SEPTEMBER 2024

SEPTEMBER SINGS A MIGHTY SWEET SONG

Earlier this month, in a wonderfully welcome renewal of a ritual that formed a singular feature of decades of my life, I once again celebrated “Christmas in September.” That is how my cherished late friend, Roy Turner, described the opening day of dove season. He was right in so many ways. The smell of gunpowder wafting across sere fields of mown millet turned brown under the late summer sun, the sound of shotguns hammering away as doves fly their erratic patterns across those fields, and the sight of feathers slowly drifting down after a successful shot all are harbingers of change. They herald the end of summer and the advent of another hunting season.

This latest opportunity to enjoy the camaraderie of a hunt was even more special than usual, and rest assured that opening day at the Turner farm has always been a thing of wonder. I had gone for two or three years without being a part of the hunt, but Roy’s oldest son, Joey, reached out to me and indicated he would really like for me to be present at what would be the 75^th annual Turner family shoot. It now stretches over four generations of adults in the Turner line, with Joey representing that fourth generation, and to my pure delight two grandsons of my longtime buddy, Roy, were present. One of them, Chris, is an eight year old imbued with all the energy, enthusiasm, and eagerness typical of that age. To watch him race across the ground to pick up a downed dove or be an observer as Joey, his uncle, not only showed him how to breast out a bird but pointed out the craw and gizzard while explaining how they functioned, was for me pure delight. It instantly brought back memories of his father doing similar things when Joey was a lad. It’s also the kind of “passing it on” moment that lifts the spirits and puts pep in an old man’s step.

The shoot was a good one, featuring a decent number of birds and with everyone getting to do a least some shooting. I imagine a few strategically positioned hunters or those who possessed stellar wingshooting skills reached the limit of 15. Such was not the case with me but I shot a box of shells, downed several birds, and thoroughly enjoyed reliving the past with Joey while watching the future in the form of young Chris from the wonderful perspective of a dove stool.

Yet those factors were not the highlight of the shoot. As night gave way to light and folks took to their stands, Joey walked up to me and handed me two 12 gauge shells. He then explained why. The night before he had taken the time, utilizing knowledge garnered from his father, to load a box of shells. Along with the powder, wadding, and other standard components there was special one. Each shell held a small amount of the cremains of his deceased father and my longtime buddy, Roy Turner. Joey reckoned shooting those ashes into the air over the dove fields his father planted, plowed, and mowed for decades, and the site where he hosted so many joyous hunts, would be a fitting tribute. I wholeheartedly agreed and indeed thought it a moving, even magical, moment for a trip into the past.

That being said, I did not shoot the two ashes laden shells Joey handed me. That was for the simple reason I want to sit by myself at my favorite spot in the expansive acreage forming the terrain for the shoot, think about all the great moments I shared with Roy (not just dove hunting but in the quest for deer, squirrel, rabbits, and turkeys), and have ample opportunity to let fond memory run wild. Sometime this month, probably on a week day when the formal doves shoots are over, I’ll drive to the field, load those two shells into my gun, and watch with wonder as a puff of ashes fills the air and I ponder the many and varied blessings of what for me was a special sporting friendship. Rest assured that on a personal level it will be magical interlude and also a reminder of the timeless wisdom suggesting that “hunting is only a part of it.” 

I would also note, if you dear readers will indulge me in a moment of pontification, that mention of this matter will hopefully serve as a reminder to each of you to sample and savor the blessings of friendship whatever form it takes. For me that form is often things associated with hunting or fishing, but that’s simply because outdoor pursuits have long been one of the central features of my life. It might come to you in any of many other forms–a neighbor cookout, family gathering, civic club event, dining out with friends, church supper, all day singing with dinner on the grounds, or in any of countless other ways. The closeness of enduring friendships gives deep meaning to life.

On this special occasion, not only did I enjoy all the wide range of emotions just described. I got to see and talk with Joey’s wife, Montanna (unlike Joey, I haven’t known her since she was an infant, but I did first meet her when she was a lovely teenager and his girlfriend). To watch her love and care for their autistic three-year-old son, Wesson (who was suitably dressed in dove field attire of a camo shirt and khaki shorts) was to feel true warmth inside. Then, as what must be reckoned as the cherry atop this aging hunter’s sundae, Roy’s widow, Kerry, called while we were wrapping up the morning’s hunt and I enjoyed a wonderful conversation with her.

