Princess Pamela was a culinary force in 1960s and 70s New York City, reigning over her tiny, yet legendary, Alphabet City restaurant, Princess Pamela’s Little Kitchen. More than just a place to eat, her restaurant was a vibrant slice of Southern soul, serving up authentic Soul Food with a side of her larger-than-life personality. Her story, recently brought back into the limelight with a reissue of her out-of-print cookbook, Princess Pamela’s Soul Food Cookbook, is a poignant exploration of food, identity, and the enigmatic nature of a true culinary original.
Princess Pamela’s Little Kitchen wasn’t just any eatery; it was an exclusive experience. Situated in her railroad apartment, a floor above a Chinese takeout spot in Manhattan, gaining entry was part of the mystique. Potential customers buzzing apartment 2A were met with suspicion. Princess Pamela, as she called herself, questioned them intensely, especially about their Southern roots. Sometimes, she claimed, she could just sense if they were the right kind of people. For those she knew and trusted, a simple shout from the street would suffice for her to toss down a key.
Inside, the space was intimate, barely 120 square feet, accommodating no more than 15 guests. Yet, it was her kingdom. Corrugated ceilings, black refrigerators, green-checked tablecloths, and mismatched chairs created a unique, homey atmosphere. The walls, initially cerulean blue, became a gallery of portraits of her diverse clientele, ranging from Gloria Steinem to Ringo Starr.
A Taste of Soul and Sass
Once inside, Ada Spivey, the restaurant’s cook, would take orders. The menu, dictated by Princess Pamela’s whims, often featured soul food staples like sweet potatoes and collard greens. Dining at Princess Pamela’s wasn’t a transaction; it was an invitation into her home. Guests were expected to behave accordingly. Using the restroom without permission could result in being physically escorted out of the stall. Complaining about wobbly chairs could lead to a swift eviction. Disrespecting Princess Pamela was an unforgivable offense, resulting in a permanent banishment.
However, for those who lingered into the night, the Little Kitchen transformed. The doors would be locked, and Princess Pamela would emerge in a red wig and a gold lamé dress. The room dimmed, morphing into a jazz salon. Surrounded by percussionists, including her lover Bobby Vidal, she would sing with a voice as smooth as a nightcap, adding another layer to the unique soul food experience she offered.
From Kitchen to Cookbook: The Soul Food Bible
While the daily menu at the Little Kitchen was fluid, Princess Pamela’s culinary philosophy was solidified in her 1969 cookbook, Princess Pamela’s Soul Food Cookbook. This collection of 147 recipes was a testament to her life and culinary journey. Born in Spartanburg, South Carolina, orphaned at a young age, and self-reliant from 13, she poured her experiences and Southern heritage into this now-iconic soul food bible.
The cookbook is unapologetically Southern, a celebration of dishes like pork spoon bread, peanut butter biscuits, ham hocks, oxtail ragu, catfish stew, and pickled pig’s feet. For decades, the original paperback editions were fragile and rare, almost lost to time.
Thanks to the efforts of Matt and Ted Lee, known as the Lee Bros., the cookbook was reissued in a handsome hardcover edition by Rizzoli. They recognized the book’s integrity and poetic voice when they discovered it in a used bookstore in 2004, initiating a campaign to bring Princess Pamela’s soul food wisdom back to a new generation.
The Doyenne of Soul Food in New York
Princess Pamela became a culinary sensation, particularly in the East Village. She earned the title of the doyenne of soul food in New York at a time when such restaurants were scarce. In an era where her identity as a Black woman with a Southern accent could have been limiting, she defied expectations and carved her own path in the culinary world. Her success was singular and unprecedented.
Yet, in 1998, she closed the doors of the Little Kitchen, and shortly after, vanished from public life. The reasons behind her restaurant’s closure and subsequent disappearance remain shrouded in mystery.
