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Business Channing Mathews Community Community Development Food and Drink History Hometown Heroes

Community Cornerstones: Mel’s Cafe

the façade of a restaurant
The façade of Mel’s Café. Photo provided by Channing Mathews

by Channing Mathews

This month my journey through the Black food and wine-ways of Charlottesville led me to Mel’s Café on Main Street, run graciously by its dedicated, self-taught chef and owner, Mel Walker. Mel is no stranger to food reviews, as he has been featured in both local and national news as a go-to spot for visiting foodies. ​​Working in kitchens since 11-years-old and cooking alongside his mother well into her 70’s, Mel reminds us, “I’m not just a soul food place. I’m American food,” which is clear from the extensive and reasonably priced menu he offers each patron.

Born and raised in Charlottesville and a former resident of Vinegar Hill, I was not surprised  that the space facilitates immediate community. While Mel is the heart, it’s the people drawn to his spot that make it home. “I’ve made friends with a lot of folks from UVA and they bring their families. I like that part of it.” It’s a small, humble space where you feel a mix of grease and love cooked into the walls. Images of Mel’s family enrich the space with joy in spite of the grief and challenges that the Mel’s café has endured over the years, most recently being the death of Mel’s younger brother Arthur “Bun” Walker, who worked alongside Mel to feed the community.  

a wall full of pictures
On display at Mel’s Café is a wall of photographs of biological and chosen family. Photo provided by Channing Mathews

It reminds me of my grandmother’s kitchen, where something was always brewing on the stove, and someone was always walking into the house to say hello and get a li’l something to take to their next destination. From flyers of local community events, to the wall of both biological and chosen family, what’s clear about this little restaurant is its role as a cornerstone of the Charlottesville community. Mel serves many locals across the socioeconomic spectrum—from the homeless to the wealthy, Mel welcomes all within his doors and serves everyone with a bright smile and seasoned plates. He even stayed open during the tragedy of August 11, 2017 when a white supremacist gathering turned fatal in Charlottesville. “I ain’t close for that…they shut down the whole downtown. I had people calling me, telling me to close. And I said, ‘I’m not closing up. I ain’t gon’ bother them and they ain’t got no reason to bother me. And I didn’t have no problems. Anybody who came in, they got fed.”

But keeping a small business open is no small feat. As one of the last Black-owned businesses standing on Main Street, Mr. Mel recalls a time when he had few white patrons because the area was considered dangerous as a Black neighborhood. But Mel’s Café still remained popular: “When I first opened, I sold beer, wine, and food. And I had a jukebox. It was all Black then, and people ain’t wanna go home! They played the jukebox and drank beer and wanted to stay all night.”

Entering Mel’s is walking into a living piece of Black history. Once a premier photoshop owned by Mr. Rufus Holsinger, the space hosted over 500 members of the Black Charlottesville community, capturing images of Black life in Charlottesville through portraits of its people in the early 20th century. More recently, the building of Mel’s Café was once known as The Duck Inn, which was owned by a Black couple who were also known for their amazing fried chicken, suggesting that the loving smells of hot grease and seasoning are literally embedded within the walls of the tiny building.  

a meal
A plate of Mel’s freshly fried chicken and a salad. Photo provided by Channing Mathews

Despite it being 10:00 a.m. on a Tuesday, I knew I just couldn’t leave without sampling the crispy fried chicken that Mel always cooks to order. A combination of his self-taught skills and his grandmother’s recipe, Mel informs me that my plate will be ready in about 15 minutes. I hear him bustling in the back kitchen and listen carefully for the sizzle of the chicken dropping. Almost 15 minutes on the dot, Mel brings me a fresh plate of hot chicken, fresh out of the grease. It’s too hot for me to dig in, but the picture doesn’t quite do it justice.

 The first thing I notice about Mel’s chicken is the CRUNCH. The delightful crunch is just the starting point to this traditional southern fried chicken. Shamelessly I huff and blow while chewing, trying to cool the hot bits in my mouth. But even that does not prevent me from getting a good taste of the seasoning, which is light but tasty and fresh. After scarfing down my meal, I eat a salad with the hopes of staving off the food coma, otherwise known as the “-itis,” that is sure to come in about an hour.

 While dining at Mel’s was a local treat, the best gift was the smile and hug Mr. Mel Walker gave me as I thanked him for the interview. “Make sure you come back and bring your friends!”

I was indeed back the following week with my partner, excited to enjoy Mel’s warm presence and delicious food after a long work week.

