The guardian. [volume] (Boston, Mass.) 1901-1960, 1939-08-05

fessionals from all over town.
All these restaurantuers boast of
genuine barbecue chefs who know all
about the stuff. However, not only our
folks are going for barbecue, but you
can find Jews, Italians, Greeks,
Chinese and Polish advertising barbe-
cue.
Secrets
Those in the know claim that the
great secret in barbecue is in the
sauce, and that's hard to initiate or
duplicate. A chef who recently emf
grated to Harlem from Louisiana vol
unteers a receipt for barbecue sauce,
that sounds mighty good, and proba-
bly, tastes better. The sauce has
twelve ingredients, but he says it is
less complicated than it sounds The
ingredients are: quarter of a pound
of butter, a teaspoon Of dry mustard,
dash of cayenne pepper, teaspoon
OF tabascO pepper, two tablespoons
of tomato catsup, two tablespoons of
lemon juice, two tablespoons of vine
gar, half teaspoon of garlic salt,
tablespoon of tomato sauce, two table
spoons of finely chopped parsley and
a quarter cup of water. This recipe is
sufficient for basting two chickens or
prOportionate quantities of meat-up
to six pounds.
Perhaps the colored chefs reluct-
ance to share the mysteries of barbe-
cuing has some deeper significance
than the mere desire to guard a trade
secret; other than an understandable
distrust of recipes which reduce the
rites of the kitchen to a scientific for
mula. Cooking is an art, mysterious
and undefinable, that the white people
may discuss in terms of half cups and
other fractionals just as he speaks of
strang things like calories and vita
mans. But to us folks, chicken is
chicken and pork is pork, not a certain
number of the delicate proteins, and
we find them responding to our best
cooks who cajole flavor and tender
ness over the fire while passing few
magic words.
Many dainty red tipped fingers and
crimson painted lips are yet bit
skeptical in being soiled by those
juicy tasted ribs or chicken-especi-
ally in public. But believe me gals
and boys, after a merry jam session
in the cocktail lounges, night clubs
and hideaways, where the revelry of
ten results in over indulgence, there
is nothing that will cover up your
imbibed inhibitions more cleverly than
barbecue
In Conclusion
My friends, readers, people, folks,
n everybody, this article might be a
column unbecoming to the scheme of
things, but l feel that as a writer of
human interest, this topic is as worthy
subject as the Worlds Fair, or Radio
City, as it might be Gust down your
street." | mean your stomach, and
hope your mouth waters" I plan to
tell you about some of the swell Span
ish food and West Indian feasts I've
enjoyed, in a future column. 1t all
comes in my category-Harlem. The
N. Y. Worlds Fair boasts of every
thing of Importance in the world
but no barbecue.
Special by Air Mail
By Miss Beatrice Turner: The sec
ond midnight show of Kansas City's
IdJlOlldlly huOWu v lllC DJIGGI are
ties" set the audience swinging in
rhythm with Harlem Leonard and his
fine aggregation. AS a special guest
artist we had June Richmond, lovely
vocalist with Andy Kirk, who thrilled
the crowd with her rendition of
"Honeysuckle Rose" Applauses from
the audience and cries of Encore"
forced Miss Richmond to return to the
stage, and it was most certainly APP
preciated. Members of the Andy Kirk
were spotted throughout the happy
throng.
The music furnished by Harlan
Leonard and his Kansas City rockets
was highly acclaimed. Darwin Jones
and James Ross scored wonderfully
doing the vocals; Willie Smith, a re-
plica of Count Basic, took the honors
at the piano; Freddie CULVER aroused
the patrons with his grand work at the
tenor-sax; and Jesse Price, the mad
drummer, successfully supplied the
tom-tom work. Uncle Jimmie Ruffin,
our proud emcee, welcomes all visitors
to Kansas City, if you plan to come
west to the Golden Gate exposition.
Love to my school chum in New York,
Miss Tavern Riley; I'll be in Harlem
and for a visit to the Worlds Fair in
few weeks, on my way to Washing