While blood is the go-to sustenance of many of the residents of Jerusalem’s Lot once Kurt Barlow and R.T. Straker roll into town, more prosaic scenes of cooking and eating punctuate ‘Salem’s Lot, particularly in the intimate connection of the people with the land and the sharing of food as part of burgeoning new friendships and relationships. 

Food is intimately connected to the landscape of Jerusalem’s Lot and the lives of its residents. This relationship between the people and the land is a central theme in the first section of the chapter “The Lot (III),” in which King notes that the land is “granite-bodied and covered with a thin, easily ruptured skin of topsoil. Farming it is a thankless, sweaty, miserable, crazy business” (322), one that he digs into with a two-page description of the physical challenges of farming and the metaphorical connection of the people with the land. While this is the lengthiest description of this intense and intimate relationship, scenes from the Griffen farm and the ubiquitous presence of home-canned vegetables on the shelves of most of the women in Jerusalem’s Lot throughout the novel serve as a reminder of this connection.  

When Ben Mears first meets Susan Norton in the park, Ben cuts through their tentative first conversation by asking Susan “look, can I buy you an ice-cream soda or something? I was just getting a hanker on for one” (29). Susan cheerfully accepts and as they enjoy their ice-cream sodas—his chocolate, hers strawberry—they compare their memories and reminiscences of Jerusalem’s Lot, finding plenty of shared touchstones in spite of the fact that their memories come from slightly different time frames. In addition to comparing notes on ‘Salem’s Lot, Ben and Susan are also feeling one another out, the first coalescing threads of a connection that Ben comes to think of as darkly fated. 

(Ice cream plays a similarly sweet role in terms of connection and affection in King’s IT, when Bev, Ben, and Eddie get a couple of ice cream frappes: “Ben had coffee, Eddie strawberry. Beverly sat between the two boys with a straw, sampling each in turn like a bee at flowers” [414]. But the pharmacist Mr. Keene also lures Eddie into a sense of false camaraderie with ice cream sodas before dropping the bomb that Eddie’s inhaler is nothing but a placebo, so it’s not all good.) 

As Ben and Susan’s relationship develops, she brings him home to meet her parents and they share a couple of suppers together. Ben and Susan’s father Bill bond over the barbeque grill. When Bill asks Ben “you got to cut the hot dogs to let the squidges out of ‘em. You know about that?” (112), Ben demonstrates his expertise: 

“Yeah.” He made diagonal slashes in the air with his right index finger, grinning slightly as he did so. The small slashes in natural-casing franks kept them from blistering. 

“You came from this neck of the woods, all right,” Bill Norton said. “Goddam well told. Take that bag of briquettes over there and I’ll get the meat. Bring your beer.” (112) 

Between Ben passing this test—proving both his practicality and his local-boy credentials—and being what Bill refers to as a “serious-minded fella” (112), Ben gets Bill’s stamp of approval (though Susan’s mother Ann is never won over). Ben and the Nortons share a similar meal later, once things start to go bad in the Lot but before the vampires really start gaining momentum, with “franks on the outdoor grill, and Ann had had her kidney beans simmering in molasses since nine that morning” (171). Despite the similarity of the meals and the company, these two suppers have a different feeling: the first of optimistic new beginnings and the second of mourning and a sense of fear that, while undefined, still casts a long and dark shadow over Ben, the Norton family, and the town. 

While the men who rent at Eva’s Rooms, the local boardinghouse, largely subsist on whatever’s easiest to make or the closest at hand—a bowl of cold cereal before heading to their shift at the mill, or Weasel Craig’s government-supplies oatmeal—women make good use of Eva’s kitchen, including Eva herself and later, Susan. As Eva enjoys a quiet few moments before the work of the day begins, she makes herself “four scrambled eggs, eight rashers of bacon, a skillet of home fries. She would garnish this humble repast with two slices of toast and jam, a ten-ounce tumbler of orange juice, and two cups of coffee with cream to follow” (69). Here Eva is caring for herself, fueling up for a day of domestic labor around the house, while later, Susan comes and cooks for Ben after he has been out helping in the search for missing boy Ralphie Glick. Susan isn’t making anything elaborate or fancy—”some kind of hamburger casserole” (129)—but her affection for Ben is evident in the act of cooking and her attendant concern for his well-being. There’s a domestic and sexual undercurrent in this cooking as well, as several of the old bachelors who are staying in Eva’s Rooms hang around the kitchen while Susan makes the casserole. As Weasel tells Ben, “cooks real good, she does … I can tell. I been watchin’” (130). The gaze of these older men is dismissed as largely harmless, with Weasel chided for the obviousness of his appreciation and Susan taking no note of their presence or comments. The meal that follows is largely inconsequential and remains unseen, but the fact that Susan has come over and claimed a spot in this quasi-domestic space to cook and care for Ben reflects the tenor and progress of their relationship. 

Another key meal in ‘Salem’s Lot is when Matt Burke invites Ben over to his house for spaghetti: Matt has offered this invitation in part as a thank you to Ben for speaking to one of his English classes, but the two men are also forming a fast friendship. Their shared meal is informal and comfortable. Matt sold his dining room table to an antique dealer who made him a good offer and they eat in the kitchen, where the table is “set with a couple of mismatched plates and glasses which had animated cartoon figures dancing around the rim—jelly glasses, Ben thought with amusement. The last constraint of being with a stranger dropped away and he began to feel at home” (246). 

Castle Rock Kitchen features two recipes inspired by ‘Salem’s Lot: “Strawberry-Coconut Cream Soda” and “Matt Burke’s Bolognese.” While the sodas in ‘Salem’s Lot are ice cream, this one has fruit and coconut milk, which makes for an interesting combination of flavors, though it’s more of a smoothie than a traditional ice cream soda.

The from-scratch recipe for “Matt Burke’s Bolognese” has complex layers of flavor, which are built up through several rounds of adding ingredients, with lots of time to reduce liquids and intensify flavors in between, capped off by simmering for a few hours. My initial thought was that this seems a bit complex for the home-y, informal meal Matt and Ben share, and maybe  a bit labor intensive to throw together after a long day of teaching. But all of that simmering time gave me some time to really think about Matt Burke (my favorite character in the novel) and the dynamics of his friendship with Ben. Matt may be a casual, laid-back guy, but he also pays great attention to detail and indulges in the things he enjoys, whether it’s a beer at Dell’s Tavern or his rock and roll music cranked up loud. And while Matt and Ben haven’t known each other for long—just their conversation at Dell’s and Ben’s visit to Matt’s class—they like one another. With this in mind, the Bolognese here takes on another dimension, reflecting Matt’s unspoken aim of making Ben feel welcome and at home, and maybe even impressing him just a little bit. Matt also picked up a special bottle of wine, shrugging off Ben’s protests by saying “Oh come, Ben. We hardly see best-selling authors in the Lot every day” (246). It makes sense that Matt likely put some extra thought, care, and effort into the meal he prepares for Ben, a special occasion that is sweetly and authentically balanced with the comforts and pleasures of home, right down to the whimsy of the jelly glasses.  Either way, the flavors of the Bolognese are well worth the wait and the friendship this meal solidifies between Matt and Ben will change both of their lives. Carle-Sanders recommends putting the Bolognese sauce to use in lasagna (which would undoubtedly be delicious), but in homage to Matt Burke, I served it over spaghetti, with fresh parmesan on top and a jelly glass of wine to go with it.

Check out Castle Rock Kitchen here: https://outlanderkitchen.com/castle-rock-kitchen

[Page numbers are from 2022 film tie-in edition of ‘Salem’s Lot and 2017 film tie-in edition of IT]