Chef Kevin Mitchell and food historian David S. Shields have taken origin stories and other interesting tidbits about the history of food in their new book, Taste the State: Georgia – Distinctive Foods and Stories Where Eating Local Began.
Mitchell and Shields will discuss the book tonight, Aug. 19, at 7 p.m. at The Atlanta History Center.
Along with the stories, Taste the State Georgia includes numerous historical recipes, original recipes by Mitchell, and a foreword by celebrated Savannah chef and author Mashama Bailey.
Shields said his inspiration for writing the book was Georgia’s pioneering role in defining its cuisine, as the first state to systematically promote its food, its ingredients, and dishes. In 1913, the Georgia Chamber of Commerce urged every county and hotel in the state to host a banquet made up solely of local products. Many did, and their menus survived.
Mitchell, a lead instructor at the Culinary Institute of Charleston, was inspired to create a love letter to Georgia—to celebrate its rich and diverse food culture while deepening his understanding of what truly defines Georgia’s culinary identity.
Shields said Atlanta is a character in this story, as it is the place where changes in the food business are most clearly visible, such as the food truck revolution of the past 15 years. It’s also where he first experienced the beauty of Georgia peaches and sweet tea.
Chef Mitchell sees Atlanta as more than a backdrop, but “a place where the past and present coexist—where the legacy of African American culinary traditions remains visible in both home kitchens and on restaurant menus, and where the future of Southern cuisine is being actively shaped every day.”
David and Kevin, you both referenced Georgia’s rich cultural history, including traditions from its indigenous people, colonial settlers, and enslaved Africans. How are these influences reflected in its culinary traditions and the recipes presented in your book?
Shields: There are two ways in which those deep traditions still exert power. The ingredients and specific preparations. Most of the game cookery in the state has Native antecedents. Butterbeans, snap beans, summer squashes, cushaws and pumpkins, Jerusalem artichokes, sweet potatoes, corn, persimmons, are all derived from the agriculture of first peoples. The African pantry with its peanuts, okra, watermelon, sorghum, eggplant (guinea squash), benne (the old low-oil sesame that tastes so good), enriched Georgia cookery, particularly given the dominance of black cooks in the food culture. Settler brought their garden vegetables: the collards, mustard, turnips, asparagus, celery, lettuce, cabbage, and onions. Grains and fruits were European legacies as well: peaches, apples, plums, cherries. The wheat, rye, and barley. We enjoy sharing stories about ingredients and the how traditions are intertwined.
Mitchell: As a chef and educator, I see Georgia’s food as a powerful expression of the cultures that shaped it. In Taste the State: Georgia, we highlight how Indigenous knowledge, African culinary traditions, and colonial influence form the foundation of the state’s cuisine. Indigenous communities contributed land-based wisdom—especially the Three Sisters: corn, beans, and squash—and techniques for preparing wild game, which remain central to Southern foodways. As David notes, the African pantry, stewarded by enslaved Black cooks, holds the most lasting influence. Their skill and deep culinary knowledge gave Georgia’s food its richness. Colonial settlers added ingredients and preservation methods that became part of the Georgia food canon. Georgia’s soulful cuisine is the result of this shared legacy. As someone who teaches and cooks this history, I believe it’s vital to honor these voices—because every dish tells a story of survival, innovation, and identity.
David, were there any ingredients or dishes you were surprised to discover had deep historical roots in the state?
Shields: Mull—the signature Georgia stew—is my starting point. It has an island dimension in shrimp mull and its inland dimensions, Athen’s chicken mull. And a host of outdoor variations: turtle mull, duck mull, even snake mull. I suppose we have to say something about possum and taters, once the state’s signature dish, which has fallen out of favor since the mid-20th century.
For ingredients: America’s best sweet potatoes were bred around Brunswick in the first half of the 19th century. August is responsible for the beautiful, curled mustard you see in producer markets. Also, for the famous Rattlesnake Watermelon, the classic seeded picnic melon that crowned many a church picnic, family reunion, or summer camp feast. Peaches: Georgia may not produce the most in 2025. Still, they breed the best—Dr. Dick Okie’s Prince series of Peaches—all the way back to Samuel Rumpf’s classic Elberta Peach, the model of all commodity peaches from the 1870s onward.
Kevin, how do you see the legacy of African American culinary traditions shaping Georgia’s food culture today?
Mitchell: I see African American culinary traditions not just as part of Georgia’s food culture—but as its foundation. The way we prepare, season, and think about food has been shaped by Black cooks, many of whom never received the credit they deserved. I carry that legacy every time I step into a kitchen or classroom. It’s in rice dishes tracing back to the coast, in potlikker passed around family tables, in the transformation of humble ingredients into something soulful and meaningful.
