SpiceLines

Acme is the place to go—in season—for stuff like Fresh NC Clams with Down East Collard Stew, Duck Confit Risotto with Local Butternut Squash, Wild Mushrooms and Fried Leeks, and Stuffed Acorn Squash with Farmer’s Market Ratatouille.

In the summer, you can stick your fork into the most luscious Tomato Plate with Fresh Mozarella, and guzzle as many delectable Watermelon Margaritas as you can handle without getting arrested. Now that spring is on the way, there’s pan-seared shad roe, an unsung local delicacy chef-owner Kevin Callaghan describes as ”Southern fried caviar.”

Which brings me to Kevin and his always wry, sometimes hilarious newsletter. Once or twice a week, these little missives land in my email box. I always stop whatever I’m doing—you know, making rose-scented rice pudding or perusing medieval Mesopotamian recipes—to read them. In a world of sincere (and sincerely boring) wine dinner-promoting newsletters, this one breaks the mold.

Sure, Kevin wants us all to come by for Braised Beef Shortribs with Pumpkin Corn Pudding, and when gas prices were stratospheric, beer and wine pegged to the cost of a gallon at the corner station was the hook that reeled us in. But really, he uses the newsletter to riff on whatever’s uppermost in his mind. For example, “professional kitchen gear,” as advertised in catalogs and TV:

“They try to make us wear….giant baggy pant-type things. With Festive Chili Peppers! And Flames! And Tossed Vegetables! And enough free room in the thighs to store slabs of uncooked meat on each hip, just in case of emergency. ‘Did I hear someone needs a crown roast? Let me check…’ Over half the people in the catalogs resemble tawdry culinary mascots rather than honest-to-god line cooks… Why? You don’t see dentists bopping around the office in… neon bicuspids.”

Or, the humiliation a locavore chef endures when taking his junk-food loving children to the supermarket:

“It is not terribly chef like to stand in Harris Teeter watching as one child drools over Little Debbie Zebra Cakes and the other hugs a giant bag of Cheetos Crunchy Twists with a level of affection usually reserved for puppies and grandparents. It doesn’t look good. They should be sorting through the arugula! Picking out their favorite Extra Virgin Olive Oil. But no. Not my kids. They don’t even use the French market baskets that I bought for them. And we practiced that!”

Some of the best weave in Kevin’s memories of growing up Southern. Here he is on the demise of small town gatherings with home-cooked food:

“The whole potluck thing is done. The church supper too….I’m beginning to think the family reunion, alas, has also passed its prime, lingering in our memories like a quaint bonnet-wearing candle-maker in Old Salem. And the food, well, the food is all but gone. Oh, don’t get me wrong. There are an absolute cornucopia of cookbooks that wax nostalgic with recipes. And I’m sure that there are still gatherings where everybody KNOWS not to make Coconut Cake because, of course, Delores is making HER CAKE and, well, that is THE CAKE, after all. And somebody will bring hot crab dip. Maybe oyster pie. Or deviled eggs, And there will always be ham biscuits – sometimes competing platters. And still that great moment when, with great fanfare, it is decided that the tin foil can be pulled away from each bowl and plate and basket. For the rest of us – mediocre Chinese take-out. In creaky Styrofoam.”

Well, the guy can write. If getting this newsletter will brighten up your week, just trot on over (figuratively) and sign up. And if you’d like to try Kevin’s to-die-for recipe for Slow Roasted Pork Shoulder, please go here.

Acme Food and Beverage Company, 110 East Main Street, Carrboro, NC 27510. Telephone: 919-929-ACME. Web: acmecarrboro.com.

I can't resist. Here's one more, in its entirety:

Greetings from Carrboro,