Categories
Business Channing Mathews Community Community Development Food and Drink

Pass the Cornbread!

by Channing Mathews

When I think of cornbread, I am immediately transported to my maternal grandma’s Floridian kitchen, where both my grandma and eldest Auntie were always cooking up a storm. My grandma’s tiny house would be filled with the delicious smells of collards, stewed catfish, and saffron rice, with gravy bubbling nearby. But nothing beat the cornbread. That curiously warm mostly-bread-but almost cake always had me on my tippy toes, peering into the kitchen hoping that I would get that warm corner bite…you know, the one with crunchy edges. And that sweet savory bite of yellow goodness and golden sunshine hitting my tastebuds is ingrained in my memory forever…and is my standard for excellence.

My momma took crunchy edges to the next level when she introduced a cornbread variation, cracklin’ bread, into our lives and into my always hungry belly. In this version, my momma used yellow cornmeal and added in pieces of pork crackling, which is essentially pieces of crispy and chewy pork skin– think of bacon with more emphasis on the lard– and jalapeño…whew, chile! You talk about DELICIOUS!

Though my momma’s side of the family stuck to yellow cornbread, my papa is notorious for his skillet white cornbread. I would watch in fascination as he made what Southerners call “hoe-cake bread.” Using a black skillet, I would watch him pour the white cornmeal batter into the hot pan, sizzling as it landed. As bubbles percolated the top of the gooey mixture, he would flip the cake in one swoop, exposing a crispy brown underside. Once done, the dense brown cake was ready to serve, and I’d be salivating over every crispy crunch.

As an adult I still love cornbread in its many varieties, and the stories that come with them. Even in my own family, you can see the evolution of cornbread and its many varieties. Cornbread is a traditional food that can be found across many Black holiday dinner tables across the US. Whether we are celebrating Thanksgiving or just having a regular Sunday dinner, you will often hear a “Pass the cornbread” as you pile your plate with deliciousness.

The three versions of cornbread that capture my childhood– yellow/sweet cornbread, crackling bread, and hoecake bread– are all representations of a blended history between Indigenous and Black enslaved people’s cooking that have been passed down through our generations. As food historian and author Michael Twitty notes in his book, The Cooking Gene, cornbread is rooted in the cooking practices of Indigenous peoples across what is now known as the Southeastern United States and Mexico. Twitty outlines how teosinte seed, the ancestor of the corn/maize varieties that we know in America today, was grown by hundreds of Indigenous groups to nourish the masses. Simultaneously, corn remained a staple across many African cultures, traveling with enslaved groups to the Americas where our ancestors recreated dishes reminiscent of the lands they once knew and blended them with Indigenous practices that form the roots of Southern cooking today. My dad’s hoecake bread comes from our enslaved ancestors who mixed white cornmeal, water, and occasionally a little salt, which often came in the form of ash, to form a dense pancake-like batter that was cooked on a hoe in an open fire. My mother’s cracklin’ bread could be considered a “wealthy” version of the hoecake bread, where small bits of meat available to our ancestors could be stretched by mixing it with cornmeal and preserving its nutrients to feed the endlessly working bodies who tended local crops. In reading Twitty’s book, I continue to be amazed at what our people were able to do with so little, and how much we have yet to discover about our contributions to Western culture.

My emerging journey as a food and drink writer is a search for uncovering more of these stories, of how our most beloved foods came to fill the spaces of our most beloved communities. Furthermore, I seek out the ways new food spaces are honoring the ways of our ancestors, springing us back to the memories of our childhoods, and, in my case, on the floors of my grandma’s kitchen.

This week, my search took me to check out The Ridley, an upscale, Black-owned restaurant in Charlottesville on Main Street that serves Southern cuisine. As expected, the Ridley featured a skillet cooked cornbread packed with sweet and savory bites, among them honey, whipped butter, cracked pepper and chives. And HONEY! You talk about good! As my friends and I enjoyed our meals, I was transported to my grandma’s kitchen as I savored every sweet and savory morsel…melded together perfectly with a good dollop of butter. Though the Ridley boasts a solidly southern menu featuring seafood, burgers, steaks and our favorite veggie sides, the cornbread was by far and above my favorite choice of the meal. What made the meal extra sweet was knowing that some of the proceeds from our meal were going towards the Ridley Scholarship Program, a merit-based scholarship program that recruits talented Black students to attend the University of Virginia. The program, along with the restaurant, is named in honor of Dr. Walter N. Ridley who earned a doctorate of education from the University of Virginia, becoming the first Black graduate of the University in 1953.

Thanks to The Ridley for transporting me back to my grandma’s kitchen, and for celebrating the legacies of our ancestors.