There are tributes in life that make you proud and others that make you sweat—the Mississippi Press Association Roast of me last week did both. Past honorees have included governors and senators—big names with long résumés. My name beside theirs only made me more nervous. Politicians on one line, a restaurant guy on the next—it didn’t quite add up. I half-expected someone to stand up and say, “How did he get in here?” A few of my friends were probably thinking the same thing.
The honor was real. The pressure was high. A roast can tilt two ways—you leave with a warm heart, or you leave wondering why you ever let people line up to take swings at you in public. The toughest job was choosing the roasters. That’s like being asked to pick your own executioner. There were two routes—safe and predictable, or dangerous and entertaining. I went with the latter. Malcolm White was a natural choice. A longtime friend, fellow restaurateur, and statewide figure who has done as much to celebrate Mississippi culture as anyone I know. Years ago, when I served on the board of the Mississippi Arts Commission, I was on the committee that hired him as executive director. He did that job well, as he does all things, but our connection has always been personal. He knows me on too many levels not to have fun at my expense. Anthony Thaxton was just as obvious. We’ve been working together for over twenty years. For fifteen of those, he was behind the camera filming, editing, and producing Palate to Palate and various other video projects. He’s designed several of my books, collaborated on more projects than I can count, and most recently we co-founded the Institute of Southern Storytelling at Mississippi College. I’ve said it before: Anthony is the most talented man I know. Which makes him both a trusted partner and a dangerous roaster. Brian Hadad was the one I circled with a little hesitation. A friend, a fellow sports nut, and a man with a wicked sense of humor who spends hours every day on radio and podcasts talking to thousands of listeners. He’s quick, sharp, and fearless. Which is exactly what made me nervous. If you’re preparing to be roasted, a professional talker with a fast tongue is the last person you want across from you—and the best. The biggest gamble was Mary Ryan Karnes. A professional comedian and writer with more self-confidence than most people know what to do with. I’ve known her since birth. That didn’t make me more comfortable. Her father, a close friend of mine, seemed to enjoy fanning the flames. Every time I saw him for three weeks, he’d grin and say, “She’s gonna burn you good.” Next time it was, “She’s got more material than you can handle. It’s going to be bad!” By the third week I wasn’t sure if I should be worried about Mary Ryan or about him. The choice was simple: play it safe or hand the microphone to someone who roasts people for a living. I went all in. And she delivered. Sure, she fired her shots. But her remarks turned out to be some of the sweetest and most heartfelt of the night. Marshall Ramsey served as roast master. He’s done it for years and there’s nobody better. Marshall and I wrote a book together and toured with it. He’s one of the most talented and genuine men in Mississippi public life. The day before the roast, I called him to get the lay of the land. He explained his role—keep the night moving, throw in a jab or two, and get everyone out on time. He did exactly that. I had come loaded for bear. My closing remarks were armed with comebacks I thought I’d need to defend myself. But halfway through the evening I realized the tone was different. Every roast came in two halves—barbs and jokes up front, then kindness and compliments on the back end. The balance caught me off guard. The one I feared most, Mary Ryan, ended up being the one who melted me the most.
What I braced for as a firing squad with heavy artillery ended up feeling more like a reunion. I softened some of my comebacks, tossed in a jab or two, and left the stage more moved than roasted. The Mississippi Press Association has always meant more to me than a plaque or a program. I have a 100+ year association with newspapers. My grandfather owned the Hattiesburg American from 1918 until the early 1960s. My father worked there until his death in 1968. I only have two photos with my dad—one from the day I was born and came home from the hospital, and one taken at a Mississippi Press Association convention on the Coast. That’s how deep the thread runs. My brother worked at the paper in the 1970s. My wife, sister-in-law, and mother-in-law worked there in the 1980s and 1990s. By 1999, I was writing a weekly column. I’ve never written a single word from a newsroom—my writing is done in my office or on the road. Restaurants, hotels, buses, even the front seat of a car have all doubled as my desk. Wherever it happened, the column kept showing up each week. I never thought of myself as a writer in those early days. Just a restaurateur scribbling stories. But the emails and letters I continually received from readers told me people were connecting with the words. That kept me going. Eventually the writing improved. One week turned into twenty-six years. More than 1,300 columns. Over 1.3 million words. Today— if for nothing more than sheer volume and time spent— I consider myself a writer (quantity may have carried the day, but I’ll take it). And that is a title I am proud to own. Without this column, there wouldn’t have been books, publishing, or any of what came after. So yes, I survived the roast. Barely singed. And deeply grateful. Thankful for Malcolm, Anthony, Brian, Mary Ryan, and Marshall—for their humor, their grace, and their friendship. Thankful to everyone who showed up. And grateful for the Mississippi Press Association and the century-long thread it has run through my family. With true and lasting gratitude, I thank everyone involved from the bottom of my heart. Onward.
Molasses-Glazed Ham Steaks Marinade 3/4 cup Orange Juice 1/2 cup Molasses 1 tsp garlic powder 1 tsp onion powder 1 tsp crushed red pepper flakes 1 tsp Worcestershire sauce 2 1-pound Bone-In Ham Steaks, In a saucepan over low heat, cook the orange juice slightly and then whisk in the remaining ingredients. Place the ham steaks in a baggie and pour in the marinade, Seal the baggie and refrigerate the ham for 2-3 hours, turning once or twice to make sure all surfaces are covered. Remove the steaks from the refrigerator one hour before grilling. Remove the steaks from the marinade and pour the remaining marinade into a small saucepot. Place the liquid over medium heat and simmer until reduced by half. Using a small paring knife, make small slits through the fat on the outer perimeter of the ham steaks. Grill over direct medium heat until the ham turns brown and crispy. Turn once while cooking. While the ham is grilling, brush the surfaces with the reduced marinade. Remove the ham from the grill and cut into serving sized pieces, drizzle with any remaining marinade. Yield: 6-8 servings
