The author of The Potlikker A Food History of the Modern South tells his own story, of growing up in a house wrecked by violence and a South haunted by racism. His search for home led him to find escape and belonging through food . . . until he realizes that gathering at table is just one small, imperfect step toward reckoning.
In this unflinching and moving memoir, John T. Edge takes us on a quest for home in a South that has both held him close and pushed him away, as he tries and fails and tries again to rewrite the stories he inherited. Born in a house where a Confederate general took his first breath and the Lost Cause narrative was gospel, troubled by the violence he witnessed as a boy, Edge ran from his past, searching for a newer and better South.
As founding director of the Southern Foodways Alliance and a contributor to newspapers and magazines, he told food stories that showcased those possibilities. In the process, Edge became one of the most visible and powerful voices in American food . . . until he found himself denounced by the audience he once guided, faced down the limits of his work, and returned to his origins to find himself once again. Beginning in Georgia and concluding in Mississippi, his search spans the Deep South and charts a very American story of the truth telling and soul searching it takes to love your people and your place.
John T. Edge writes and hosts the Emmy Award–winning television show TrueSouth on the SEC Network, ESPN, Disney, and Hulu. Edge also writes a restaurant column for Garden & Gun. His 2017 book, The Potlikker Papers: A Food History of the Modern South, was named one of the best books of the year by NPR and Publishers Weekly. Edge serves the University of Mississippi as a teacher, writer-in-residence, and director of the Mississippi Lab. And he serves the University of Georgia as a mentor in their low-residency MFA program in narrative nonfiction. He lives in Oxford, Mississippi, with his wife, the artist Blair Hobbs.
I really enjoyed this memoir, and felt it captured a the way a lot of people grew up in the South, and how they have changed. I was not familiar with the writings of John T. Edge, but will read some of his earlier works after reading House of Smoke. In House of Smoke, Edge talks about his mother, an alcoholic and a woman who loved the pageantry of the "old south". Growing up in a confederate General Iverson's house, Edge learned a fairy tale of the noble Southerner, and in later years he had to come to terms with the fallacies that he learned at home. I could picture his escapades as a Sigma Nu in Athens, listening to the music of REM and spraying cocktails out of a garden hose. I have mixed emotions about his time at the Southern Foodways Alliance - the ending seemed brutal. House of Smoke makes me want to learn more about the South - and how it is reckoning with its past. Thank you Netgalley for an advance reader copy.
"Mississippi is hard on the soul. Mississippi is just plain hard for many. It's a broken place in the slow and fitful act of mending. That's why it feels like home... In Mississippi, I've learned lessons on how to listen and how to love."
The South is complicated. The stories that deserve to be told aren't always the easiest to tell. I wish I could recommend this book to every single person who has assumed the worst when I say I'm from Mississippi. I also wish I could recommend this to my fellow proud Mississippians. It's a tough yet powerful read, largely framed by the food culture of the South. I hope to carry this one with me.
"Why would an image from the aftermath of a Confederate victory in the last phase of the Civil War earn a place of honor in the home of a man who, long gone from the Confederate terrarium in which he grew up, now says that he gives less than one fuck about the guys in gray?" John T. Edge answers his own question honestly and wholly in House of Smoke. An incredible memoir from one of the South's best nonfiction writers.
I have been familiar with the work of John T. Edge for a long time and not only do I enjoy his writing, I’m a fan of his show, True South. As a fellow southerner, he speaks with a cadence familiar to me and I love that he tells southern stories using our food as a conduit. His personal story begins in his boyhood home of Clinton, GA. He eventually made his way to Oxford, MS, where he founded the Southern Foodways Alliance, an organization he headed for 21 years. I remember thinking that it seemed unfair when SFA board members and others within the organization began to call for him to step down. Admittedly, I have no first hand knowledge of the inner workings of the SFA, but I still feel John T.’s biggest failure was his success. Nobody wants to knock someone off a short pedestal. The first thing my husband asked when the book arrived in the mail was, I wish we had Edge’s mother’s recipe for catfish stew. I got all the way to the end of the book and there it was, revised by his wife, Blair. I couldn’t wait to try it, even though stew in our southern summer weather sounded less than appealing. But the cooking gods smiled on me and sent a blast of cooler air our way. The catfish stew was absolutely delicious. I mean, if you are going to write a book and only include one recipe, it oughta be a good one, right? It definitely was and will be added to my favorite soups and stews rotation. If you love the south in spite of its failings, love southern food, in spite of its calories and love a good memoir that takes you to a lot of familiar southern places, read House of Smoke when it debuts on September 16.