Spartanburg Roots: The Making of a Soul Food Pioneer
Even Princess Pamela’s birth name is uncertain, possibly Addie Mae or Mary Strobel, born between 1927 and 1929. What is known is her deep connection to Spartanburg, South Carolina, a recurring theme in her cookbook and her identity as a soul food chef.
Cooking was ingrained in her family. Her mother, Rosella, known as Beauty, was the pastry chef at Spartanburg’s Elite Restaurant. This culinary talent extended to her uncle, Isaac, also a pastry chef. Raised by her grandmother, Addie, after her mother moved away for work and later passed, Pamela grew up in a household where food and hospitality were central.
Addie’s home was a community hub, with a constant flow of guests experiencing her generous hospitality. These “play mamas” gave young Addie Mae the nickname Pamela. While her mother envisioned a different path for her, Pamela’s passion was always in the kitchen, dreaming of owning a restaurant, even imagining Noah’s Ark as a potential eatery.
Tragedy struck early. Her mother died when Pamela was ten, followed by her grandmother a year later. At 13, Pamela bravely set out on her own, heading to Winston-Salem, North Carolina, with nothing but her mother’s suitcase and a diamond watch. She started as a dishwasher, eventually working her way into cooking, honing her skills and solidifying her culinary aspirations, rooted in Southern soul food traditions.
In her cookbook, Princess Pamela fondly recalled her connections with Jewish and Italian communities, acknowledging a shared resilience and warmth born from hardship. This openness and ability to connect with diverse people likely contributed to the unique atmosphere of her Little Kitchen in New York.
Arriving in New York City around 1950, she worked various jobs before taking the leap to open Princess Pamela’s Little Kitchen in 1965. With just a dollar in her pocket, she relied on the support of her Italian and Jewish neighbors, who literally pinned money to her wall to help her launch her dream of serving authentic soul food to the city.
A Kingdom of Kindness and Soul Cookin’
Princess Pamela’s initial menu featured soul food classics: fried chicken, collard greens, and black-eyed peas for $1.35. Oxtail stew and potato salad were also staples, each plate accompanied by biscuits, cornbread, and salad. Apple cobbler was the dessert offering, with only water and coffee to drink. The restaurant opened late and closed whenever Princess Pamela felt like it, operating on her own rhythm and rules.
She envisioned her restaurant as a neutral ground, a “Kingdom Come” where the only passport needed was “lovin’ kindness and a good appetite for soul cookin’.” Hospitality, for her, was built on mutual respect, echoing the welcoming spirit of her grandmother Addie.
Despite early praise and growing popularity, including a review from The New York Times, Princess Pamela’s temperament remained unpredictable. Ruth Reichl, then a young food enthusiast, experienced this firsthand. A simple request for sweet potato pie, playfully phrased by her friend, resulted in Princess Pamela angrily ejecting them from the restaurant, showcasing her uncompromising nature and fiercely protective stance over her soul food domain.
Even Andy Warhol, in his diaries, described Princess Pamela in vivid, albeit unflattering, terms after a visit in 1979, highlighting her flamboyant persona and offering a less-than-glowing review of the food, further cementing her reputation as an unforgettable, if polarizing, figure.
However, for Alexander Smalls, a chef and restaurateur from her hometown of Spartanburg, Princess Pamela was an inspiration. He saw her as a symbol of Southern ambition realized in the North, recognizing the authentic soul food experience she created. Their shared Spartanburg connection forged a bond, with Smalls always feeling welcomed and embraced by Princess Pamela.
Soul Food Beyond Recipes: Intuition and Feeling
Princess Pamela’s cookbook, in many ways, seems to contradict her restaurant’s ethos of spontaneity and feeling. Cookbooks are inherently about precision, yet Princess Pamela emphasized intuition in her cooking. As a 1966 review noted, she cooked by “feeling—soul—rather than measurement,” a core tenet of soul food tradition, passed down through generations.
