By Erica Barnes

Contributing Writer

As a Southern girl struggling through a long (they tell me mild) New York spring, nothing brings back home like food. It turns out I’m not alone, and Roy Blount Jr.’s newest book “Save Room for Pie, Food Songs and Chewy Ruminations” proves it, with everything from love songs, poetry and witticisms dedicated to his favorite subject: southern cuisine.

Blount, a member of the Fellowship of Southern Writers and frequent guest on NPR, uses his 24th book to wax poetic about everything from the slimy deliciousness of okra to the prevalence of food songs in classic jazz.

With nearly 3,000 recordings of food-related songs, Blount knows of what he speaks. He explores the worlds of rock and roll, jazz and country music and the myriad ways food has spiced up our culture. “How would we talk about jazz,” he says, “without the use of ‘chops,’ ‘cooking,’ ’tasty,’ and ‘jam’?” From the sexy stylings of “Honeysuckle Rose” to Bulee “Slim” Gaillard’s catalog of food-hits, Blount opened my eyes to the influence of cuisine on music.

He organizes his stories by artist, mixing facts with a heavy dash of humor, such as the origin of Conway Twitty’s name (there are myths and counter-myths). But his main course is early jazz, where he parses the lyrics and composition of the genre’s giants: Louis Armstrong, Louis Jordan and Fats Waller. Anyone with a hankering for jazz will get their fill here.

A prolific poet, Blount serves up paeans to peas, songs to catfish and hymns to ham. My personal favorite is the “Song To Grits”: “Grits, grits, it’s/Grits I sing-/Grits fits/In with anything.”

Sandwiched between each mouth-watering ode are anecdotes about the nature of what we eat and why. Blount considers the nature of grass-fed beef and the declining bee population alongside ruminations on the class associations of certain foods, such as the humble mullet. As with everything in the book, Blount tackles even the most mundane subjects with humor. From corn’s fall from grace to the sustainability of the world’s grasslands, “Save Room’s” facts are flavored with droll good humor.

An alternate name for the book might be: “Save Room for NOLA,” because Roy saves his love letter to the Crescent City for dessert. He and his wife divide their time between homes in New Orleans and Massachusetts, and Blount is clearly enamored of all things Big Easy, from the music and food to the resilient residents who have rebuilt their hometown. “Just walk down a New Orleans street and watch out: if you’re not careful, you’ll be dancing,” he says.

Perhaps the only place in the book where humor is trumped by sentiment, Blount’s recounting of the city’s rebirth post-Katrina is heartwarming. As someone who experienced that storm first-hand, it’s refreshing to see a local’s point of view rather than the cable news-style tragedies we’re used to hearing. “Maybe you have an old-dame aunt who’s not like anybody else in the family; she’s had severe health problems, but she’s up and around again and full of zip, dresses with flair, has lots of unconventional friends, and is a great cook. Go visit her. She might not live forever,” he says.

Blount’s love of New Orleans ties the book together, with its confluence of music and food, joie de vivre and a general lusty good time.

Anyone with an appetite for life; music, food, art and fun will find plenty to chew on in “Save Room for Pie.” What we eat is part of who we are, North or South, and having a little humor about ourselves is part of the fun. Blount’s wit strips the pretension from our modern eating habits and revels in the glory of good old-fashioned cooking.

If you don’t come away hungry, I’ll eat my hat.