In “A Tale of Two Laredos,” Gravy producer Evan Stern visits Laredo, Texas, which shares history, culture, and memory with its sister city across the border, Nuevo Laredo. For decades, Mexican border towns were renowned for refined, white tablecloth restaurants where jacketed waiters served a café society that transcended international boundaries. Among the most celebrated was Nuevo Laredo’s Cadillac Bar, which opened in 1926 and grew famous for delicacies such as frog legs and Ramos Gin Fizzes until it was forced to close in 2010. 

Chosen for its location on the river we now call the Rio Grande, Don Tomas Sanchez established Laredo as a ferry crossing in 1755. After the Mexican-American war of the mid-19th century, the land was ceded to the U.S. Some long-time residents moved across the river into Mexican territory and founded Nuevo Laredo, while others remained in what became Texas. Laredo has evolved into a bustling and fast growing center of trade that’s now the largest inland port in the United States. Yet the border has hardened in ways that have vastly altered these neighboring cities’ social dynamics. On the American side, 9/11 spurred a wave of counterterrorism and immigration policies that have slowed the process of entry. In Mexico, the 2003 arrest of cartel leader Osiel Cardenas Guillen spurred a protracted turf war amongst rival factions for control of Nuevo Laredo’s prized point of entry. March of 2022 saw gunmen fire shots at the American consulate, whose workers are forced to adhere to curfews and movement restrictions. The US State Department advises against travel there altogether. For Laredoans, movement across the border into Nuevo Laredo—once a part of daily life—has all but ceased.

In Laredo, Stern searches for traces of the Cadillac Bar’s influence on the American side. He hears memories from native residents including Elsa Rodriguez, who shares firsthand how the border’s hardening has altered the region’s cultural fabric. He also visits with Margarita Araiza, chair of the Webb County Heritage Foundation, who discusses how Laredo and Nuevo Laredo were founded as one city in the 1700s and remain inextricably linked. Newspaper veteran and longtime journalism professor Wanda Garner Cash tells of her grandfather, Mayo Bessan, who, sensing business opportunity, fled Prohibition Era-New Orleans to open the Cadillac Bar with gambling winnings. 

Stern also gets a taste of Laredo’s current dining scene through a visit to the Border Foundry, whose owner Pete Mims once hosted a dinner that featured a tasting menu entirely comprised of recipes from the Cadillac. Also on hand to mix an award-winning cocktail is Cesar “Cheese” Martinez, manager of the new Bar Nido, who was named Best Bartender by readers of the Laredo Morning Times. 

In “A Texas Cabrito Communion,” Gravy producer Evan Stern invites us to ride along as he joins the Avila and Aguirre families for a celebratory reunion and cabrito cookout at their YY Ranch, which sits below the Nueces River in Texas. The river once served as the boundary between Texas and the Mexican states of Coahuila and Tamaulipas, and some advocate for viewing this region and Northern Mexico as a singular landscape, united by shared terroir and culture. As a beloved delicacy enjoyed on both sides of the Rio Grande, cabrito—a roasted baby goat nourished strictly on a diet of mother’s milk—brings this philosophy to life.

As Mundo and Luz Aguirre, a couple who have driven in from Monterrey, prepare the feast, Stern explores how this dish that’s now a staple of Easter celebrations was brought to the New World by Spanish Sephardic Jewish shepherds. Faced with the Inquisition’s policies of forced Catholic conversion, they turned to goat as a staple to maintain kosher practice in secret. Eventually, in the sixteenth century, many of these secret adherents began making their way to Mexico. Stern considers issues surrounding cabrito’s ties to colonial history and ethics through a conversation with noted chef and historian Adan Medrano, who grew up traveling between San Antonio and his father’s birthplace of Nava, Coahuila. 

Stern also meets Olmito-based educators and musicians Rosa Canales and Joe Perez, who share early memories of cabrito, which was viewed as “prize” in their Texas hometowns of Premont and Hebbronville. Rosa shares her love of machito, which some call Texas haggis, made from goat innards, while Houston-based chef Sylvia Casares discusses her choice to serve cabrito enchiladas at Sylvia’s Enchilada Kitchen in Houston. She also shares some of the barriers that restaurant owners face in featuring cabrito on menus. 

