillas felt like only one part of the puzzle; Hernandez needed more to share the story of masa—and raise a culture around it.
So, he bought a food truck from his brother, who owns a Colombian restaurant in town, and parked it outside an East Nashville bar called Chopper Tiki. Lines formed as word got out about Hernandez’s crisp wagyu-filled quesabirria, tacos, and quesadillas. Next came a tortilla shop in a strip mall in North Nashville serving as a commissary for the truck, and selling tortillas, salsas, and lunch to-go. And then: a James Beard nomination and an appearance on Netflix’s Somebody Feed Phil, a show with millionsof viewers around the world.
“All I wanted was for people to eat the good tortillas; I wanted to be a tortilla manufacturer,” says Hernandez. “But once I got going, I understood that that was not gonna work.” Suddenly, he says, every tourist visiting Nashville was coming to the taco truck, some eating a taco for the first time ever. “I realized I was being foolish by thinking I could do this, just have a tortilla business without really showcasing Mexican food.”
That’s when the idea for a brick- and-mortar restaurant where the team could serve composed plates—like its complex duck mole negro with warm tortillas—started to take shape. The result is a cuisine unique to Hernandez’s experience and vision.
“Could I make authentic Mexican food in Nashville?” asks Hernandez. “I don’t think so. It’s impossible. It’ll be just like saying that you make beautiful burrata cheese in Nashville that is authentic to Italy. It is not.” So, he’s making good Mexican food for the people in the South. That includes a bowl of grits absolutely packed with corn flavor, punched up with tomato gravy and a queso tostada—a very different version than what’s served on typical Southern tables.
THE TENN-MEX CONNECTION
Currently, the heirloom corn that goes into Maíz de la Vida’s masa is sourced from farms in Mexico, but Hernandez and his crew are working to secure their own local source of corn from the restaurant through a partnership with Caney Fork Farms in Carthage, Tennessee. The plan is to grow heirloom corn for the restaurant. “Corn is the only grain crop that’s indigenous to North America. Now, it’s an industrial agricultural monoculture crop, but it is the native grain grass for our continent,” says Caney Fork farm director Asher Wright. “It’s a cool crop because of the cultural relevance that goes way back to indigenous communities in the way that cereal grains do not, at least on our continent.” Wright sourced different heirloom varieties that both had a chance of cultivation in Tennessee’s climate and most closely mimicked the taste and consistency of Mexican corn. The team finally landed on Cherokee White Flour corn, a variety that traces its genetics from the Cherokee tribes in Tuckasegee, North Carolina, all the way back to northeastern Mexico. Though the first year’s yield was hampered by weather and poor growing conditions, the team plans to try again, mixing in different races of corn and techniques.
The restaurant came to life through a partnership with Andy Mumma, the entrepreneur behind Nashville’s Barista Parlor coffee shops and Chopper Tiki, the bar where Maíz de la Vida’s food truck is now permanently parked. “What initially got me excited about Julio and his food was keeping the heritage of the nixtamal process alive and bringing that to Tennessee,” says Mumma. “He’s showing how amazing and important this [process] is to a whole culture. On top of that, everything he makes is so good; he’s so great at layering flavors.”
They signed a lease in a historic building in the Gulch neighborhood, just south of downtown. It’s located across from Arnold’s, a legendary Nashville meat-and-three that has been serving the traditional foods of Nashville for decades: fried chicken, whipped potatoes, roast beef and gravy, yeast rolls. It’s a juxtaposition that says a lot about the growth of the city’s dining scene. “I think that’s why Julio’s been so successful: He’s introducing a new Mexican cuisine to Nashville,” says Mumma. “The restaurant is probably something that couldn’t have opened four years ago without having served Nashville out of the truck first.”
The first molino Hernandez purchased now sits in the beautiful, modern dining room of Maíz de la Vida, a reminder of where it all started. Mumma took the lead on the restaurant’s design, adding colorful clay pots from local Mexican American artist Cesar Pita and painting the ceiling a bright shade of yellow. To drive home the sacred nature of corn in the restaurant space, Mumma wanted to create an homage using heirloom corn itself. He pulled in the whole team to create a large-scale mural on the wall behind the bar depicting a temple with a sunset behind it. The temple and its rays of sunshine are made of individual corn kernels from six different varieties of heirloom corn. Mumma estimates that there are more than 400,000 kernels in the mural, each one placed there by hand; six different people, including Mumma, Hernandez, and Hernandez’s mother (she was the best at it, according to Mumma) worked on it for months.
