“Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” I’m not sure who said it first, and I’m too busy eating breakfast to look it up. Whoever it was, I have never felt it more than I do right now, sitting at table 19 in the Midtowner in my hometown of Hattiesburg, Mississippi.
I got back into town last night after two months overseas hosting Yonderlust tours. Two of my friends are meeting me here at 7 o’clock to watch me scarf down a stack of pancakes, several orders of bacon, and maybe a couple of orders of spicy hash browns. They’ve seen me come home from Italy before, so they know what they’re in for.
It was a great fall travel season. We started in Greece, where I bought out an entire hotel in Santorini, loaded seven helicopters for the ride to the monasteries at Meteora, and ate 935 Greek salads (a conservative estimate). There’s no hard evidence, but our group may have kept the Greek feta industry afloat through the third quarter.
In Rome, I bought out the Vatican after hours and had the entire building— including the Sistine Chapel—to ourselves. I’ve walked into a lot of rooms in 65 years, but never one with nobody in it but our people and Michelangelo’s ceiling. When it was over, the guards let me close the massive main door, which is a sentence I never expected to write.
Then came Tuscany, three back-to-back weeks at a villa outside of Florence. My guests made ravioli with Cecilia at La Gramola, ate lunch inside Dario Cecchini’s butcher shop in Panzano, and sat for a tasting inside the late Italian designer, Roberto Cavalli’s private residence.
At the last dinner every week, somebody would lean over around the second course and ask, “Where are you going next?” The ones who have traveled with me before ask early, because they know the tables fill up fast.
Every person who handed me their vacation this fall has my gratitude. I love hosting people, and I love watching a table full of strangers turn into friends by the end of the week. That never gets old.
My wife didn’t make this trip. Our daughter is expecting her first child in mid-December, and the two of them wanted to be close to each other during these last few months. Nothing is wrong, and there are no complications. It’s a mother-and-daughter thing, and I respect it.
Not a day went by that I didn’t miss my family. Though thanks to modern technology, my wife and I Face Timed twice a day, and some of those calls may have run longer than the conversations we would have had when I’m home and bouncing between the restaurants and the office.
Getting here took 20 hours of airports and airplanes, from Florence to Hattiesburg. I don’t love flying, but the trip has never bothered me, because I always know what’s waiting at the other end.
It works in both directions. When I head over there, I know an adventure is waiting. When I head home, I know a Popeyes is waiting.
Every time I land back in America, I find the Popeyes in the first airport before I find baggage claim. This time that airport was Houston, and since I was passing through, I also hit Pappasito’s for steak fajitas, which are among the best anywhere. Fried chicken and fajitas in the same afternoon might sound excessive to some people. I consider it part of the re-entry process, right up there with clearing customs.
This morning, I woke up at 3:30 and went to work. It happens every time I come back. My body still thinks it’s 10:30 in Tuscany, so I’ll be up at 3:30 for a few more mornings until it figures out what time zone it lives in, and then I’ll settle back into my 5 a.m. routine.
My first stop was Loblolly Bakery on Hardy Street for a croissant. This fall I ate my way through bakeries in Greece, London, and all over Italy, and our croissants top every one of them. That makes me proud.
More than that, it makes me grateful for the bakery team that comes in during the dark hours every morning and makes them by hand while the rest of us are asleep.
Now I’m making up for lost time, one breakfast at a time. Pancakes, spicy hash browns, and bacon are headed to table 19 and I have been thinking about this breakfast since Mykonos in September.
I don’t think you’ll find anyone who loves Hattiesburg more than I do, or the entire state of Mississippi, for that matter. Wherever I go, in this country or any other one, I carry it with me. I sing its praises in Athens, in Rome, and in Florence, to anyone who will listen and to a few who won’t.
Some of my European friends have made the trip over here, and they fall in love with Mississippi, too. That might be my favorite part of the whole deal. I spend months showing people Europe, and then Europeans come here and fall for my hometown and home state.
I’m glad to be back with the people I work alongside all year, in the office and in all of our restaurants. There are 425 of them, and they kept everything running while I was answering emails at odd hours from a villa in Tuscany.
I have always said they make me look a lot smarter than I am, and they proved it again this fall.
Most of all, I’m glad to be back with my family. My daughter is carrying our first grandchild, and I get to be here for the last stretch. In a couple of days, I’ll fly to Chicago to help my son pack up his place, and the two of us will drive home together.
He is starting his career with our restaurant group, and he’ll be home in plenty of time to be a doting uncle. I’m guessing we’ll find a place or two to eat between Chicago and Mississippi. Trust me, it will be more than two.
So whoever said absence makes the heart grow fonder knew what they were talking about. I love what I get to do over there. Though two months away reminded me, again, how much I love Mississippi, Hattiesburg, our team, my job, my friends, and especially my family.
It’s almost seven. My friends should be pulling in the parking lot any minute, pancakes are on their way, and I am home. In the words of John Steinbeck, “…once more the world was spinning in greased grooves.”
Onward.
Jill’s Sweet Potatoes
4 cups Sweet potatoes, cooked, peeled and mashed
1 cup Sugar
4 Eggs, beaten
1 cup Heavy cream
3 sticks Butter, divided
1 tsp Cinnamon
1 tsp Nutmeg
1 cup Rice Krispies
1 cup Pecans, chopped
1 cup Walnuts, chopped
1 cup Brown sugar
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Grease a 13 x 9 casserole dish. Combine hot sweet potatoes, sugar, eggs, cream, half of the butter, cinnamon and nutmeg in a bowl; mix thoroughly. Add sweet potato mixture to greased casserole dish.
Combine Rice Krispies, pecans, walnuts and remaining butter and brown sugar into a bowl. Mix until crumbly. Sprinkle over sweet potato mixture.
Bake 40-45 minutes or until center is hot. Yield:10-12 servings
From the cookbook: Deep South Staples or How To Survive In A Southern Kitchen Without A Can of Cream of Mushroom Soup by Robert St. John.
(Robert St. John is a chef, restauranteur and published cookbook author who lives in Hattiesburg, Miss.)