'Koshersoul' author Michael Twitty coming to Twin Cities synagogue Jan. 10

Michael Twitty talks a lot about intersectionality. But one intersection couldn't hold all of his identities. Food writer, scholar, culinary historian, Hebrew school teacher. African American, Jewish, gay man. Instead, he's at the center of a roundabout, with spokes going back in time as he explores the ways food and identity have always intertwined.

The award-winning author of "The Cooking Gene," which explores African-American culinary history from slavery to freedom, and the memoir "Koshersoul: The Faith and Food Journey of an African American Jew," is speaking Jan. 10 at Beth El Synagogue in St. Louis Park about how two major diasporas, African and Jewish, have used food to navigate and overcome oppression.

Twitty, who lives in Virginia, is also the founder of the food blog Afroculinaria, the first devoted to African-American historic foodways and their legacy. The James Beard Foundation named "The Cooking Gene" its cookbook of the year in 2018, with Twitty also receiving the foundation's best writing award. "Koshersoul" was named book of the year at the 2023 National Jewish Book Awards, a first for a Black author.

Twitty spoke to the Star Tribune about his avoidance of lutefisk, his favorite intersectional Shabbat dishes and how food becomes a vehicle for "resisting erasure." The interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Q: Do you have any food plans while you're in Minnesota?
A: One. Avoid lutefisk at all costs.

Q: Ha! Is it the texture?
A: It's the texture, and just the fact that it twerks. All of it.

Q: Tell us about your upcoming talk.
A: I don't demonstrate food. I don't do any foodie things, and it's really important because to be honest, some people like to eat and sit back and just enjoy the fruits of someone else's labor. It is a larger conversation, about food, about memory, about all these big topics that we savor as we get older, but often don't recognize when we're younger. Our identity is in our food, and in the stories we tell about it and around it, and the people who prepare the food and how it's grown and how it's raised, how it's caught, how it's harvested, how it's gathered, how it's prepared. All that stuff matters. And it's a part of our collective biography. And that's what "Koshersoul" is really about. It's about, well, if you're African American and Jewish, how do these two very old, very rooted food traditions that have also branched all over the earth, how do they come together? What do they have to tell us knowing just about these two groups in a Venn diagram, but also about being American?

Q: You're also doing a workshop with teenagers the night before your talk. Why is it important to you to have this conversations with youth?
A: You know, I spent 15 years as a Hebrew school teacher across four movements of Judaism. That's a job I once had and enjoyed everything about — except for the fact that you get up early on the weekend. But right now, we're dealing with a time where Jewish identity is a really big topic of debate within the context of the current conflict. For me, it's really important to address that and talk about my own place in Jewish identity and also in Black identity and expose this particular group of young people who may not have had access to this conversation. It's not every day that they have an African American Jewish person in very white Minnesota talking about intersectionality.

Q: You've talked about how Blacks and Jews have "mediated otherness and oppression" via food. What are some of the ways people have done that?
A: One way is, food becomes a way of keeping alive one's ancientness, one's grandeur, one's pride. We think about these Black women without a cookbook, which was unnecessary, and they kept alive recipes, for example, for black eyed peas. A food which was domesticated in West Africa something like 8,000 years ago. They kept that food going and they found ways to teach their children and grandchildren and have that be passed down for generations. And not only that, but they made it part of the diet of the people who were enslaving us, thus enslaving them to our culture so much so that they don't even realize how entrenched they are in the influences from West African cultures and civilizations. That's a very big one.

On the Jewish side, I think the best example is the Seder. The Seder is layers of Jewish history, layers of survival, layers of overcoming. And it's also the most popular collective ritual in American Jewish life. Part of it is the food, but also the traditions and the customs and the fact that they can be individualized based on one's family, one's national origin and one's approach to Judaism. It's fascinating how, in both cases, and more and more and more, food becomes a vehicle and a way of figuring out: How do I survive this? How do I not just survive, but how do I take joy and pleasure in resisting my erasure?

Q: What would be the perfect Shabbat dinner that best expresses your identities?
A: I have a menu in "Koshersoul" of the Shabbat dinner that is my ideal. There's definitely the yam kugel and the collard greens and rice and matzah ball soup, and then apple crisp for dessert. It's really a blend of my central Southern roots and things I picked up from Mizrahi, Sephardi, Ashkenazi foodways along the way.

