Chef Gabrielle Carter Does Supper Under the Stars
During last month’s Autumnal Equinox in Saxapahaw, North Carolina, I was carried by my Uber deep into the winding roads of what would later be described to me as “Afro-Carolina,” and I was prepared to dine! Chef Gabrielle Carter had invited me to join a group that included farmers, educators, and folklorists and to take a seat at her table which, for the occasion, was set within a local Indigenous property. Carter’s invitation was enticing; it described a supper under the stars, the latest installment of her dinner series Preservation Suppers. Hosted in her local North Carolina, Carter launched the program in the hopes of preserving her heritage and sharing it with like-minded individuals who come hungry.
Carter is best known for her appearance on the Netflix Original docu-series, High On the Hog, which explores the history and significance of food in the African diaspora. Her story, much like many others in the series, is one of rich culture and an even richer family history that starts with cuisine.
As I arrive on-site for dinner, I am reminded that I am on indigenous land; there’s an open barn in a hay filled space of dirt. Just below are acres of wheat up to the shoulders and there you can find Chef Carter and her crew, who are tethered to their work. Positioned parallel to the outdoor flames charring the Red Drum caught earlier that morning is an extended dining table ready and waiting to welcome nearly 70 guests. “I imagine it’s difficult to find land anywhere that wasn’t at some point inhabited by Indigenous folk. It’s become a part of my practice to acknowledge the people who were [forcibly] disconnected from these spaces, as well as the people who were stolen from their Indigenous lands and forced to work stolen land,” she says of the setting.
In her work to put this delectable evening together, Carter connected with local Black, brown, and indigenous farmers, all of whom were on the evening’s guest list. On the tables, okra was used as festive decorations and there were menus that read “Ode to Rural Imagination,” the theme of the night.
There would be an hour or so sitting in the middle of the idyllic fields eating hors d’oeuvres before we’d experience the meticulously curated menu. I spent this time mingling with other guests and exchanging stories of diaspora cuisine, all while indulging in plantain chips and fig. “Tracing seeds and recipes back to various places in West Africa—and the knowings, stories, and technology that they hold—has created a world of possibility for me as I name the things I want to preserve and push forward for future generations,” says Carter. “It’s a part of my inheritance as a child of the African Diaspora to know these things and it’s a cherry on top to apply my own skills to this information.”
The bell rang, and it was time for dinner! Yes. A literal bell rang. One by one, we took our seats; what was really a crowd of strangers invited to dinner felt more like a family affair. I was reminded that this was first and foremost an evening of homage—to the owners of the land we sat on and the ancestors of those present. As each family-style dish made its way to the table, there were collective gasps and many wide eyes, ready to plate.
After losing track of courses, we were finally done. The only light left in those wheat fields were the spotlights just above the dinner table and a campfire going just a few feet deeper into the muddy patch of land. It was time for the stars portion of the evening. The southern sun had been replaced by a gigantic moon that looked as if it had come to hang over the field just for us. Here, there were three telescopes pointed to a clear glistening sky for anyone who wanted to see the heavens up close. In the black and cold chill of the night air, I gazed through and found the glory of Saturn and all of its rings staring back at me.