Of course no dove shoot is without its moments of pure comedy, usually involving some poor soul who couldn’t hit a stationary tin can at 20 yards using a cylinder choke and No. 8 shot. In this case though, the humor was different. As I was leaving boisterous young Chris provided me a chuckle to me as a mental companion while I drove home. Never mind the fact that I had pointed out a nearby fire ant mound to him at least a dozen times, he got preoccupied with watching “tweety birds” or maybe looking at the pile of feathers where doves had just been cleaned and proceeded to tramp all over the ant household. Those of you who are familiar with the reaction of these insect minions of the devil to such invasions of hearth and home know what happened next. Those ants were on him like white on rice.

Chris did an impromptu dance and was so anxious to get his low-cut boots and socks off that he somehow managed to kick one boot up into the limbs of a sawtooth oak. As I started to drive away his Uncle Joey had managed to free the footwear from its lofty perch even as the ant-bitten boy hopped over to shake my hand, thank me for being at the hunt, and bid me farewell. He didn’t know it, of course, but rest assured I was the one with every reason to be thankful. I had a good laugh to go with that gratitude and left with warm thoughts of just how much pure joy is attached to the innocence of youth when it isn’t encumbered by cell phones, video games, or anything except letting abundant spirits run wild.

I headed home with a smile on my face, warm memories of a fine friend, and a heart full of good feelings. For me, the day was a powerful reminder that September sings a mighty sweet song, and it is made even sweeter by knowing that what is possibly my favorite month of the year, October, will be the next to come a-knocking.

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KNOXVILLE BOOK SIGNING/MEET AND GREET

On October 19, from 11:00 a.m. until 2:00 p.m., Tipper Pressley (my co-author on Celebrating Southern Appalachian Food) will be at the Historic Ramsey House, located at 2614 Thorngrove Pike, Knoxville, TN) to sign books, chat with visitors, and hopefully interact with a whole bunch of folks who share our love of Appalachian food lore and folkways. Admission is free and you’ll want to be sure to leave a bit of time to tour Ramsey House. Judging from images on the website (www.ramseyhouse.org), the home, which dates back to the late 1700s, and period pieces within offer a grand step back in time. I know that on a personal level, along with hopefully meeting a bunch of folks who share Tipper’s and my love of the region’s past and traditions, I look forward to doing so.

I’ll also have copies of some of my other books, including A Smoky Mountain Boyhood and Fishing for Chickens: A Smokies Food Memoir, available for sale. By that date Christmas won’t be all that far away and any of these books offer a peek at the highland home of my heart as well as a gift that endures. Hope to see you there, and if you have questions, don’t hesitate to e-mail me (jimcasada@comporium.net). Also, I’d love to hear from any newsletter readers who might plan to stop by.

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BOOK SPECIALS

I have four copies of the hardbound version of Wild Bounty, an award-winning cookbook with scores of beautiful photos supporting the recipes, available at $25 postpaid. It has long been out of print but was the first cookbook Ann and I ever did. It remains one of the two most appealing from a visual standpoint, with the recent Celebrating Southern Appalachian Food (co-authored with Tipper Pressley) being the other one.

 

I’ve got plenty of copies of the latter work available and that’s this month’s second special offering. Again copies are $25 postpaid. I can promise lots of visual appeal and if your food tastes are anywhere close to mine, some mighty fine eating as well.

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JIM’S DOINGS

Recent weeks have been busy ones although staying at home has been the norm. In fact, over the last six weeks I’ve strayed no farther from home than drives to the dove shoot and a couple of trips to look at the progress of the food plots on my hunting land. Still, they’ve been satisfyingly productive and a number of articles have appeared in print. These include my weekly column in the Smoky Mountain Times along with magazine pieces and contributions to on-line publications. Among those are “Cane Pole Days,” Carolina Mountain Life, Summer, 2024, pp. 97-98; “Joseph Thomson: Mystery Man of Africa,” Sporting Classics, July/Aug., 2024, pp. 37-40; “A Mixed Bag of Summer Reading,” Sporting Classics, July/Aug., 2024, pp. 93-95; “Remembering Grandpa Joe,” “Sporting Classics Daily,” July 7, 2024; “Joseph Thomson: Mystery Man of Africa,”  “Sporting Classics Daily,” July 14, 2024; “The Many Faces of Sausage,” Smoky Mountain Living, Aug./Sept., 2024, pages 14-17; “Elmer Keith: King of Gun Cranks,” Sporting Classics, Sept./Oct., 2024, pages 87-95; “Beard Beauty,” “Sporting Classics Daily,” Aug. 28, 2024; and “Nature’s Candy,” Columbia Metropolitan, Sept., 2024, pp. 134-38. 