Q: How does your gay identity come through in food?
A: Any time men cook, society has always had an ambivalence. So that's one level. But that's just defensive. On a purely happy, joyful level, I think through aesthetics. That's a stereotype, but it's also very beautiful because aesthetics is about taking joy in life. You're making life better. I think people need to understand that's part of the reason why gay men, in particular, have become associated with these things. Despite all the ugliness the world throws at us, the beauty of self preservation, the beauty of appreciating the beautiful — we're pursuing that in the flow of history. In many ways, there's this assumption that we're not part of the flow of history, which is nonsense. We are the James Beards. We are the Bill Neals. We are the Bill Smiths. We are the appreciators of what is heirloom. We are the architects. We are the storytellers. We are the Griots. Food is a way of storytelling, and food is also part of celebrations and parties and pride in being alive.

Q: For someone who is just starting to think about the connections between food and their identity, do you have any suggestions for a practice or a way that, when you step into the kitchen, you stop and think: what is the throughline to this thing I'm making?
A: First you have to talk to elders. The next thing is, you have to remember that they are their own people. Everybody has their own individual relationship with the baggage they were born into. A lot of times, for a lot of people, we ask the question: How was this recipe made? Well, you have to know the story. You have to know the conditions. It's not enough to just be like, I do this and I do that and the other. There's no magic in that. The best recipes are spells. The best recipes are part of a big magic trick, and it's our obligation to tinker with that and figure out how to pass on the best spells for the right blessings and curses.

What: A talk with the award-winning writer, moderated by Michelle Horovitz.
When: Wed., Jan. 10 at 7 p.m. There's also a gathering for teens on Jan. 9 from 7 to 8:30 p.m.
Where: Beth El Synagogue, 5225 Barry St. W., St. Louis Park, besyn.org.
Tickets: Tickets for Jan. 10 start at $50 (free for students 18 and under); get them at tinyurl.com/4zmvytn7

Serves 8.

Note: Make your own vegetable stock by covering with water and slow simmering 3 hours: 2 carrots cut into rounds; 1 onion studded with cloves; 3 pieces mashed garlic; 2 parsnips cut into rounds; 1 turnip, cubed; 1 bunch parsley; 3 celery ribs, chopped; and 1 small sweet potato, cubed. Strain before use. Inspired by Matt's Four Pepper Collards from "The Lee Bros. Charleston Kitchen" (Clarkson Potter, 2013). This recipe appeared in Michael Twitty's "Koshersoul" (Amistad, 2022).

• 1/4 c. canola oil or schmaltz (chicken fat)

• 1 c. red onion, cut into thin slices

• 1 long red cayenne pepper, cut into thin rings

• 1 tsp. crushed garlic

• 1 tsp. crushed ginger

• 1 tbsp. pareve kosher "chicken" consommé powder

• 1 tsp. Kitchen Pepper (see recipe)

• 4 lb. collards, stemmed, trimmed, and cut into long, thin strips

• 3 c. vegetable stock (see Note)

• 2 tbsp. lime juice

• 2 tsp. coconut sugar

• 1 tsp. smoked paprika

• Cooked rice or grits, for serving

Directions

Heat oil or schmaltz in a large pot over medium heat for one minute; after a few minutes, toss in the onion slices; soon they will make a telltale light sizzle and begin to sweat. Add the red pepper, garlic, ginger, consommé powder, and Kitchen Pepper and slowly sweat on low heat for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Raise the heat to medium-high. Add the thin strips of collard greens handful by handful, stirring as necessary. With each batch of three handfuls, quick cook for about 5 minutes. When all of the collards have been incorporated, add the vegetable stock; bring to a boil, and then lower the heat so that the pot settles into a slow bubble. Add lime juice, coconut sugar, and smoked paprika.

Cover and cook on a low simmer for 45 minutes. Remove collards with a slotted spoon and serve over cooked rice or grits.

Makes 1/2 cup.

From "Koshersoul" by Michael Twitty (Amistad, 2022).

• 1 tsp. coarsely ground black pepper

• 1 tsp. ground white pepper

• 1 tsp. red pepper flakes

• 1 tsp. ground cloves

• 1 tsp. ground mace

• 1 tsp. ground Ceylon cinnamon

• 1 tsp. ground nutmeg

• 1 tsp. ground allspice

• 1 tsp. ground ginger

Directions

Mix all ingredients together; store in a cool place. Keeps for 6 months.