Charlottesville Food

by Casey Ireland

Current trends of heritage cooking, seasonal meals, strict regionality and more efficient methods of using ingredients have been well utilized in Charlottesville. It’s still easy to find a perfectly cooked rib-eye in the city, but less traditional cuts such as tongue, hanging tenderloin and marrow have been appearing on menus. A proliferation of New Southern restaurants brings the taste of childhood and roadside stops in the Carolinas to the area, with the flavors of pimento cheese and pork belly. Yet despite the in-status of fried chicken and ham hocks, there are plenty of West Coast–inspired stops for a more health-conscious—and waistline-friendly—meal. Bowls of delicately scented pho, see-through vegetable rolls, light curries and crisp salads are mainstays around town for those looking to eat well and live well. For a town of its size and location in the Virginia countryside, Charlottesville offers diners trends and taste.

  Though a focus on regionality, seasonality and sustainability has entered the culinary arena, Charlottesville’s roots in a more European epicurean tradition still remain a powerful source of inspiration. Veal sweetbreads in a Madeira cream sauce, house-made charcuterie and artisanal cheese plates with selections from France and the United Kingdom abound at many fine-dining restaurants. Foundational sauces borrowed from French haute cuisine, Northern Italian pasta dishes and flambéed desserts sit comfortably on the menus of many restaurants still successful after the wave of Alice Waters–inspired cooking. The steak chinoise at C&O Restaurant, with its creamy tamari sauce and traditional presentation, is a classic Charlottesville meal alongside a Riverside cheeseburger or a bagel from Bodo’s.

  One of Charlottesville’s greatest culinary successes is its ability to combine the highbrow with the lowbrow, its success with turning local bounty into gourmet excellence. One may pay over $100 for a full meal at Palladio, but the beets in a delicate salad or the filling for plump agnolotti come from farms merely miles away. Perfectly seasoned trout at C&O was pulled out of the streams at Rag Mountain, while both imported San Marzano tomatoes and Rock Barn pork make up a thick ragù at Tavola. The freshest and most unique products at the City Market, farm stand or backyard garden are liquified, sautéed, mashed, grilled or preserved in ways both surprising and comforting.

  In recent years, the craze and demand for local food has seemed to have moved from the high to lower classes, whereas the history of self-sustaining food production seems to be the opposite. Gail Hobbs-Page, former chef and current cheesemaker, has found that “southerners grab onto that way of living” in terms of localized, crafted food on account of “olfactory memory and traditions that were handed down or perhaps coming out of poverty.” She muses, “I think we’re just coming back to what genetically feels like home,” whether that means backyard tomatoes instead of hothouse hybrids or cooking from-scratch mashed potatoes for the first time.96 The instance of Sotheby’s selling off heirloom vegetables for $1,000 translates onto the dinner table as well, with groups such as Outstanding in the Field offering sit-down dinners on local farms for upward of $200 per person.

  The concept of sitting down for a fine meal in the midst of a working farm or cornfield is a study in contrasts. The earthiness and the rusticity of the setting belies the sophistication of the meal, no matter how humble its components. Corn from the field arrives dusted in chipotle pepper powder and liberally sprinkled with Cotija cheese, street food gone gourmet. A herd of cattle heard lowing in the background breaks down into a rather pricey selection of meat options; to put it simplistically, a diner will often pay more for the most simply and naturally raised product. Whether the item is carrots from a certified-organic operation or free-range duck, the challenges of farming and farming sustainably are costs passed on from the farmer to the diner when the farm’s product goes to the restaurant.

  But perhaps the acts of cooking and assembling ingredients to make a dish and then a meal are inventive processes that deserve a diner’s attention—and their money. Chefs, bakers and food artisans in Charlottesville understand the culinary arts so well, transforming their acts of creation into a form of alchemy. Humble sauvignon blanc grapes, dusted in a smoky gray bloom, become a crisp, pale green wine at Veritas Vineyard. This sauvignon blanc, in turn, gets paired with fresh fish from the Chesapeake Bay, lovely on its own but turned flaky and flavorful with brown butter and almonds. Chefs of Charlottesville understand the power of the understated and the unexpected, whether it be tiny rosemary blossoms scattered on zucchini shavings or a perfectly fried potato. These are chefs taught by southern grandmothers, French chefs at ski resorts or Julia Child on TV. Their methodologies and flavors represent current movements in the restaurant world, but their personalities and stories are uniquely Virginian and particular to Charlottesville.

