“My art is an exploration of the environments that surround me, both physical and emotional. I like to focus on the interplay between humanity and nature, between structure and chaos.”

“In our family, food and gathering around food was much more than just filling a need of sustenance, it was the way we connected with one another and it held great importance. It mattered what we ate, where we ate, and who we ate with. The meal itself was revered.”

“…The landscape of the South undermines the reality-vs.-imaginary dualism of our modern lives - a space to explore the polymorphous nature of our southern experience. The landscape is not some inanimate object, but a living breathing character, haunted by the spirits of the South both past and present.”

“…Blackberry taught me to tell a story through food and when I left, I wondered what my story was. I decided to dive deeper into my own personal story and learn more about my Jewish heritage. As we build our second restaurant, which will take a deeper dive into Ashkenazi Jewish cuisine than Potchke, it's easy to see that the story we want to tell is just beginning.”

“When I lived in the south it was the introduction of the fall- the harvest of more hearty vegetables like kale, squash, greens and root vegetables. It's comfort - it's rich. You know that winter is right around the corner...”

Art because we must. Art because there is no other way. Like capturing a moment in time through a song or a poem, or a recipe that has been passed down through your family. This is the job of the artist. How do you capture those experiences that leave you particularly enlightened or inspired?

“There’s such a rejuvenating energy that comes with spring. The warm weather initiates the renewal of produce and flowers that have been anticipating their arrival. The flavors of spring allow us to reinitiate vibrancy, embracing the delicate and sweet flavors that we are now able to have again.”

Sometimes I get sad that I don’t live in a place with pomegranates but then I smell the bay ripe with oysters…

You can’t think of your life when a covey rises. It’s all over. Whatever burdens you brought with you have no place here, with them, the wild birds. There is always hope. It is a wellspring. Perhaps the only everlasting resource.

In preparation for our upcoming Dinner Series event with Hunter Evans, we caught up with the recent James Beard Award nominee to talk seasons and place.

Today the sky was empty, no mile-high geese even, and no shots in the distance - was it a full moon last night? But I had plenty of time to listen to the water and to the wind and slow down my heart rate and think. The coffee was good and strong and the sunrise stretched up into forever.

Beans don’t just walk off the field all bright and shiny. They’ve been carried around the world in our palms and pockets, pressed into the warm soil of spring, they may as well be prayers.

The North Delta is a flat expanse of a place that seems to go on forever. Indeed, only a few generations ago the entire place was a swamp bottom and if not for the intervention of man, or perhaps you’d call it invention, or perhaps still, greed, the land would still be mostly underwater for the better part of the year.

It’s gonna be a cold one tonight. First hard frost of the year. Maybe the whitetail will be up and moving into the morning sun renewed by the chill but green leaves and soft petals will fall.

Don’t let the fancy image fool you into thinking that it is difficult to pull off at home, and especially for guests; A julep can be as unfussy as you like, though I do recommend serving it in a julep cup - I also recommend over-garnishing.

Chef Cole Jeanes of Bloodhound Provisions shares his recipe for Huatia Confit Beets from a recent field dinner.

This smoky manhattan variation gets its name from the North Mississippi autumns which Faulkner painted pictures of.

Together they’d ride, in an old bench seated Ford F-series, one county over – Papaw knew a guy would sell beer on Sundays. Nate described the smell, the crops, the rattles in the truck as though he’d been in the cab with him yesterday.

At the root of what EHC represents is a connection between adventure, friends, and food.

Every year, my father spends countless hours picking out pecans that he collects from my great grandparents pecan grove in North-East Arkansas. I was lucky enough to get a bag and used a few handfuls to put together a luscious pecan orgeat.