"Sugar is contraband."

A few months ago, we were meeting for our writers' workshop — part of our menu of events at The Table — when Gwen Mullins said those three words.

Sugar.

Is.

Contraband.

We were talking about language as power and openings that really sink their teeth into the reader.

Those three words? They punched hard. I was curious, unsettled even: contraband? Sugar?

Gwen kept reading, her essay unrolling into this profound and powerful piece on freedom, food and prison. Gwen, a regional author and University of Tennessee at Chattanooga professor, teaches writing courses at our county jail.

There, sugar is seen as contraband.

And writing is seen as freedom.

"We offer words as plaster for the broken places. Words as seeds, trying to flourish in hard-packed ground. Words as armor, balm, nourishment," she writes.

"Because unlike Ramen noodles and clean socks and pillows, words are free."

This morning, Food as a Verb is proud to offer her complete essay Sugar is Contraband in its entirety on The Table.

Members of The Table can read her beautiful essay here. Interested in another writing workshop? Email david@foodasaverb.com.

Interested in subscribing to The Table? You can do that here, too.

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* I was talking with Josh Carter the other day, just outside the Scenic Roots studio. We'd recorded an interview with our good friend Ray Bassett at Scenic Roots, chatting about Michelin stars, faith, the future of Chattanooga's restaurant scene.

Josh is wise, kind and inviting, one of the best ambassadors of our food scene here; first at the Southside, as an English lit. major — we gotta stick together, Josh — he started busing tables to pay for college, then made his way into the kitchen then ownership: St. John's, then Imbibe.

In the back of my mind, I'd been carrying this question for a while. It goes something like this:

Is there a tipping point for restaurants in Chattanooga? Is there a line we may cross where there are more restaurants than people who'll dine in them?  

Sure, I know: economists will say the market chooses which restaurants make it, which don't. And that's true.

But how does the market choose? What does the market — our market — choose as valuable? 

So, I was mentioning this to Josh in the studio and he said something like this:

"Individually-owned restaurants are going into the neighborhoods," he said. "They're going towards the people."

Towards the people.

"The guests will follow the quality."

He also said lots of other wise stuff, like a lot of life happens around a dinner table and food is a beautiful expression of our culture but it was his line — towards the people — that stuck with me.

So much is here in Chattanooga, so much more is coming. Development near the river, South Broad, further up Main St., the circling back to ground zero — the Aquarium district — where it all began. How many restaurants will open? How many will close?

People follow the quality, Josh said.

Yes, so true.

But who decides quality? Who or what determines a worthwhile restaurant?

Not long after, Taylor Swift released her new album.

And it all made sense.

I've listened to it three or four times now, The Life of a Showgirl. My tastes run towards, well, a more metallic experience, but her music is brilliant to me. Catchy, fun, uplifting and so very, very smart.

People follow her for good reason: her music makes our moments, days, lives better.

She is many things, but elitist is not one of them. Yet, wrapped in her every-girl persona is, well, an elite level of brilliance. Taylor is a brilliant musician and songwriter, yet it's a brilliance that is offered and digested so easily and gladly.

I think we forget the importance — the very precise skill — of that. Taylor presents musical brilliance in the most accessible, pop-wrapped way. Don't confuse the wrapping for the gift inside.

"Will she get the attention she deserves — not as a celebrity or the fiance of Travis Kelse but as a brilliant, intricate writer?" Stephanie Burt asks in the Wall Street Journal.

Burt's essay is so thoughtful; confessing to her own "unconscious snobbery," she explores the way Taylor is regarded and seen, calling her, quite appropriately, a "misunderstood genius."

"More than just a pop star, she's a great songwriter who proves that mass appeal and lyrical subtlety can go together," her essay declares.

This is the goal of every worthwhile restaurant in this city, which is not Atlanta or Dallas.

Can a restaurant offer large appeal while being brilliant at the same time? The first without the second is fast food. The second without the first is highbrow, which usually won't work in this city.

So, Food as a Verb family, here's a question for you:

If Taylor Swift were a Chattanooga restaurant, which one would she be?

Which restaurant blends perfectly a large appeal with technical, skillful brilliance?

Which restaurant offers an experience that makes our days so much better? An experience that perfectly matches appeal and invitation with culinary genius? 

Those are the restaurants the people will follow.

I'd love to hear your answers. Email david@foodasaverb.com. If enough emails come through, we'll publish some responses next week.

* This Sunday, we're planning to bring you a very powerful story from very deep in the woods.

We'll clarify a confusing topic.

We'll offer effective solutions to our environmental troubles.

We'll spotlight good people doing really good work.

Hope you all have a wonderful week.

A reminder: always remember to look up.

Story ideas, questions, feedback? Interested in partnering with us? Email: david@foodasaverb.com

This story is 100% human generated; no AI chatbot was used in the creation of this content.

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