  SLOW FOOD MADE FAST: WILL RICHEY’S CULINARY EMPIRE

  Will Richey, with his homesteader lifestyle and antebellum fashion sense, is one of the most visible and well loved of these culinary characters. Known for his appreciation of both good food and good times, the man who runs Red Row Farm with his family was first known in the area for making really excellent soup. Richey’s ownership of Revolutionary Soup and transformation of the punky soup stops into locavore hotspots preceded his founding of the Whiskey Jar, a southern restaurant known for hearty fare and many selections of the eponymous beverage. Richey started off in the area as a UVA student holding wine tastings and then became a cook at L’étoile, a French restaurant with an interest in Virginian history. He purchased Revolutionary Soup, which had only been open three hours a day and run by “punk kids,” in 2005 at his wife’s urging. In 2012, Richey directed his interests into running his farm and running the Whiskey Jar with his partners.

  A dedication to local food and southern food has informed all of Richey’s food endeavors. Though Richey is the third owner of Revolutionary Soup, he’s “the first to take it in the local food aspect that it is.”97 The two restaurants, located downtown and on the Corner near UVA, are examples of slow food done fast. Hearty stews, delicate broths, filling salads and creative sandwiches have inspired “a dedicated local following, and because of that, we get tourists.” Richey has found that most of his customer base is “a core local office group of people who want to eat healthy and want to eat well who believe in local foods.” In comparison, Richey states, “Whiskey Jar is two restaurants in one”: both family-friendly dining and a popular bar. The food at the Whiskey Jar is down-home and surprisingly traditional, with chickory salads and barbecued rabbit served alongside hush puppies and pecan pie. The restaurant gets tourists as well as “regular people who want to learn the whiskeys.” Many customers come in for live music, though to Richey, the most interesting people are the people coming in for the food.

  Steve Zissou and a collection of spirits along the brick walls of the Whiskey Jar’s bar. Photo by Kevin Haney.

  Richey was raised eating good food and always liked to go to restaurants, even starting tasting groups in college. Working at a wine shop was his first foray into a career as a gourmand before getting a job at L’étoile; according to Richey, working at that restaurant “was the life-changer.” Richey was interested in gourmet food before local food; his interests began with the “French thing and fancy food. Food at its finest.” Richey tells how Mark Reskey, owner of L’étoile, was a big Virginia history buff, interested in culinary questions like, “How can we re-create what the colonialists were eating?” Reskey did research at Monticello and created meals based on that. “It was definitely home,” Richey admits.

  The questions of “Who am I?” and what home tastes like underlie much of Richey’s culinary philosophy. “My family’s from the South,” he states. “We’re Virginians.” With a laugh, Richey tells happy stories of “cooking with old ladies.” While he may have “learned professional cooking from friends,” Richey attests that his best recipes are his mother’s. “I prefer the food eaten by my people,” Richey admits, despite being a self-confessed Francophile with a love of fine wines and gourmet offerings. “I wanted it to be a lifestyle, track
ing heirloom varieties. How did we lose that?” Richey muses. “We’ve lost that in all aspects of the culture—now it’s homogenized and generic.”

  The ingredients and offerings at both Revolutionary Soup locations and at the Whiskey Jar, as well as the ways in which Richey sources his materials, are anything but basic. The percentage of local ingredients he uses at all three restaurants falls down to 50 percent in winter though tops at 80 percent in summer. They purchase local meats all year long; all the proteins at Whiskey Jar are local, and almost all at Revolutionary Soup are local. Richey is influenced by Anson Mills, a Charleston company that is also a big supporter of Southern Foodways Alliance. Richey and his cooks try to preserve a lot of summer produce, at times filling freezers with the last of summer’s tomato pulps. Richey’s goal for the future of his restaurants is increased organization, turning the Corner kitchen into a canning location.

