What is the power of a meal?
What is the power of a meal? Can food transport us through time? For me, the answer is yes—and I owe it all to Helen Turner over at Helen's Bar-B-Q.
For most of my life, Ms. Helen has been mindfully stoking the wood fires that slow-smoked barbecue in my hometown. Drive through Brownsville at the right time, and you could follow the savory scent of that smoke to a tiny, wooden shack tilting over with memories.
After 30 years of visits, I can walk through the two-table dining room in my mind and feel the crunch of potato chips between my fingers. I can taste the sugary, purple fizz of grape drink; and I can wander through the memories of meals shared with family and friends on those tables.
Impromptu family reunions. The outrageous time we dared to ask Helen if her ribs were any good (She put some learning on us that day). And countless, countless fishing trips with dad.
In truth, the smell of that smoke, the tang of that Cole slaw and the greasy, dripping sandwich wrapper holding a pulled pork treasure are synonymous to me with dad. I can't think of Helen's—can't hear her name—without remembering sunny days on the lake with my father. More often than not, those days ended with a visit to Helen.
I know we were not alone.
I did not take this photo. Another photographer working for National Geographic Traveller in the U.K. did. Such was her reach. From a town that had barely more than one stoplight, Helen's hard work created a legend that wafted its way around the globe. Far in the field, from the wetlands of Brazil to the Himalayas where the closest restaurant was a YakDonalds a half day's hike away, I have found myself daydreaming about that barbecue shack in Tennessee.
Helen earned international recognition. She garnered every award imaginable. She always took her time. Always did it the right way.
After a lifetime of memories and stories, all that's left to say is thank you. Thank you, Helen. I'll miss your hickory smoke time machine.
Photo of Helen Turner by Simon Urwin, UK