Food historian Toni Tipton-Martin argues that Princess Pamela’s Soul Food Cookbook is less a rigid manual and more a “clever retort to scientific cooking,” a personal diary of culinary knowledge. The reissue includes notes from the Lee Bros., filling in the gaps in her often-impressionistic instructions, offering a bridge between her intuitive style and the demands of a cookbook format, making her soul food accessible to a wider audience.
Adrian Miller, author of Soul Food: The Surprising Story of an American Cuisine, sees the 1960s as a “culinary declaration of independence for soul food.” Princess Pamela and her contemporaries were asserting Black culinary excellence, creating spaces where soul food was celebrated as a cuisine “for us, by us, that white people can’t understand,” a powerful statement of cultural pride and culinary identity.
Despite this culinary renaissance, soul food was often, and still is, unfairly stereotyped as unhealthy. Carla Hall, chef and restaurateur, emphasizes the importance of Princess Pamela’s cookbook in recognizing the artistry and depth of Southern cooking. She points out the common misconception that Black women are just naturally good cooks, diminishing the skill and artistry involved. Princess Pamela’s work, and the current rediscovery of Southern soul food, challenges this notion, highlighting the value and beauty of this cuisine.
Princess Southern Touch: Performance and Persona
In 1989, Princess Pamela relocated her restaurant, renaming it “Princess Southern Touch—Cuisine of South Carolina.” In this later period, her performances became the main draw, sometimes overshadowing the soul food itself.
Sherron Watkins, the Enron whistleblower, recalls being drawn to Princess Pamela’s warmth and welcoming nature, particularly as a fellow Southerner. She frequented the restaurant for both the food and Princess Pamela’s captivating performances, recognizing the raw emotion and life experience embedded in her voice and presence. As GQ writer Tim Sultan noted, her voice, face, and life story were inextricably linked, creating a powerful and authentic artistic expression within her soul food restaurant.
The Mystery of Her Disappearance
The circumstances surrounding Princess Pamela’s disappearance remain unclear. Some, like Alexander Smalls, heard rumors of mental health struggles and a return to the South. Others speculated about legal issues or simply fading health. No obituary or death record has been found under any of her known names.
In 1998, her East Village restaurant closed, joining the decline of many soul food establishments from the 1960s renaissance. Factors like prejudice, gentrification, and the lack of succession plans contributed to this decline, potentially playing a role in Princess Pamela’s story as well.
The Lee Bros.’ extensive research to reissue her cookbook included a search for Princess Pamela herself. In a pre-digital age, tracking someone with an assumed name proved incredibly difficult. Despite contacting nursing homes, census records, and even her last landlord, no definitive answers emerged. A librarian suggested the possibility of an unmarked burial at Hart Island, a potter’s field for the unclaimed.
Despite the mystery, the reissue of Princess Pamela’s Soul Food Cookbook serves as a vital step in preserving her legacy and recognizing her contribution to American culinary history. She stands alongside other often-overlooked Black women culinary pioneers like Sylvia Woods and Edna Lewis, women whose Southern roots, race, and gender contributed to their historical underappreciation.
Nicole A. Taylor, author of The Up South Cookbook, emphasizes the need to recognize the nuances and individual experiences of these women, cautioning against generalizations. Princess Pamela, she argues, had her own unique “beat and experience,” distinct within the broader landscape of soul food and Southern cuisine.
Taylor and others point to Princess Pamela’s story as an example of systemic biases within food media and culinary narratives, where Black stories are often marginalized. The fact that it took two white male chefs to bring her cookbook back into print underscores this point. Princess Pamela’s obscurity is a symptom of a larger historical amnesia, a failure to see and value the contributions of figures like her.
The reissued Princess Pamela’s Soul Food Cookbook is now available. The search for Princess Pamela continues, a testament to the enduring impact of a woman who poured her soul into her food, her restaurant, and her remarkable life. Anyone with information about Princess Pamela is encouraged to share their memories at princesspamela.org or via email at the provided address, ensuring that her story and her soul food legacy are not forgotten.
