VOL. 39 | NO. 26 | Friday, June 26, 2015
Martin, Wilson travel parallel paths to success
By Jennifer Justus
Pat Martin, owner of Martin’s Bar-B-Que Joint, “gave us barbecue,” says fellow restaurateur Tandy Wilson.
-- Michelle Morrow | The LedgerPitmaster Pat Martin of Martin’s Bar-B-Que Joint and Chef Tandy Wilson of City House didn’t know one another in early 2007. Yet they’d soon have more than a few things in common.
They both opened their first restaurants within six months of one another.
They both have a way with pork.
They both helped change the way people eat in Nashville.
And they’ve both probably played some Waylon over their sound systems.
Recently, the restaurant owners have announced a couple new ventures both with Fresh Hospitality restaurant group:
- A Martin’s Bar-B-Que Joint downtown at the site of former music venue, The Rutledge (410 4th Ave., S.)
- A West Virginia pizza joint called Collo Rosso (which translates to Red Neck) for Wilson.
Martin hopes to open his venue by early next year and will concentrate on expertly prepared basics of barbecue, with customers choosing their meat by the half-pound or pound and white bread by a portion of the loaf.
An open beer garden-type area will include space to eat and drink communally as well as various pits and outdoor cooking contraptions.
Meanwhile, Wilson’s new pizza place in West Virginia could also mean a location opening in Middle Tennessee in the future, he says.
But even among the similarities between these two chefs, there are plenty of differences as well.
Wilson spent some time in Napa at Tra Vigne and traveled through Italy before coming home to open his rustic Italian restaurant.
Martin learned to smoke whole hogs from old-timers in West Tennessee.
Wilson opened City House in a sculptor’s former studio.
Martin opened his first Martin’s Bar-B-Que joint above a Nolensville auto garage, ceremoniously hanging a framed poster of Daisy Duke as his first piece of artwork.
Over the years, which have included James Beard nominations and showcase dinners, Wilson and Martin have become close friends.
I hope their mutual admiration and support continues to set a tone of camaraderie among restaurant owners and chefs in this city as the food scene grows.
“A lot of early City House was formed at that place,” Wilson says of planning meetings he held at Martin’s before opening his restaurant.
Pat Martin on Tandy Wilson and City House: “I think that Tandy has been the driving force in town to raise Nashville to what it is now.”
-- Submitted Photograph By Andrea Behrends Then when Martin opened his second barbecue joint in Nolensville, the City House staff showed up at the door. Not necessarily to eat but with sleeves rolled and this question: “What can we do to help?”
We asked the pitmaster and chef a set of questions at separate locations to see how their answers are different – and similar, of course.
Q: How did you meet Pat?
Tandy Wilson: “He came to dinner (at the restaurant) – to Sunday Supper. It wasn’t the first one, but it was within the first five. We did this roasted pork shoulder. It was on a bruschetta with really tender broccoli rabe with garlic and chiles.
“I heard him tell Martha (his wife) that he didn’t want to eat it, because that’s what he does all day… And we’ve been good buddies ever since.
Q: What do you feel like Pat has contributed to Nashville?
Wilson: “He gave us barbecue. He has paved the way for guys like Peg Leg (Porker) to come along. We have good barbecue in an area that’s traditionally been a meat-and-three city.’’
Q: What do you consider Nashville food or food from this place?
Wilson: “We’re sitting in one right now (The Silver Sands Soul Food). And Arnold’s is Nashville food. If you ask my Dad, he went to Hap Townes like three days a week. So meat-and-three is the food of Nashville.’’
Q: Why is pork important to this area?
Wilson: “Not too long ago a family could raise a pig or two to eat and cure over the course of the year. This tradition is as recent as two generations back for many Southerners, and for some, it never left.
“Pigs and the meat they give us have been a source of food and community as long as we have been in Middle Tennessee. Not to mention we have gotten pretty good at making them delicious.’’
Q: Do you feel a responsibility to pass on certain food traditions?
Wilson: “Absolutely. A lot of my family’s recipes you’ll find in the restaurant now. We use them especially on Sundays. But some of that stuff will pop up any day. For years I would call my mom on Sunday’s regularly. So yeah, I think we pass it on that way.
“Jezebel (sauce) would be a great for instance. We didn’t take mom’s recipe for Jezebel; we took the concept and the flavor profile – mustard, horseradish and something sweet – and we created our own. And it’s been a really great thing for us.
“I don’t think people who come through that kitchen and spend time wouldn’t leave and not recreate something like Jezebel. So it’s being passed on that way. And to my kids, it will most certainly be passed on.
“I think as you get a little bit older, I mean I still feel like a pretty young dude, but your sense of yourself and your community only grows. It weighs heavy on my conscious. What can I do for my community on a day-to-day basis? Food is what I can do.’’
Q: How did you meet Tandy?
Pat Martin: “Martha and I went to City House and sat at the chef’s bar. I think I opened six months before he did, so I was new to the food scene, and I guess he was too. He heard me talking about what we were eating and going on about it. We struck up a conversation, and it’s gone from just being industry friends to close personal friends.
Q: What do you feel like Tandy has contributed to Nashville?
Martin: “I think that Tandy has been the driving force in town to raise Nashville to what it is now.... What City House did was help people understand food better and raise people’s palates.
“It was not what they were accustomed to. It was very risky. He had a lot of guts to do what he did and where he did because Germantown was one of the worst areas of town back then. I think he was really the engine that took Nashville to where it is now.
“In a healthy way he doesn’t care. He doesn’t construct his food based on what people might like. He constructs all his food based on what is good and awesome and balanced. And he is on his line working at his restaurant four, five or six nights that he’s open.
“Tandy doesn’t have to work in his kitchen anymore. He does it because he’s head over heels for cooking food.’’
Q: What do you consider Nashville food or food from this place?
Martin: “Traditional Southern food. My whole family is three hours from here in Northeast Mississippi, and the food we ate is not any different than what we eat here or in Atlanta.
“There might be different nuances to it, but I think about breakfast. I think about biscuits. I think about sausage. I think about country ham, and I think about bacon. I think about barbecue. I think about cornbread. I think about tomatoes and vegetables.
“That doesn’t change as you go through the region of the South. I think that’s very much without question Nashville’s roots.’’
Q: Why is pork important to this area?
Martin: “Well, pigs have a lot of sex. They have a lot of babies. It’s a funny way to say it, but when folks didn’t have a lot of money, and they needed a protein source, you could count on the fact that you were gonna turn some pigs over pretty quick.
“I think today, and not just in Nashville but really in the food world, society’s going back to our roots so to speak on what we’re eating – heirloom and heritage and the processes of how we’re doing things. Whether it’s curing hams without nitrates and the natural way.’’
Q: Do you feel a responsibility to pass on certain food traditions?
Martin: “I think that everybody – whether you’re a pitmaster or a chef or baker – you have a moral responsibility to adhere to tradition while also not be so close-minded that you don’t want to learn new techniques to make your food better, but never getting away from tradition.
“Passing that on is so vital. I can’t stand people who have secrets, because first of all there are no secrets. It’s just really more about passing that on. I had these old guys do it with me. They never thought consciously to do it or not do it. They would say, ‘this is how we read our coals,’ and all that stuff.
“Now I’ve got these kids (at the joint) in their 20s and when they show me they have an interest in barbecue – when I see that little bit of fire – I immediately start picking them out to hang out with me at the pit. Hopefully, I pass it on.’’