The restaurant is now open for lunch, dinner, and weekend brunch with a fullbar showcasing mezcals and tequilas. And it’s getting Hernandez’s message across with dishes like carne asada with a green peppercorn salad, a tuna tostada topped with a mountain of fried leeks, and flautas stuffed with potatoes and cheese and soaking up a pool of salsa verde.
“The only obstacle that we’ve had to overcome is that this isn’t the taco truck in restaurant form,” says Mumma. “It’s another evolution of Maíz.” And that evolution, driven by the energy and ambition of Hernandez and his team, is far from finished.
Charleston’s favorite gourmand burrito spot Minero has found a new home on Johns Island. Chef Shamil Velazquez shared his process in creating the new menu.
For the 20th anniversary of the festival that brings some of the best talent and tastes to the Lowcountry, festival-goers really showed up for Charleston Wine and Food 2025. From One Night in NOLA to Fast Food + Fine Wine, the events were unforgettable. This said, the festival is about much more than just good food and good times. Capturing the spirit of the Lowcountry, the festival celebrates the Southern traditions rooted in Charleston and looks to the future for the sustainable, connected culinary communities across the South.
Tickets for Charleston Wine and Food Festival also support the CHSWF Culinary + Hospitality Fund that aids the diverse and ever-growing culinary and hospitality community in Charleston.
Our Editors’ Best Bites and Sips
Rib tips with marinated coleslaw from Rusty Tucker of Rusty’s Bar-B-Q in Leeds, Alabama
Brisket + mofongo sausage from Christopher Prieto of Prime BBQ in Knightsdale, North Carolina
Taste of Haiti Class
James Beard Award finalist and Top Chef alum Chris Viaud of Greenleaf in Milford, New Hampshire, is a master of many cooking styles. In the “Taste of Haiti” class, he emphasized that Haitian cuisine can’t be confined to a single category. The country’s cooking is as diverse as its people, shaped by regional influences, ingredients, and techniques that have been passed down through generations.
We rolled up our sleeves to cook a true Haitian spread: legume, a hearty stewed vegetable dish; diri kole (rice and beans); banan peze (crispy twice-fried plantains); and pikliz (cabbage slaw with a fiery kick). The flavors were incredible, and—thankfully—the recipes were forgiving. Let’s just say our group was so busy chatting that a few steps may have gone slightly out of order. But if there’s one lesson chef Viaud left us with, it’s that good food is about more than precision—it’s about connection, celebration, and enjoying the process.
Cast-iron Cooking Class
I had the honor of attending the cast iron cooking class with John Ondo, the executive chef of the Atlantic Room and Ryder Cup Bar at The Sanctuary at Kiawah. We made paella, which I love but always thought was too complicated to make at home. Cast iron makes it into the easiest one-pan dish ever.
Some key tips:
A key tip from chef Ondo was using animal fat like tallow or lard is best for seasoning your cast-iron pan, but inexpensive vegetable oil also works.
You can use cast iron to cook fish on the grill with no mess or sticking to the grates, or to reverse-sear a steak in the oven.
Battle of the Scones Class
Joy Wilson better known as Joy the Baker walked us through her tricks for achieving that ideal crumb in scones, and we left ready to recreate them in our own kitchens.
Some key tips:
Joy likes to use both baking powder and baking soda in her scones for extra lift. The baking powder reacts twice—in the bowl and in the oven.
Why have we not been mixing and matching scone ingredients before? Joy’s savory and sweet combos of Zatarain’s spicy sausage with cheddar, chives, and red pepper, and chocolate chips, candied ginger, and orange zest were indescribably good.
Having fun while baking seems to be Joy’s secret ingredient—she’s so clearly enjoying herself that it’s impossible not to have fun right along with her.
From growing up in his father’s Boston-based deli to working in some of the most renowned kitchens across the country, chef Shawn Gawle is eager to open his first restaurant in Houston, Texas, this March. For Gawle, the restaurant and hospitality industry has become deeply intertwined with his story; from garnering rich relationships to pushing himself personally and professionally, the communities forged in restaurants have had a massive impact on his life. This led to the inspiration behind the name for his inaugural restaurant, Camaraderie.
Gawle recalls being drawn toward the atmosphere of his father’s deli in Boston’s South Shore, the smell of rotisserie chickens turning on a spit, the lightly humming music, the chummy banter between employees. The deli began as a poultry farm and kitchen run by his grandfather and then evolved into the deli. Surrounded by this daily community, he committed to “do something [he] has a passion for doing with his life.” As his career expanded and reputation grew, he was often asked to participate in television series and competitions to showcase his finesse, yet for him, this felt like missing the point of the kitchen: community.
