I hope we can all agree that the love of good food is the great equalizing factor.
I always write about food on Fridays. And I see no reason to except you today. I’ll be doing my regular food article over on my blog. Today’s Food Porn Friday is about Fried Green Tomatoes.
When people think of Appalachia, they usually think of the lack of food. Such are the stereotypes that have been perpetuated by the media and some researchers into the culture. When I ask people about what has been written about them, about the starvation and the grimness seen in Keralt’s Christmas in Appalachia, they look at me strangely.
“That weren’t right. I don’t recall that we ever were without something to eat.”
They all say that, but I suspect the truth lies somewhere in between.
But I thought I’d share with you some of my favorite tastes of Appalachia. They do have a rich food culture here. Celebrations here, as they do anywhere, always seem to have food at the center. You will most likely encounter large spreads of food at Church Homecomings, decoration days and family reunions. All of the women try to outdo each other and not much time is wasted in getting to the main event…the eating part.
When I was a child, spending summers at my grandparent’s farm in the foothills of the Clinch Mountains, my family would always look forward to getting those foods that we only ate in this place. We would always go home with a cooler filled with Tennessee sausage, country hams, scrapple, stone ground cornmeal and salt rizin’ bread. I remember being sent down to the spring house to gather fresh water cress and the feeling of the icy water on my toes as I pulled the greens from the water.
My big brother and I would gig for bullfrogs out at the pond. I remember standing on a foot stool so I could watch my great aunt fry them up. They would be so fresh that they would dance in the pan. My grandfather would take me out to the garden where I’d help him pick Cherokee purple pole beans. They were dark, rich purple and I always liked to watch my grandmother put them in the pot where they would turn bright green as if by magic. Some of my happiest early memories of this area are about the food, its preparation, and the joy in eating it with my family.
Salt rizin’ bread is an acquired taste. This bread is leavened with a starter made from whole grain stone-ground cornmeal. The meal has to be unprocessed since it needs the native bacteria to create the starter. When you cut into the bread, the aroma is like over-ripe stinky cheese. It’s a bit alarming if you aren’t used to it. There is a story about a woman who first made it in a mining town in Kentucky. Her husband was so repulsed by the odor coming from it that he took the cooling loaf out into the yard and buried it. But it’s wonderful toasted and slathered with butter and jelly.
The salty sweet cured country ham makes the best ham biscuits you have ever tasted. I always liked mine dripping with local wild mountain honey to cut the salt. My grandfather preferred to put the thick sweet sorghum syrup on his. You can still see the little sorghum mills along the remote back roads in the mountains. They grew sorghum just up the road from me when I first moved here.
And I must mention where the area stands on the great cornbread debate. The official stance of the Appalachian cook is absolutely NO sweet cornbread allowed. I am from another area of the south and have been known to commit the heresy of putting sugar in my cornbread batter. I know. Scandalous.
Appalachian women take great pride in their desserts. Sugar has been plentiful and cheap here for quite some time. Honey was used previously. They even made a sort of chewing gum using pine tar, sassafras and beech bark. Large amounts of sugar were required for the moonshine still, and at one time almost every family supplemented their income making white lightning.
I alternately look forward to and dread the holiday gatherings of my adoptive Appalachian family. The four sisters attempt to out-dessert each other every year and I must save room to sample each of the offerings. I do have a strong preference for the eldest’s Apple Stack Cake.
They still do eat some of the old-timey wild crafted foods. Many people crave a serving of poke salad, ramps or creasy greens when spring rolls around. The poke is gathered in early spring when the shoots are still tender and small. It must be boiled in several waters to remove the poisonous qualities, then sauteed in bacon fat. Ramps are much prized and are gathered from the wildwood then chopped and eaten with scrambled eggs, thick cut bacon and toast.
I could write a book about my musings of the food here. It holds very happy sense memories for me. If you come visit our area, I encourage you to get off of the main highways and away from the gratuitous pancake houses and find where the real folk eat. The food is often simple and homey, but awfully good.
I need to go milk my goat now.