  When Richey’s restaurants can’t get local, they at least try to get organic. “I don’t want to overstate what we do because then it belittles the good things we do,” he attests. “Local dairy would kill you price-wise; we go through so much butter. At home, it’s buy the good stuff, eat less of it, save other places.” Part of Richey’s ability to keep overhead down is his use of large-scale food distribution companies to his advantage. Richey has “made a lot of ground with Sysco” due to a rep who allows Richey to pursue his locavore interests, telling him, “I can source certain local things for you,” like Byrd Mill, Edward’s Ham products and Virginia peanuts. Both a self-confessed “Gen-X anti-establishmentarian” and an optimist, Richey has faith that one can get big institutions to work for the community, not vice versa.

  The map of local products at Revolutionary Soup. Photo by Kevin Haney.

  Chefs like Will Richey, both powerfully individualistic thinkers and savvy businessmen, understand the ideological and financial benefits of working local ingredients into existing food systems. Yet there also exist alongside these practical restaurateurs iconoclasts who would rather rid society of current methods of food production and distribution than recuperate them. If local food is a spectrum, with one end being a fast-food burger joint and the other being a snack of sun-ripened berries eaten in one’s own garden, Brookville Restaurant rests closer to the latter side of the scale. Harrison Keevil, chef and co-owner, understands and anticipates the desires of serious locavores interested in tracing the heritage and history of their meals.

  HERITAGE EATING AND LOCAVORE SENSIBILITIES

  Born and bred in Virginia, Keevil proudly asserts himself as a “Virginia boy” shaped through travels in England and San Francisco.98 “In London and San Francisco, the local food movement just got driven into my head,” Keevil says. “I knew that there was a local food movement in Virginia because I worked on one of the first certified organic working farms in Virginia called Brookview Farm out in Goochland,” Keevil notes. “I was familiar with the practices of sustainably raised meats and eggs and produce, and it was already kind of ingrained in me, even though I didn’t quite know it yet.” The realization of Keevil’s farm-to-table dreams is an inviting space on the upstairs floor of a downtown space, with stretching timber beams and a welcoming atmosphere. “We just want people to feel comfortable, as if they were in their own kitchen because that’s when you get the best conversations,” Keevil says of Brookville’s ambiance. “There’s no VIPs here. It’s like fine dining in your home.”

  And the dining is fine, indeed. Brookville’s menu changes daily, though local ingredients—and lots of pork products—are always a guarantee. Crisp bacon, tender rabbit, handmade pasta and surprising vegetable combinations are hallmarks of Keevil’s cooking. The food is both imaginative and familiar, with comfort foods such as burgers, fried chicken and BLTs redone for even more flavor and sensation. Warm chocolate chip cookies are studded with bacon bits for a pleasing savoriness; beef chili gets a dusting of cinnamon for additional depth. Seasonality is a given, as Keevil sources 95 percent of his products from Virginia. Seasonings like salt, pepper, sugar and spices, as well as oils and citruses, are imported by necessity; otherwise, Keevil likes to keep it strictly local. As a general rule, Keevil refuses to buy products not from the state. “I won’t bring in salmon because someone wants a piece of salmon,” Keevil attests. “If it doesn’t grow in our soil, graze on our grass or swim in the Chesapeake Bay or in our rivers, we don’t use it.”

  A look at the pork-heavy Brookville menu shows that Keevil is not shy about using meat in his dishes. Carnivorous dishes like bacon-wrapped foot-long hot dogs, Surry sausage sandwiches and egg and bacon sliders are available for feasting—and these are only appetizers. However, diners can expect more than rib-eyes or pork tenderloins from Keevil when dining at his restaurant. “We do focus a lot on nose to tail, the other bits,” he states. At Brookville, “other bits” can mean anything from pork belly to whole chickens. His attitude toward meat and toward food in general is almost New Age in its consideration of each ingredient’s and animal’s significance. “It’s our belief that these animals died for us to be nourished and fed, so it’s my job to respect that animal and use as much of the animal as I can,” Keevil attests. “They were treated amazingly well when they were alive, and it was their job to become food for us, so it’s my job to make them shine on the plate and show they did not live a meaningless life.” With items like three-quarter-pound burgers served with bacon marmalade at Brookville, it’s hard to imagine an animal feeling anything less than content with its lot as dinner.