At Camaraderie, Gawle hopes to emphasize the communal aspect of kitchens and extend that from mentorship in the kitchen to a collective dining experience. Through the years, he recalls long-lasting friendships that were shaped in the mad-rush of kitchens. “Kitchens are inherently a collaborative environment. The vulnerability, trust, and mutual collaboration is what creates those really tight-knit relationships,” he says. As much as possible, Gawle and his team hope to blur the lines of “transactional dining,” to make guests feel welcomed and participatory in the culture they are crafting at Camaraderie.
“Much like the concept of community and camaraderie, our narrative is layered. People should feel comfortable entering our doors for everything from patio snacking to celebratory dining,” says Gawle. Camaraderie will be situated in the Houston Heights neighborhood, a spot he selected for its walkability, steady hum of traffic, and the established community that thrives there. “I hope that we can add more to 11th street and become a mainstay for the people in the surrounding neighborhoods,” he says.
Camaraderie is housed in a former woodworking shed. Meaning, the Camaraderie team needed to prioritize functionality, comfort, and flexibility in the restaurant’s design. Leaning into Nordic and Scandinavian influences, the space embraces soft tones and natural wood fixtures for a calming, inviting atmosphere.
Camaraderie will function across two dining experiences: the bar, lounge, and patio where guests can order items à la carte, and the main dining room which will host a rotating prix fixe menu with four appetizers, one entrée, and one dessert. The space is split with 46 seats dedicated to the à la carte menu and 34 to the prix fixe menu, but Gawle plans to reserve many of these seats for walk-ins to encourage guests to come on a whim. Upon entering, guests are greeted by a dazzling bar draped in metal mesh with illuminated bar shelving. Camaraderie’s space will simultaneously create intimate and exclusive dining experiences yet remain enough of an open concept that the main dining room is visible from anywhere on the premises.
Gawle’s expertise spans from the pastry side of the kitchen to fine dining, and his menu reflects that unique attention to both execution and creativity. “The menu will center on familiar dishes but with a creative twist,” he says. Think cavatelli made with carrot juice and carrot tops—an elevated, eye-catching, and veggie-forward dish. In-house breads will be technique and ingredient-driven with options like a fusion between a milk bread and a purple potato bread for a fluffy, indulgent, and vibrant roll. Another anticipated favorite is his take on a pepperoni roll: an nduja roll baked cinnamon-roll style then glazed in an alpine cheese sauce. The intersection of technique, creativity, and playful classics will create a menu that balances approachability with genuine excitement. “I’m incorporating the things I love about fine dining and cutting the things we just don’t need. I want the dishes to be hospitable in their presentation and ingredients,” he says.
When you’ve been in the industry as long as Gawle, it’s more than a passion, it’s a life. At the pinnacle of his vision for Camaraderie is creating a healthy restaurant culture that encourages lifelong careers, immovable friendships, and dining experiences that cement themselves as memories.
Take a look at 5 things Alton Brown keeps in his fridge.
Alton Brown launches his farewell culinary variety tour, Last Bite, on February 13, in the same month his 10th book, Food for Thought (Gallery Books, 2025), hits stores. The star of Good Eatsand former host of Iron Chef Americahasn’t let his popularity (and general likability) go to his head, however; when we asked him what his takeaway has been during his culinary journey, his answer was “I’m still not a great cook.” Respectfully, we disagree; anyone who can successfully include Captain Crunch cereal in a sweet and savory tasting experience involving buttermilk, garam masala, and aged cheddar (the first essay in Food for Thought) isn’t giving himself enough credit. But we doagree with his pick for favorite quintessentially Southern food: “Real grits.” —Emily Havener
Five Things in Alton Brown’s Fridge:
1. Champagne
“I usually buy splits because they’re enough for two people,” says Brown, who shares with his wife, Elizabeth Ingram.
2. Asparagus
“The fatter the better,” according to Brown, who keeps it simple when preparing the spring vegetable.
3. Chicken Salad
Brown makes his from roasted chicken leftovers: “I roast a lot this time of year.”
4. Mayonnaise
“Duke’s is my go-to, though we do keep Kewpie around for sushi and okonomiyaki.”
5. Frank Corriher Country Liver Mush
Brown says he’s “not terribly brand-centric,” but this product made in China Grove, North Carolina, holds a certain nostalgia.
Q&A with Alton Brown
We asked Brown about his tour and the special place Southern ingredients play in his life.
TLP: Why did you decide this would be your farewell tour?