House of Smoke: A Southerner Goes Searching For Home. John T. Edge. Crown, 2025. 272 pages.
I'm a sucker for a great southern memoir, and I'm a longtime fan of John T. Edge's writing, so this book is a must-read for me. Edge and I have a lot in common. We're both from small towns in central Georgia, separated by a couple of years in age and about an hour to an hour and half in distance.. His favorite novel is one of my favorite 2 or 3, and we both love food and history and recognize the deep connections between them. Like him, I'm a huge fan of barbecue joints, and I've frequented two favorites of his youth, Old Clinton BBQ and Fresh Air BBQ. His career seemingly is my dream career. Yet, our childhoods and college experiences couldn't be more different. As the founding director of the Southern Foodways Alliance, a contributor to newspapers, magazines, tv shows, and documentaries, and an author, Edge has showcased the South through its food and shown how food has been inextricably linked with who we are as a people and our history, especially the history of the underclass, the minorities - the people that history books often exclude. "Home" is an overarching theme of his writing, specifically the kitchen and the kitchen table. Gathering at the table and breaking bread represent the ultimate form of inclusion and a path to understanding and acceptance. Edge's memoir is about his personal search for the "Home" that he spent much of his life trying to escape. It's all about reckoning: a southerner's reckoning with southern history, a son's reckoning with his chaotic childhood and family life, and a celebrated writer's reckoning with his own hubris and his legacy. It's his story, told masterfully, and it really resonates with me as a white, Gen X southerner, but I think it's more universal than that.
House of Smoke: A Southerner Goes Searching for Home is a raw, courageous, and deeply human memoir that confronts the complexities of family, history, identity, and place in the modern American South. John T. Edge, long admired for chronicling Southern foodways, turns the lens inward to tell a story far more personal and far more haunting than any he has told before.
From the very first pages, Edge immerses readers in the charged landscape of his upbringing: a house shadowed by violence, an inherited narrative shaped by the Lost Cause, and a South that nurtured him even as it wounded him. His journey is not only geographic but emotional and moral a search for belonging, redemption, and truth in a region where the past is always close at hand.
What makes House of Smoke especially compelling is the tension at its core: Edge’s public work as a celebrated food writer offered him a sense of purpose and escape, yet it also confronted him with the limits of storytelling as a tool for reconciliation. As he grapples with backlash, reckonings, and responsibility, he brings readers into the intimate process of reexamining the stories he once told and those he once believed.
With sensory rich prose, historical insight, and unflinching honesty, Edge traces a path through Georgia and Mississippi, revealing how food, community, race, and memory intertwine in the quest for home. The memoir becomes not just one man’s story, but a profound examination of what it means to love a place that has shaped you in both beautiful and painful ways.
House of Smoke is a powerful contribution to contemporary Southern literature perfect for readers who appreciate memoirs that wrestle openly with identity, ancestry, and the long shadows of American history.
House of Smoke is a deeply evocative memoir that combines the personal and cultural to explore what it truly means to search for home. John T. Edge takes readers through the complexities of a Southern upbringing shadowed by violence, racism, and inherited stories, showing how these forces shaped and at times haunted his life.
Edge’s journey is not just a personal reckoning but also a meditation on the South itself. Through his experiences as a storyteller and director of the Southern Foodways Alliance, he reveals how food, community, and narrative can provide both comfort and confrontation. His prose is honest, unflinching, and profoundly moving, blending personal narrative with cultural critique.
