F OU R I F BY S E A
With a Side of Hushpuppies
B Y A M A N DA M C DA N EL
to my Yankee college boyfriend (and introduced him to One contains a thick brown the Southern relish condiment known as chow chow). jelly, while the other houses a medley of chopped picked Later, when I met my now-husband, we also faithfully peppers and vegetables. Identifying them and their traveled six hours to visit my hometown together for the respective uses is like an entrance exam to Southern first time and broke bread with my parents over a basket culture for anyone new to the sort of dining group where of Homeplace biscuits smeared with another Southern “Can you pass the chow chow?” is either met with a quick condiment staple, apple butter. reach or a look of bewilderment. Much of my family history is tied to The Homeplace, This table in a towering farmhouse called The and whether the owners knew as much, is irrelevant. Homeplace Restaurant always remains the same in my They saw families come and go, year after year, and in memories. Sitting picturesquely atop a hill at the end of testament to the 38 years that they ran the establishment, a long driveway flanked with fruit trees, the gravel drive I imagine that they had to have known just how much crunches under the tires of approaching cars and the a simple shared meal made such an impact on so many view of a distant pond from its expansive front porch is families’ lives. unchanged. When I learned that The Homeplace The same, too, is the inside of The closed in 2020 due to the pandemic, a Homeplace, with its creaking floor, its piece of my heart shattered. They hadn’t In a culture round wooden tables, and its indelible only been cooking up green beans and scent of fried chicken. The same mashed potatoes there, they’d been where so many weathered faces greet us every time, and nourishing a legacy. traditions are the merriment quickly commences – a In a culture where so many traditions created around family-style passing of overflowing bowls are created around food, nearly and platters, the squiggling of little bodies everyone has a similar type of memory food, nearly trying to sit properly in the chairs, and the rooted in certain meals. Whether it everyone has a infectious sound of Aunt Frieda’s laughter. was your grandma’s pralines, your For more than 35 years, The father’s clam chowder, or the similar type of Homeplace in Catawba, Virginia, was the way Mike Kelly held open memory rooted in epicenter of my family’s celebrations. the doors of his original An aunt or uncle’s birthday always Nags Head restaurant certain meals. meant a trip to The Homeplace, and to greet you with the if an impromptu family member came scent of fresh sweet into town, we headed there, too. Even potato biscuits. after a funeral, the whole family trekked the 30 minutes Here on the Outer Banks, out of town to share a meal together in that grand the restaurants are as much of old farmhouse. Its views of the Blue Ridge Mountains, an attraction as our beaches, too. the warm servings of peach cobbler and the love that Whether you grew up here and gathered around those tables were as impactful to my ate at several old-school locations childhood as any family vacation to Myrtle Beach or like A Restaurant by George, Disney World. Papagayo’s, or Seafare, or My grandparents’ 50th wedding anniversary you’re a visitor who has to get celebration was held inside those four walls. My first love their annual fix of Tortuga’s joined the table during my high school years, and when I coconut-lime chicken, the went off to college, that was where I introduced my family cake-like cornbread from TWO UNASSUMING, UNLABELED CONDIMENT
JARS SIT ON THE TABLE:
18 | S PR I N G 2022
istock.coom/ pamela_d_mcadams
History
Basnight’s Lone Cedar Café, or a bushel of crab slough oysters from Billy’s Seafood, the nourishment you receive at so many of these establishments can be as restorative as the ocean waves. My time on the Outer Banks is particularly intertwined with another popular local haunt. One of my first summers here, I was working at Birthday Suits in Kill Devil Hills when I heard that the Fish Market sold to two guys who used to work down the road at Quagmire’s. That summer Kwan Gray and Kevin Cherry opened the doors at Mama Kwan’s, and I found myself seated at their bar on opening night, where I danced away the wee hours along to a late-night DJ. From that day forward, they fed me lunch in the form of Garbage Plates, quenched my thirst with Bushwackers, and entertained me with stories of Japanese infomercials. When a friend came into town to visit, I inevitably took them to Mama’s for fish tacos. Want to pregame a night that ends up in a hotel hot tub? Mama’s. Looking for a place to go on a very important third date? The front corner of the bar at Mama’s…which is also where my future husband bought us one of our first dinners. And even as Mama Kwan’s celebrated its 20th anniversary this past year, there’s still nowhere else my 11-year-old daughter would rather enjoy a burger and cucumber salad while her dad and I regale her with stories of our early romance. So, to all my local restaurant friends during this busy lead up to the summer months with visitors aplenty: When the hours feel relentless and you’re dreaming of the Septembers of old, please remember the vital importance of your work. You aren’t just slinging burgers and beverages, after all – and someday, even if it’s 30 years later, someone will wax poetically about you over a second round of beers, sharing the kinds of stories that will go on to feed yet another generation of family memories.
