By Jack Houvouras
HQ 101 | SPRING 2018
As I sit down to write this column, the closing credits are rolling on the season premiere of Anthony Bourdain: Parts Unknown, the Emmy Award-winning travel series exploring cultures and cuisine around the world. The April 29th show was hyped for weeks on CNN as profiling West Virginia, but the nearly 1 1/2-hour episode left me perplexed. Why? The only place featured was McDowell County, the poorest of our 55 counties. And despite Bourdain having glowing things to say about the people of McDowell County, the show was in no way a reflection of the entire state. If the CNN promos had said they were traveling to McDowell County or West Virginia coal country, they would have been more accurate. In any event, all this led me to reflect on my impressions of the state I call home.
The West Virginia where I have lived for 53 years is nothing like the one featured on Parts Unknown. I’ve never eaten bear, squirrel or snapping turtle. I’ve never seen a coal mine. And I’ve only been to McDowell County once to meet Homer Hickam, the author of Rocket Boys, at a book signing.
My travels within the Mountain State have taken me to some truly wild and wonderful locales, all rich in natural beauty. I’ve been whitewater rafting down the New River, the second-oldest river in the world. I’ve been to Snowshoe Mountain in the winter to ski and in the summer to hike, bike and golf. I’ve been zip lining in Fayetteville, caving at Seneca Rocks and fly fishing on the Cheat River. I’ve played amateur photographer at Blackwater Falls, Hawk’s Nest and the grist mill at Babcock State Park. I’ve driven the Highland Scenic Highway, hiked through the Cranberry Glades and spent the night at The Greenbrier. Unfortunately, not one of these spots was shown on Parts Unknown.
Some of the cuisine I’ve sampled over the years is as unique and varied as West Virginia itself. In Huntington, I’ve sampled some of the best hot dogs (with sauce) anywhere, stood in line for Strawberry Pie Week at Jim’s and stuffed myself with lasagna at Rocco’s. Other singular dining experiences include the pimento cheese fries at the Secret Sandwich Society in Fayetteville, biscuits and gravy at Stonewall Resort and Wienerschnitzel at the Bavarian Inn in Shepherdstown. And you can’t leave West Virginia before trying a pepperoni roll at Tomaro’s Bakery in Clarksburg, the fresh trout at the Elk River Inn in Slatyfork or the Five Onion Soup at The Greenbrier.
As for the people, West Virginians have a strong sense of self and place. They are independent, inventive and a tad defiant. They are authentic, warm and welcoming. But above all, they are loyal to one another and fiercely proud of their roots.
When I left Huntington to go to college in Florida, I quickly learned how the rest of the country viewed West Virginia. Whenever a pig or other farm animal was shown on TV, my friends would shout, “Hey, Jack’s getting homesick for West Virginia.” There were numerous references to The Beverly Hillbillies and Deliverance. My nickname was “Country,” shortened from my original moniker of “Country F*ck.” Looking back, the names and teasing really didn’t bother me. These guys were my friends and that’s what friends do.
What did bother me were the misconceptions about the place I proudly call home. In fact, those very stereotypes were the driving forces behind why I started this magazine. I wanted to show readers a different side of Huntington and West Virginia. The Mountain State may not be perfect, but for most of us, it is Almost Heaven.