Concluding with a round of beers by a crackling fire, the voices of Refugio “Cuquin” Aguirre and Peter and Joe Avila reveal how cross-border connections reveal themselves not only in the cooking and sharing of cabrito, but in their family gatherings.

In “Blessed Egg Rolls and the Evolution of Rockport, Texas,” Gravy producer Evan Stern takes listeners to the small town of Rockport, Texas, which hugs the shores of Aransas Bay on the state’s Gulf Coast, about 35 miles northeast of Corpus Christi. There, he visits Saint Peter’s Catholic Church, founded by Vietnamese arrivals in the early 1980s, and whose congregants host a monthly fundraiser selling such dishes as bun, egg rolls, and shrimp. 

Following the collapse of Saigon, in the aftermath of the Vietnam War, hundreds of thousands of Vietnamese, Laotians, and Cambodians fled the Indochinese Peninsula to seek refuge in the United States. While a great many of these people famously resettled and established enclaves in cities like Houston and New Orleans, seeking work in fishing and shrimping, others moved to and impacted smaller, less diverse communities on the Gulf Coast.

For Gravy, Stern explores the challenges of resettlement and this community’s evolution. We hear from congregants including Trang Kelsey, who found comfort in Rockport’s oysters and fish that reminded her of her home island, Phu Quoc. Lyly Nguyen shares how the popularity of her family’s cooking among Rockport High’s football team—pho, lo mein, egg rolls—inspired them to open the successful restaurant, Hu Dat, which now claims three locations in Texas. 

Stern also examines the racial tensions following this mass migration. Noted environmentalist and fourth-generation fisherwoman Diane Wilson, who lives and works up the coast in the town of Seadrift, remembers how misunderstandings between residents and newcomers over misplaced crab lines and unspoken rules gave rise to conflict. Lyly Nguyen recalls harassment and violence following a 1979 territorial dispute that kept her home from school for a week. 

Finally, Stern speaks to Julie La Pam, a shrimper in Aransas Bay; seafood market owner Flower Bui; Saint Peter’s choir director Tam Nguyen; and Father Tung Tran. All proudly call Rockport home and remind us that churches—and communities, and towns, and cities, and nations—are made of people before brick and mortar.

In “A Taste of Sicily on Galveston Bay,” Gravy producer Evan Stern takes listeners to Galveston, Texas. Once perhaps the greatest town of significance between New Orleans and San Francisco, today its population doesn’t even crack the top fifty of Texas cities. But while Austin is often referred to as a small town with growing pains, some say Galveston is really a big city disguised as a small town. Much of this is owed to its immigrant history, as its port provided a point of entry for over 750,000 newcomers from its opening in the 1830s, until the early 1920s. 

Settled by a French pirate and officially incorporated in 1839, Galveston essentially sits on a sandbar that straddles its namesake bay and the Gulf of Mexico. The cotton trade gave rise to a prosperous, cosmopolitan center that enjoyed a trade monopoly as a gateway to Texas before the dredging of Houston’s safer, more accessible inland channel. Galveston briefly rivaled San Francisco as a destination for Gilded Age tycoons. And as a growing city in need of masons, maids, and tradesmen, it proved a desirable terminus for immigrants: Germans, Russian Jews, Poles, Czechs, Italians and Sicilians. 

While thousands of these new arrivals continued to destinations further inland, many chose to plant roots in Galveston. Among the numerous groups who established new homes here was a sizable population of Italians and Sicilians, who eventually established a foothold on the island working as small grocers.

In this episode of Gravy, Stern searches for evidence of this history through visits with the owners of such island institutions as Sonny’s Place and Maceo Spice, whose connections to the old country remain evidenced through their menus. He also chats with Al Tropea, who grew up helping his parents make sausage at Tropea’s Grocery, and author Ellen Beasley, who documented stores like theirs in the 1970s. The result is a rich tapestry of stories and voices, representative of a flavorful side of this most unique city on the Gulf Coast.

In “Noodling with the Texas Wends,” Gravy producer Evan Stern takes us to the small, Central Texas town of Serbin, which was last included in the Census more than 20 years ago, when the population was only 37. But its sign still proudly announces itself as the “Home of the Texas Wends”—and the locals take their noodles seriously. 