Alton Brown: Back in 2013, when I mounted my first tour, I told myself I’d do four and for some reason it feels right to just stick that number. On top of that, touring is really, really difficult, physically, mentally, and emotionally—and frankly, I’m not quite as young as I used to be. Close, but not quite.
TLP: Since your initial Southern biscuit episode in 1999, have you learned anything new about biscuits?
Alton Brown: I have an entire essay about biscuits in Food for Thought, and I do share that one thing, which is that I discovered that my grandmother, whose biscuits were perfect, kept her fingers straight when she kneaded, due to her arthritis. Turns out, that was the secret.
TLP: What’s an ingredient that brings up a special memory for you?
Alton Brown: Cool Whip.
TLP: What else do you typically have in your fridge year-round?
Alton Brown: Kerry Gold butter, Heinz ketchup, and eggs (farm fresh if I can get them).
TLP: Do you have a favorite quintessentially Southern food?
Alton Brown: I have to go with grits. Real grits. Stone ground, hominy grits, cooked long and low, stirred often and finished not just with cheese, but pimento cheese.
TLP: Since starting your culinary science journey, what have you learned that has surprised you the most?
Alton Brown: After all this time, I’m still not a great cook.
Perhaps you consume your buttered biscuits sandwich-style, but I have always followed my Oreo MO, separating the lids from the bottoms, thus protracting the pleasure. I would start with the lids, my eyes rolling back in my head like a shark tucking into a harbor seal, before savoring the bottoms, always butterier thanks to gravity. The next day would offer even more exquisite pleasure, as Ma Mae would split the leftovers, butter them, park the halves on crumpled foil, and toast them, an operation that converted the staling pucks into something akin to tiny English muffins. Even now, fifty years later, I can remember looking forward to spending the night with my grandparents, because: biscuits. — “Biscuiteering”
Reprinted from Food for Thought by Alton Brown, published by Gallery Books. Copyright Alton Brown 2025. Used with permission.
Calling all ladies! Get ready for a girls’ trip to remember in Tupelo, Mississippi. Shop ’til you drop in three fabulous districts, treat your taste buds to the city’s amazing food and craft cocktails, and experience the energy of live music at 15 different venues. It’s time for some serious fun in the city where anything is possible.
Shop Like a Local
Tupelo has three distinct shopping districts, offering everything from antiques to boutiques. Check out L.A. Green, Mint, and Spring in Downtown Tupelo for the perfect spring outfit refresh. The Midtown District offers gift shops, a florist, and home furnishings, offering the ideal spot to update your home or find a memento from your trip with the girls. National brands highlight the Barnes Crossing District, as well as Midnite Pottery, an artist collective and local pottery locale.
Dining Around Tupelo
Tupelo has over 200 restaurants, making it a culinary hotspot in Mississippi. Start your girls’ trip off by booking a charcuterie class at Charcutie where you will have a hands-on culinary experience with owner Stephanie Hall. Learn how to make an elegant charcuterie board complete with artisan cheeses, cured meats, fresh fruits and veggies, and local honey and jams, while enjoying time with the girls. For traditional dining and live music, head to Downunder for a distinctive blend of international pub grub and hand crafted cocktails, coupled with live music for the perfect girls’ night out.
When it’s time for a drink, explore the Tupelo Cocktail Trail and download your digital passport. Visit seven Downtown Tupelo locations and enjoy delicious, local artisan cocktails at each participating restaurant. Once you’ve completed all stops on the passport, visit the Tupelo Visitors Center for a free #MyTupelo cocktail shaker.
Grab a Sweet Treat
Tupelo’s sweet scene offers delightful treats to satisfy any craving, but Crave stands out with its undeniably charming pink aesthetic and delectable desserts. Try the skillet cookie, served in a piping hot cast iron skillet and topped with mounds of vanilla ice cream. For a truly unique taste of Mississippi, head to Queen’s Reward Meadery, the state’s first and only meadery. They craft their mead using 100% Mississippi honey, offering a taste of local craftsmanship and natural sweetness. Imagine your girl gang toasting to friendship with glasses of delicious mead or one of their deliciously frozen mead slushies.
Summer means locally sourced in Tupelo, Mississippi. The city’s chefs serve up creative dishes from the best produce around, adding another dimension to the unique culinary landscape. With more than 160 restaurants, your next great meal is waiting in […]
Preparing for company can be difficult, and the pressure is on to make everything absolutely perfect. Not to worry: Our list of cookbooks will be your all-inclusive guide to outdoor entertaining season. Enjoy good weather, good people, and good food with all of your loved ones, and keep hosting a warm spring breeze.
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