Soul food is rich—not just in taste, pleasure, comfort, but also in history. And yet, as documentary filmmaker Byron Hurt asks in Soul Food Junkies (2012), is this legendary culinary culture also poisonous?
Once you reach the Tomales Bay, you’ll be mere minutes from one of the most pristine shellfish-eating spots in—dare I say it?—the country. You’ll want to keep in mind those windy roads as you slurp down raw oysters, grilled clams, and bottles of BYO wine and beer. It’s a long road back, and you don’t want to get sick
“Liquor is art you can drink,” says Jedd Haas, the master behind Atelier Vie, a spirits studio where artisans collectively workshop the “water of life.”
By the time I entered Selma High School in the fall of 1986, I had grown into myself enough to admit to being “from” Selma. The public schools seemed almost harmoniously integrated, particularly at the high school on Broad Street, the thoroughfare that bisects the town. At the beginning of my sophomore year, the school board hired its first black superintendent, Norward Roussell, a serious man from New Orleans.