An ethnic minority, primarily concentrated in the region of Lusatia—which sits just between Germany and Poland—for generations the Wends wrestled with wars, poverty, and discrimination. Those troubles only escalated after they embraced confessional Lutheranism. By the 1840s, after King Wilhelm III merged non-Catholic faiths into a single, state-regulated body, many began looking abroad. One group of 35 decamped to Texas, and a decade later, around 600 followed. From Galveston, settlers made their way to present-day Lee County, where they named their new community Serbin. 

Those early immigrants constituted the largest single Wendish migration to America, but Serbin’s population has since dwindled as residents scattered to nearby towns. On the last Sunday in September, however, the town comes alive when nearly 2,000 descendants, friends, and family convene for Wendish Fest, a celebration of all things Wendish: beer, coffee cake, and, of course, noodles. 

Noodles are a staple of Wendish tables, from Sunday night dinners to weddings and other special occasions. In Serbin, families have been making them by hand for generations. Stern listens and looks on as the Wends he meets mix dough, roll noodles, and boil them in chicken broth to be enjoyed as a side dish with sausage and sauerkraut. And he learns that beyond sustaining the belly, these noodles have helped sustain an entire identity. 

In this episode, Stern speaks to Serbin resident Jack Wiederhold, along with Becky Weise, Evelyn Bucchorn, and Mike Moss, who make and cook noodles for Wendish Fest. He also interviews the “Noodle Sisters”—including Mildred Perry, Judy Boriack, and Marian Wiederhold—who gather each week to make noodles in Serbin’s Wendish Heritage Museum. Finally, Richard Gruetzner, President of the Texas Wendish Heritage Society, tells of a group of women in the 1970s who worked to keep Wendish culture—and cooking—alive.

Featured Music Jack Wiederhold on organThe Shiner Hobo Band Recorded live at Wendish Fest

For more information, visit www.texaswendish.org www.weisefarms.comwww.vanishingpostcards.com

In “The Gulf’s Last Generation of Black Oystermen?” Gravy producer Kayla Stewart takes listeners to south Louisiana, where Black men have played a key role in the region’s oyster industry—and where today, they are few and far between. Stewart speaks to one of the area’s last Black oystermen about how we got here, and what this means for the future of south Louisiana’s oystering culture. 

Black men have played a key role in Louisiana's oyster industry since the 18th century. During enslavement, they would oyster for their slave owners, and those white slave owners kept the profits from their hard work. After enslavement, Black men in Louisiana and across the South continued to play a key role in the industry. But some of their white counterparts, feeling threatened by the new competition, took steps to limit their success. They implemented laws supposedly set to protect the environment and created a more industrialized industry that requires new, expensive equipment. Over time, it became increasingly difficult for Black men to make a living in the industry. 

Many still found ways to survive and thrive, such as Byron Encalade, who has spent his professional life on the water. A resident of Belle Chasse, a town a little over an hour from New Orleans, he descends from a long line of Black men who oystered for a living. Encalade has raised several children, been an active community member, ran his own business—Encalade Fisheries—and even taught his nephews the oystering trade. But today, Byron says that his generation is likely the last generation of Black oystermen to maintain a dominant presence in Louisiana's oystering industry. Issues like racism, rising costs, and environmental challenges have plagued the industry in the last decade, making it nearly impossible for Black men to continue working in the field.

In this Gravy episode, Stewart speaks to Encalade about the changes he has seen over the course of his career, and the legacy and knowledge lost when Black men lose access to the oyster industry. Imani Black, founder and CEO of the nonprofit organization Minorities in Aquaculture, discusses the historical involvement and participation of African Americans in commercial fisheries, and how racist practices—from pricing to technological change and access to funding—have kept Black people from participating. Finally, Stewart interviews Katrina Williams, a special programs coordinator at Coastal Community Consulting, a nonprofit designed to assist Louisiana’s fishermen. Together, they explore what it means if Encalade and his peers are the last group of oystermen on Louisiana’s coast.

“Buying and Selling Food in the Black South” is the fourth installment in reporter Kayla Stewart’s 2022 Gravy podcast season, where she explores Black foodways in the South and beyond. For this episode, she speaks to Black business owners who are trying to improve food access in Black communities. Stewart explores the history of Black-owned grocery stores and shops, and why these institutions matter in Black communities. 