  His insistence on local sourcing and commitment to finding new ways to present Virginia-produced ingredients make a chef like Keevil a prime advocate and partner for farmers both small and large. Keevil easily rattles off producers, farms and individuals with whom Brookville has a direct relationship. There’s beef, chicken, pork and eggs from Timbercreek Organic and produce from a variety of farms all over the area. There’s lamb from Ottawa Farms and seafood from Sam Rust Seafood, a family-owned business in Virginia Beach, so Keevil can rest assured that “any of the fish [Brookville gets] in has been Virginia-landed on Virginia boats by Virginia fishermen.”

  To Keevil and his wife, Jennifer, who co-owns the restaurant and manages the front of the house, farmers are both business associates and friends. “We pick up the phone ten, twenty times a day talking to individual people, saying, ‘How are you, how’s the family?’ and then we get down to business because we have a personal relationship with them, not just a business relationship with them,” Keevil states. In his mind, the occupations of the farmer and the restaurateurs are intermingled, if not mutually dependent. Regardless of friendships, the future of Brookville depends on the growth of Virginia agriculture. To Keevil, “The business relationship definitely leads [Brookville] into being loyal and wanting them to succeed just as much as we are because if they don’t succeed, we can’t succeed.”

  It’s worth examining the fact that Charlottesville’s most local restaurant is also among the city’s more expensive dining options. Most dinner entrées clock in at over eighteen dollars per plate, with its decadent burger costing twenty-two dollars. Brunch items and lunch options are not exorbitantly priced yet cost a diner significantly more than a Bodo’s bagel or donut from Spudnuts. Though Keevil and his wife practice what they preach and maintain an accessible, non-pretentious atmosphere, the average customer at Brookville is not the average American diner. The prices at Brookville, quite simply, are a reflection and continuation of the prices of local, sustainably raised ingredients, which, in turn, reflect the costs and labors of farmers invested in alternative agriculture. In order to provide the most local, freshest and most vibrant ingredients from nearby farms and producers, the food costs and thus food prices at Brookville are often above average.

  Regardless of price, all these dumplings, sweet potatoes and pork bellies make a diner question whether Virginia-local equates southern heritage foods of the Elvis Presley persuasion. The state’s natural growing season, historically grown food cr
ops and particularly multifaceted cooking heritage all contribute to a popular conception that food harvested and produced from a southern area is best made into southern food. Yet while a chicken may be from a nearby farm, if it’s marinated in buttermilk, dredged in flour and cayenne and fried in its own fat, the taste of local can get confused with the taste of a greasy spoon. Chefs such as Dean Maupin at the C&O Restaurant finesse popular local ingredients into haute cuisine. His particular brand of French-American cuisine is almost a direct throwback to Jefferson’s culinary preferences, or at least an era when good taste and good food was synonymous with European flair.

  EUROPEAN TRADITIONS IN FINE DINING

  The C&O is arguably one of Charlottesville’s most exceptional and beautiful restaurants, as well as one of its most well known. Part gallery space, part restaurant, the C&O is pieced together from several floors, units and terraces of a former railway station to create a space of elegant rusticity. A huge, handmade hardwood bar stretches across a first-floor room, trimmed with pine plank walls and an orderly beverage display. The warmth and intimacy of the downstairs bar continues onto the second-floor dining area, while the top floor’s nook of a dining room is more formal, with views looking out over downtown Charlottesville. A knowledgeable waitstaff, bartenders-cum-DJs and a creative kitchen make C&O both a dependable local watering hole and a fine dining destination.

  On first impression, Dean Maupin could be a bassist in a New Wave band instead of a chef trained by French imports in ski resort kitchens. A native of Crozet, Maupin cut his teeth in the apprenticeship program at the Greenbrier Hotel in West Virginia. Rotations on breakfast shifts, sauce shifts and multiple other departments allowed for intensive training in various aspects of cooking for fine dining. Stints at Albemarle Baking Company and the Boar’s Head Inn preceded Maupin’s tenure at the C&O, an originally French restaurant opened in 1976.