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RECIPES

One of the cardinal features of the dove shoots I enjoyed with the Turner family over the years was a sumptuous feast at dinner before taking to the fields in early to mid-afternoon. That changed this year, with the matriarch of the clan (Roy’s mother, Johnsie, now gone) and his widow, Kerry, simply unable to undertake such a huge endeavor. Also, the change in regulations to allow morning hunting on opening day altered matters as well. But that doesn’t mean I can’t look back on feasts from yesteryear, with items such as Kerry’s incomparable chicken bog redolent of black pepper seasoning and wonderful taste, my late wife’s annual contribution in the form of a Mississippi mud pie, Johnsie’s hull pie (see recipe below), all sorts of late summer vegetables, and of course a whole barbecued pig Roy had spent the night preparing. Truth be told, most hunters took to the field so satiated that the warm sun along with typical flight inaction until late afternoon that it was mighty hard not to nod off into a dove stool nap. Those feasts evoke their on special memories, and it seems fitting that some of the recipes for this month be ones associated with grand shoots.

HULL PIE

The opening of dove season closely coincides with peak ripening of muscadines and scuppernongs, and my first taste ever of a wonderful offering coming from those tasty members of the grape family was a hull pie. I raved about it so much that Johnsie Turner, who was mighty reluctant to part with any of her special recipes, shared this one with me. It puts a quite different twist on these luscious grapes.

3 to 4 cups muscadines

1 cup sugar

2 tablespoons cornstarch

3 tablespoons butter

Cinnamon or apple pie spice

Pastry for a two-crust pie

Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Wash grapes and using two medium-size enamel saucepans, squeeze pulp into one pan and place hulls in the other. Cover hulls with water, cook until tender, and drain. Run pulp through a sieve to remove seeds. Combine cooked hulls and pulp. Mix sugar and cornstarch. Add grape mixture and dot with butter. Sprinkle lightly with spice. Pour into pastry-lined pie pan, cover with strips of pasty, and bake until golden brown.

GRILLED MUSTARD VENISON STEAK TIDBITS

Cubed venison steak

Any brand of standard mustard

Flour

Salt and pepper to taste

Pound cubed venison steaks with a meat hammer until thoroughly tenderized and quite thin. Cover thoroughly with flour and then brush mustard atop both sides. Cut the “dressed” steak into cubes about an inch square. Cook atop a hot grill, turning once, and be sure not to overcook (tidbits should be pink in the middle). Serve piping hot.

BUTTERMILK DOVES

8 doves

Buttermilk to cover doves

½ cup flour

½ teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon black pepper

½ cup canola oil

Pour buttermilk over dressed doves and refrigerate for 4 hours. Place flour, salt, and pepper in a  plastic bag.  Add drained doves and toss to cover doves with flour and spices. Place doves in a frying pan with hot canola oil and brown quickly. Cover, reduce heat and steam to obtain tenderness (10-15 minutes. 

RICK’S CREOLE DOVES

This recipe comes from a longtime friend, Rick Snipes, who was in his heyday the finest wingshot I’ve ever hunted with. Eye problems have changed that, but in his prime Rick could shoot anything that flew like nobody’s business.

16 to 20 dove fillets

12/-1 stick butter

Chef Paul Prudhomme’s Creole Seasoning

Quickly sauté the dove breasts in butter and sprinkle with the seasoning as you do so. Do not overcook. The breasts should still be pink in the center.

TIP: With a pair of game scissors changing “bone in” dove breasts to fillets is the essence of simplicity. Just cut across the top of the breast at the “V” where the two sides join. Properly done you will lose almost no meat. Then push down with your thumb and index finger to separate the breast from the bone. That’s it, and once you’ve done a few birds the process is a cinch.

GRILLED DOVES

Dove breasts (figure 3 or 4 per person)

Bacon

Salt and pepper to taste

Marinate the cleaned dove breasts in your favorite game marinade for 3 or 4 hours.  Remove from the marinade and drain. Wrap each breast with a slice of bacon and hold it in place with a toothpick. Place wrapped doves atop a hot grill and cook until done, using tongs to rotate the breasts in order to cook evenly. Serve piping hot. There are many tasty variations including stuff the breasts with a jalapeno, water chestnuts, or even stuffing in cheese just before the cooking is complete. While 3 or 4 breasts make a fine entrée, they can also be served as hearty hors d’oeuvres.