For centuries, Black Americans have been finding their own ways to feed themselves and their communities. From farms, to grocery stores, to corner store establishments, Black folks in the south have created their own ways to gain access to fresh food, demonstrating that one size doesn’t fit all.

Christopher Williams is the chef and owner of Lucille’s in Houston, and founder of the nonprofit Lucille’s 1913, which aims to combat food insecurity in underserved communities. In the summer of 2022, he opened Bates Allen Farm in the primarily African American community of Kendleton, Texas. The farm’s mission is twofold: making fresh food more accessible, and resurrecting a farming tradition that had previously sustained the community. 

Chris is part of a growing number of Black American culinary leaders looking for ways to provide fruits and vegetables to Black people located in food deserts—low-income areas where a large number of residents lacks easy access to high-quality, fresh food. In Philadelphia, PA, Farmerjawn Community Greenhouses is known for its produce offerings, and at Black Market Kentucky grocers sell healthy food to combat food apartheid.

In April 2022, Christa Williams opened Uncle Willie’s Grocery Store in Columbia, South Carolina. She wanted to bring quality food access to her Black community in the historic Elmwood-Cottontown area, a community that’s been historically underserved. Christa’s vision for the store was rooted in community, like the neighborhood groceries that used to be common in Black communities. While Black Americans make up about 40 percent of Columbia's population, there aren’t many Black-owned businesses. Christa says that for that reason, her store has been a source of pride for the Black people in the city.

Here, Stewart interviews Chris Williams and Christa Williams about their respective projects, exploring different approaches to the question of food access. She also speaks with Dr. Psyche Williams-Forson, Professor and Chair of the Department of American Studies at the University of Maryland College Park. Williams-Forson has written extensively about Black food and identity, most recently Eating While Black: Food Shaming and Race in America, which examines the history of food shaming in Black communities. She delves into the history of Black grocery stores, emphasizing the importance of respect for people’s personal choices. Leaning into lessons from the past and having hope for a better future that makes a range of food options more accessible to Black communities across the South is the most promising way forward.

In the episode “In Houston, Three Tastes of West Africa,” Gravy producer Kayla Stewart takes listeners to her hometown of Houston, Texas, which boasts one of the most vibrant international food scenes in the country. It’s a city where Black Americans have built their own communities and pathways to success, and where diversity is prized. It’s also where West African immigrants—from Ghana, Senegal, Nigeria, and beyond—have created their own stories, including through food. 

To find out why Houston is the center of this West African renaissance, Stewart starts at Safari restaurant, which Margaret and Hector Ukegbu opened in the 1990s. Safari helped appease the homesickness many Nigerians felt when they first arrived in the United States in the late 20th century.

To understand why the restaurant is so significant, we’ve got to understand Houston’s Black community and the landscape of Nigeria during the second part of the 20th century. During the 1960s and 1970s, decades critical to the Black Power Movement across the country, Black universities sought ways to connect with African countries, and vice versa. When the U.S. passed the 1965 Immigration and Nationality Act, it became easier for Africans to migrate to the U.S. Houston universities welcomed a huge number of students from several African countries, particularly from Nigeria. 

This was a period of political instability in Nigeria. The Nigerian Civil War was technically only three years, culminating in 1970 but the war created emotional, economic, and political ramifications. Many Nigerians sought new opportunities in the United States, as did immigrants from nearby countries like Ghana, Senegal, and Liberia. Houston, thanks to its numerous universities, ample job opportunities and hot, familiar climate, was appealing.

And once they were here, they looked for the foods they loved from home. Margaret Ukegbu started cooking and selling Nigerian food out of her home, such as rice dishes and plantains. Eventually, she and Hector opened Safari, which serves traditional Nigerian dishes like pepper soup with goat meat and egusi soup. For 25 years, they’ve served families and leaders from across the West African diaspora. 

Over time, Houston has become an incubator of sorts for West African chefs and restaurateurs to get creative and explore the possibilities of West African dining.

In this episode, Stewart interviews Kavachi Ukegbu, the daughter of Margaret and Hector, who currently runs Safari with her mother. She also speaks with Ope Amosu, the chef and entrepreneur behind ChòpnBlọk, a West African fast-casual restaurant in Houston, who’s on a mission to share the cuisine with American diners and change the narrative around the continent’s bounty. Finally, Stewart hears from Cherif Mbodji, the Senegalese-American general manager of the elegant restaurant Bludorn, about bringing Senegalese food and flavors to fine dining.

