Willie Mae's Scotch House

After watching "Saving Willie Mae's Scotch House" I felt both enticed, confused, and uncertain about the places history, its food and its role in a city that looks to the future with hope while clinging dearly to the past.  The movie itself was interesting in that it brought to light so many issues of race, food justice, and humanity, showing both sides of these issues without intending to do so.  The exterior premise of the movie was uplifting in many ways, chronicling the many ways in which one hard working elderly black woman managed to overcome tremendous adversity with the help of some good people and their charity.  However, despite the inspirational story, "Saving Willie Mae's Scotch House" was to me more of a story of the underlying issues facing Willie Mae's Scotch house, and not so much a story of its salvation.  For me, I was never able to get around the issue of Willie Mae's commendation for her delicious but unhealthy food in a city with so many food justice issues, and rampant food related illnesses.  I could never really get around why people rallied to this specific cause to save one elderly woman's livelihood, and it seemed less of a humanitarian endeavor than one of pity.  After visiting Willie Mae's, after she had  retired from her restaurant duties, the reasons for saving this restaurant seemed even more dubitable, as the reason for saving the restaurant was no longer part of the picture, making Willie Mae's culturally expendable.  The absence of Willie Mae and the fact that her children originally wanted no part in taking over the business seemed to rob Willie Mae's of the one special and enduring aspect the place had, that being Willie Mae, the recipient of the James Beard Award.  Eating the food and looking around the restaurant, I found myself questioning the authenticity of my meal, and felt that it lacked a certain something that only this special old woman could have provided.  Suddenly Willie Mae's had changed from the emblematic and anachronistic establishment it once was, to another place declaring they made the best fried chicken in the world, which was further highlighted by Dr. Nystrom's claim that Mckenzie's chicken in a box was better.  Though I thoroughly enjoyed my meal I couldn't shake the thought that saving one woman's storied livelihood and giving her a James Beard Award could really be indicative of the character of her place.  Willie Mae's restaurant's special qualities seemed to lie primarily in the perserverance of its proprietor and in its understatement, and with her gone, though my meal was filling I was left hungry for the authenticity that once made this place truly special.