For anyone interested in memoirs that illuminate identity, history, and the power of storytelling, House of Smoke is a remarkable exploration of belonging, resilience, and the courage to face uncomfortable truths.
An introspective account of a man who was born in the 60s, came of age in the 80s & 90s, and faced a reckoning in the 2020s. A conundrum that many of that generation face is realizing that much of the cultural foundation you were raised on does not square with your current convictions. And that many of the people you loved dearly, maybe even idolized, believed wholeheartedly in a creed that is problematic.
People are complicated, life frequently does not unfold according to plan and sometimes our best intentions are not good enough. But there is beauty and fulfillment in the unplanned journey, too.
If you enjoy this book, don't skip the "Bookshelf" section (i.e. further reading suggestions) in the back.
A really good read, albeit a bit slow in places. If you read it in John T’s voice, slow becomes lilting, which I didn’t mind.
This is one of the more personal books I’ve read in a while and I can imagine it wasn’t easy to write. While I have no way of really knowing, it seems like good times and hard times were both treated with an even hand. This is one of those books where you want to put your hand on the author’s shoulder and say, “well done, and keep going. You got this.”
When I read about the impact Square Books had in the story, I’m especially grateful that I waited until I was in Oxford to purchase my copy from the source rather than ordering it from my local bookstore.
John T. Edge is only six years older than me but WAY more Southern, since he is a Georgia native later transplanted to Mississippi, with a Faulknerian alcoholic mother and an upwardly-mobile father.
John, whom I know from his writings in The Oxford American and from the excellent and interesting Southern Foodways Alliance podcast "Gravy", takes himself pretty seriously throughout, even in childhood. I did the math on when he arrived at the University of Georgia and was not surprised when the names of R.E.M. and Drivin N Cryin got dropped. Later, after he gets to Ole Miss and is involved with SFA the names start flying again. I don't know if he does this to build cred, or if he's genuinely into the names - I can't tell.
I did like this book, even if he misspells "cattycorner" as "catercorner," bless his heart (yes I know it's an accepted alternative spelling. It's still wrong.) It raises some interesting questions about White people's relationships to Black food, and he mentions enough other writers and subjects that it would be an excellent jumping-off point for someone's Southern cultural anthropology journey. 3.5 stars.
John Edge digs deep and bares his soul. A beautiful story of love deep emotion. From my perspective, I believe his associates in Oxford were narrow minded in light of all of the light he worked so hard to shine on racism. There is money flowing into the Ole Miss coffers because of John. I consider it an honor to know him and to have read this beautiful and enchanting book.
House of Smoke promises to be a powerful meditation on legacy, food, and self-discovery. With unflinching honesty, John T. Edge dismantles comforting myths—about the South, his family, and himself—to uncover a more honest path forward. It’s a compelling invitation to reckon with where we come from and how we choose to move forward.
“Mississippi is hard on a soul. Mississippi is just plain hard for many. It’s a broken place, in the slow and fitful act of mending. That’s why it feels like home.”
I knew I was going to love this book before my daughter even handed me the inscribed copy she’d bought after hearing John T. Edge speak at Off Square Books in Oxford, Mississippi. I’ve followed Edge’s work for years...ever since first reading his essays in the OXFORD AMERICAN. I also know him. Well...not really...I mean, we've met a few times. But I kinda think that I know who he is and where he comes from. Turns out, I had no idea.
Few writers capture two of my favorite things—food and the South—with the depth, nuance, and affection that Edge brings to every page. When I finished his memoir, I sent him a message to say how completely blown away I was. I thought I knew what to expect when I opened HOUSE OF SMOKE, but I only had the faintest idea.
Yes, it’s a memoir, but in just 248 pages it somehow manages to braid together the South, old and new; its food and ideals; the Civil War; the origins of the Southern Foodways Alliance; his television series TRUE SOUTH; the saving grace of love; the families of his childhood and adulthood; and a generous helping of Oxford, Mississippi...one of my favorite places on earth. He makes no excuses for the past (his or ours) yet he writes with deliberate honesty and a sincere hope for the future.