In “The Joyful Black History of the Sweet Potato,” Kayla Stewart reports for Gravy on sweet potatoes, which Southern-born Black Americans have baked, roasted, fried, distilled—and long revered. Stewart takes listeners across the United States to learn how African Americans are finding new, interesting ways to enjoy sweet potatoes. 

Harvey and Donna Williams own and operate Delta Dirt Distillery in Helena, Arkansas. Both grew up in Arkansas, and Harvey was raised on a farm that has been in his family for generations. His father began growing sweet potatoes to make efficient use of his small acreage, and Williams grew to love the root for its nutritional value. At a conference, he met an entrepreneur distilling sweet potatoes and decided to try it himself. In 2021, Delta Dirt Distillery was born, earning a host of beverage awards. But for the Williams family, success is about more than medals. It’s about recognizing the history and pride associated with sweet potatoes–a history that’s likely made the product even more compelling to Black Americans in the area. 

Jeremy Peaches is an agriculture consultant who works at Lucille’s 1913, a non-profit organization operated by Houston chef Chris Williams that aims to combat food insecurity in vulnerable communities. While sweet potatoes are beloved for their sweet, earthy flavor, Peaches says they were also one of the first major sources of economic opportunity for Black American farmers, in part thanks to their resilience during the annual harvest.

Though sweet potatoes can be enjoyed raw, roasted, or distilled, there’s nothing quite like the sweet potato pie. To understand how these pies have been comforting Southerners around the holidays for centuries, Stewart steps into the kitchen with restaurateur and cookbook author Alexander Smalls, who explains the history of sweet potato pie and why Black Americans make such a strong claim to the dish. Finally, Joye B. Moore, owner of Joyebells Desserts and Countrysides, tells of the generational traditions that make her famous sweet potato pies so exceptional.

For this episode, Stewart interviews Harvey Williams, Jeremy Peaches, Alexander Smalls, and Joye B. Moore to learn how this root vegetable nourishes Black entrepreneurs, cooks, and communities—bodies and souls.

In “Annie Laura Squalls and Her Mile High Pie,” Gravy producer Kayla Stewart tells the story of Annie Laura Squalls, who, in 1960, became head baker at the Caribbean Room, the popular in-house restaurant at New Orleans’ renowned Pontchartrain Hotel. It was there where Squalls created her “Seven Mile High Pie,” known colloquially as the “Mile High Pie.” But while many people know the legendary pie, most don’t know the baker behind it. 

Squalls was no ordinary baker. Though she never attended culinary school, she could make sweet magic happen, often thinking on her feet to tweak a recipe to perfection. Chef Nathaniel Burton and activist and socialite Rudy Lombard included Squalls’ Mile High Pie recipe in their 1978 book Creole Feast: Fifteen Master Chefs of New Orleans Reveal Their Secrets, writing, “No one could duplicate her expertise.” 

The Mile High Pie is a twist on a Baked Alaska, with layers of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry or peppermint ice cream in a pie crust, topped with tall peaks of meringue and chocolate sauce. The dessert is prominently on display in New Orleans. Vogue once named it one of the city’s most decadent desserts. Still today, it’s the first item listed on the dessert menu in the restaurant at the Pontchartrain Hotel. The hotel promotes their long-running Mile High Club, an exclusive dining experience named for the dish. Yet Stewart found no reference anywhere to Annie Laura Squalls. 

That lack of recognition speaks to a bigger issue. Despite the multicultural influences that have made New Orleans cuisines so globally-lauded, Black pastry chefs, cooks, and culinary innovators have rarely been given adequate appreciation or recognition for their invaluable influences on the city’s cuisine.

In this episode, Stewart speaks to Zella Palmer, chair and director of the Dillard University Ray Charles program in African American Material Culture who aims to trace and amplify the work of Black chefs and cooks in and around New Orleans. She also interviews historian Theresa McCulla, a curator at the Smithsonian's National Museum of American History, and Kaitlin Guerin, pastry cook and owner of New Orleans’ Lagniappe Baking. In her reporting, Stewart shows how remembering stories like Squalls’ allows us to understand a true, fuller history of New Orleans.