These traditions aren’t just historical—they’re alive. They’ve adapted, survived, and continue to evolve. Today, in restaurants, farmers’ markets, and culinary schools, there’s growing recognition of these contributions. Chefs and storytellers are digging deeper, asking whose recipes we’re cooking, and giving voice to those who laid the foundation. Preserving and teaching this history is a responsibility. These traditions must be remembered, respected, celebrated, and carried forward.
What dishes do you feel are at risk of being lost or forgotten, and what can we do to preserve them?
Shields: Turtle dishes were once a staple of any formal or hotel dinner in the state. Terrapin Stew, Green Turtle Soup, Cooter Soup. However, amphibians are now increasingly endangered due to habitat degradation. The snapping turtle is one of the turtles whose meat remains available. It lacks the finesse of terrapin. When rice was grown around Savannah, rice birds hovered over fields in the tens of thousands. They fattened on the rice. They were then harvested and sold in Savannah restaurants, broiled in butter. It was the must-have dish. Now the rice bird (bobolink) is protected and can’t be hunted for the market.
Cured mullet roe was another treat. Now, its producers call it bottarga and sell it at exorbitant prices. Much of it doesn’t get on the Georgia market. We did not include the eel recipes that survive on Georgia’s sea islands. Now, every eel commercially caught is purchased by the Chinese, Japanese, or Koreans. Brook trout, which requires very cold and pristine streams to thrive, is a declining population. Georgia is getting warmer, even the mountains.
Mitchell: Preservation of ingredients begins with chefs, farmers, historians, and others. To preserve them, they must ask the questions, conduct the research, and most importantly, spread the word. The work David and I do in this book, as well as our television show The Savers of Flavor, accomplishes all of that. By exposing our readers and viewers to them, we hope that they will encourage their local farmers and producers to plant them and bring them back to the culinary forefront.
What about Georgia’s food identity – is it evolving, or is it remaining rooted in its traditions?
Shields: Georgians do less home cooking in 2025 than at any time before. Fast food and convenience rule, with beverages and snacks abounding. Still, there is always a sense of “our food” that becomes emphatic on holidays and family gatherings. Barbecue remains an enduring beacon. We may eat sweet potatoes French-fried in 2025, just as we did when they were baked in 1975, but they are still sweet potatoes. Peaches and pecans, okra and tomatoes, cornbread and biscuits. More grits are being eaten in 2025 than were consumed in 1925, 1955, or 1975. So, things endure, but they shift. Restaurants have made food more cosmopolitan. Latin food is more popular here, as is Asian cuisine. Georgians eat a lot of sushi.
Mitchell: The food identity in Georgia is evolving, yet it still honors its traditional roots by reimagining them and not replacing them. I see chefs and others diving deeper into not only agricultural history, but also culinary history. There is creative energy; chefs are pushing forward. Chefs are incorporating global influences, growers are reviving heirloom crops, and home cooks are blending old-school techniques with new ideas. Whether it’s a collard green ramen, sorghum caramel, or a modern take on potlikker, by using it to make boiled peanuts, Georgia’s food is expanding without losing its foundation.
Finally, if someone new to Georgia wanted an authentic taste of the state, what dish would you suggest they start with—and why?
Shields: In Washington, GA, one June afternoon, my hostess laid out a plate of June Prince peach slices and a bowl of pimento cheese, inviting me to dip the one into the other. A tall glass of sweet tea was accompanied.
Mitchell: If someone new to Georgia asked me where to start, I’d say start with a plate of Lowcountry red rice, which is closely related to Jollof from West Africa. I would also pair it with a piece of fried fish. It’s a dish that tells you more than just what Georgia tastes like—it tells you who Georgia is.
Red rice is deeply rooted in the Gullah Geechee tradition, brought over by enslaved Africans who used their knowledge of rice cultivation and cooking to transform simple ingredients into something rich, flavorful, and meaningful. You’ve got tomatoes, rice, onions, smoked sausage or shrimp—it’s a humble dish. Still, it carries centuries of culture and resilience in every bite. It is also one of those dishes that connects the coast to the kitchen, the past to the present.
Whether served at a church supper, on a holiday table, or as a restaurant special, red rice captures the heart of Georgia’s food story. And for me, that’s what authenticity is all about—flavor grounded in history. For me, food and ingredients are about connection, whether to my ancestors or to my grandmother, who started teaching me how to cook at the age of six.