Hattie Hess, known as “Miz Hattie,” recently sold her barbecue stand at the Hudson Valley Food Hall in Beacon.
Why did you decide to sell?
I’m getting old, so I better do something. I’ve never traveled in my life or enjoyed the simple things, like watching butterflies in my backyard. [She planted milkweed to attract them.] I’ve always worked hard and — guess what — I’m still doing catering. I turned my garage into a catering kitchen and built a professional-grade smoking area. I’m going to do Friday night, down-home, members-only fish fries. I am going back to North Carolina one day, but I’m not ready to take that trip yet. Not today.
How did you end up in Beacon?
I wanted to be a pastry chef and came up to the Culinary Institute [of America, in Hyde Park] in 1986. We were looking for a house and bought the second one we looked at in Beacon, an old Victorian, for $76,000. I met [basketball coach] Digger Phelps’s mom and worked for her, worked at Castle Point with the veterans and then started teaching [special education].
What was it like at the Culinary Institute?
Even though I came from the South, it was the first time I ever experienced point-blank, in-your-face racism, as the only Black person in class. One teacher passing out an assignment walked right past me, didn’t even acknowledge me. That made me a stronger person, but they were so arrogant and let me know I was not welcome. Once, I was in the lobby, so hurt, and that same professor walked right past me — I’m crying, boo-hoo — as if I didn’t exist. I didn’t have completely smooth sailing as a child, but people left me alone. I was a crazy little girl and would fight in a minute.
Did you ever think of expanding beyond the food hall?
I adore the food hall. It was my first self-owned restaurant, and it seems like it came to me and was meant to be. I knew nothing about it until a member of my book club called me up and said, “Hattie, do you know about the new food hall?” And I said, “No, and it’s 7 o’clock in the morning.” I was in Brothers restaurant and saw a ring of keys on the ground and tapped the man [standing nearby] on the shoulder. He turned around and it was Dave Buckley, the former building inspector. He said, “Hey, Miz Hattie, I just know you’re going to the new food hall because you make the best barbecue.” So, I went in and it was love at first sight. They said, “Pick out your spot.” Everything food-wise has to be authentic and they were choosing carefully to get the mix right.
How did the building inspector know about your food?
He inspected my home kitchen, and I also did all the festivals. Pete Seeger would come by and say, “Don’t forget my chicken.” I did the Pumpkin Festival, the Strawberry Festival, the Corn Festival, the Clearwater gatherings in Croton-on-Hudson. I did cook-offs in Texas, North Carolina, Virginia, New Paltz. Once, in Texas, my chicken won fifth place out of 500, so that’s pretty good.
Miz Hattie’s Southern-Style Character, by Deb Lucke
