03.30.08
The Gastronomist
As soon as the Adroushans arrived in the Frogmore, the Judge leased some office space in nearby Beaufort, where he planned to start a new legal practice. Mrs. Adroushan spearheaded their arrival with a strong dose of Armenian hospitality. The second day after they arrived, the family went shopping at a grocery store on Lady’s Island and then one in Beaufort, and set out to make their first batch of Frogmore stew, and then invited their new neighbors to share in the task of devouring the newcomers’ concoction. The Adroushans apologized repeatedly for their feeble attempt at the dish, but their apologies were repeatedly rebuffed with appreciation.
The Judge’s career prospects were not what they had previously been in California, but Beaufort was not an entirely forbidding environment for an out-of-town lawyer. The town enjoyed a touch of the coastal cosmopolitanism so notably lacking through much of the deep South. Mr. and Mrs. Adroushan strove to break the ice by first dedicating the office to hospitality, inviting various business leaders in for light meals and light conversation. The blindfold was certainly a strike against him, but suspicions were dispatched quickly with some well-placed humor and a scrapbook of their life in California, featuring newspaper clippings covering his career.
The Adroushans hadn’t been in Frogmore for more than a couple weeks when they were referred to the local physician, a practitioner of chiropractic, Gullah magic, applied kinesiology, herbology, and charisma. When the village doc heard of the passion the Judge engendered for Frogmore stew, he pulled the judge aside and advised that the stew was most efficacious when the soul was fully prepared and conditioned to receive the dish. From that point, the Doc and the Judge spent hours together, often in Beaufort at the office. Before long, the Judge was inviting his guests to partake in the varied therapies prescribed by the Doc.
Rather than a dispenser of justice, the Judge began to see himself as a spiritual healer, but he retained his judicial title. “Health,” he’d remark, “is just a form of justice.” He would use applied kinesiology—alias “muscle testing”—to test specific foods against a particular person. He would use magnetic therapy to balance the body’s digestive energy fields. He would use chiropractic to remove physiological impediments to digestion. He would use nutritional supplements, but not to fill physiological needs, for his concern as a gastronomist was primarily with the spirit. Physiological health was secondary. It could only come, the judge preached, from spiritual health, and was really only a component of spiritual health. With this mission, he was, like any good faith healer, able to draw in both the spiritually and physically ill, so he could be described as a restaurateur, a doctor and a priest. His embraced his new mission with a passion that ensured eventual success, but the young enterprise didn’t quite pay the bills in Beaufort, so the Mission had to migrate to greener pastures.
A century before, Laura Towne and Ellen Murray dedicated their adult lives serving the islanders—a combined 85 years. The judge couldn’t hold on quite that long, and returned to California within a year, but the Mission would continue, and it would return to South Carolina several years later. He would vacillate over the years between the dynamic, vibrant spirit of California cuisine and the well-established spiritual benefits of soul food. As he bounced between coasts, his experience and horizons expanded, and the word “mission” grew more and more synonymous with words like “family” and “home”.
© 2008 Dan J. Jensen
