Jim Casada Outdoors

October 2007 Newsletter

Jim Casada Web site: www.jimcasadaoutdoors.com
1250 Yorkdale Drive E-mail: jc@jimcasadaoutdoors.com
Rock Hill, SC 29730-7638
803-329-4354

Harvest Time Memories

This is the month of the hunter’s moon, a time which brings increasingly chilly, reach-out-and-touch-the-stars nights. Velvety fogs which introduced the glories of Indian Summer’s bluebird days yield to hard frosts, corn’s in cribs, fodder’s in shocks, and apples are in bins. Another harvest season is nearing an end, with only hog-killing time left to complete to another chapter in the timeless mountain tradition of living off the land. At least that’s the way of the world in the Smokies where I grew up, and this month’s column is an unabashed look back to those simpler days and simpler ways of boyhood.

Of course, in the high country as elsewhere, working farms where folks live close to the land and derive much of their sustenance from it are increasingly rare. On the other hand, with growing interest in homegrown meat and organic produce, increased concern about the foods provided by agribusiness, renewed focus on heirloom fruits and vegetables, and desire on the part of more folks to live the simple life, it may well be that a return to a “make do with what you grew” mindset will spark a rebirth of traditional mountain food folkways.

To me, as someone raised as a son of the Smokies who is a passionate gardener, the co-author (with my wife) of a number of cookbooks focusing on wild game and nature’s foods, and a lover of the old ways, such a return to the world we have largely lost would be a welcome development. With that in mind, let’s take a walk down darkening avenues into the world of harvest time as it once was in homesteads situated in deep hollows and along steep hillsides throughout western North Carolina and east Tennessee.

Corn Field Doings

In those bygone days, as katydids sang their ageless songs and as sun shone across sere fields of fall, serious preparation for winter’s coming lean, mean times commenced. Kentucky Wonder pole beans, likely planted with Hickory Cane corn which did double duty by providing a way for the prolific beans to climb skyward, would be picked and prepared in one of two ways. Some would be strung, broken, and canned. They canned beans, stored in row upon row of quart-size Mason jars, with would include a fair portion of beans shelled from yellowing pods mixed liberally with the predominant color of green.

Other portions of the harvest, including not only pickings from pole beans but from bunch beans and half-runners as well, would be utilized for “leather britches.” This is the delightfully descriptive mountain term for dried green beans. These would be strung, left whole, and dried in the late summer sun while hanging from barn rafters, porch eaves, or maybe spread atop a tin roof. Usually, though not always, preparation drying was accomplished by using a strong sewing needled and heavy thread to pierce the beans, one at a time, until you reached a length of three feet or so. This made for convenient storage and maximum exposure during the drying process.

Of course along with pole beans sections of most corn fields would have been planted with another type of legume variously known as October beans, shelly beans, corn field beans, speckled beans, or, occasionally, the proper name of horticultural beans. They would have been planted, a couple of seeds to a hill, along with the corn. Like pole beans, these too are climbers, but unlike green beans they hung on the vines until fully dry (usually in October, hence the common name, October beans). These would be gathered and then shelled, usually by spreading hulls on an old sheet or a bunch of tow sacks sewn together and then beating them with a flail to separate beans from husks. Once separated, they would be dried a bit more then stored for use in scrumptious meals once cold weather laid its chilly hand on the land.

Then there was the field corn amidst which the beans grew. Whether a given homestead opted for Hickory Cane or some other favorite, this would be a type of corn which dried well, was suitable for grinding into meal, and could also be used to feed the farm’s animals. The corn would be pulled, ear by ear, from stalks and stored in a crib for future use. Of course some of it might have been used for roastin’ ears or soup mix during the brief period when the corn was tender, or “in the milk” as my Grandpa Joe used to put it. More often though, different varieties, known as sweet corn and planted in the family garden plot, would serve those purposes.

The shucks of the field corn were left intact, a sort of natural protection against the elements. Corn had a wide variety of uses, including fattening up the family hogs for killing time a few weeks down the road, use in feeding chickens (and maybe guineas or turkeys as well), for the farm’s horses or mules (my father said that their work horses always got six ears a day, along with hay), and of course for human use. The latter would involve shelling, which could be done by hand but most families had a hand-cranked sheller which handled one ear and a time. Each year some of the biggest, prettiest ears would be set aside and saved—seed for planting the crop come spring.

Amidst the beans and corn, showing just how skilled mountain folks were in getting the best from the land, there would have been other crops as well. Pumpkins, candy roasters, and cushaws would have been planted here and there, and it was time to gather them as well. Already cured and with their vines withered, when carefully stored in a “cannery,” underneath corn shocks, or in other cool, dry places, these various members of the winter squash family would keep for months. They furnished the basic ingredients of scrumptious pies but were also used as a vegetable and as food for livestock. As a boy I loved gathering them, because scattered throughout the field where they grew would be ground cherries. Once their husks dried and the little fruit turned a bright yellow, they were ready to pop into your mouth and offered a taste somewhat reminiscent of pineapple and with a hint of tomato.

Fall Fruits

The busy days of autumn also meant fruits ripening in the family orchard. September would see the last of the freestone peaches ready to pick and be dried, canned, and even pickled (if you haven’t ever sampled properly pickled peaches, rich with spicy flavor . . . well, you’ve lived a life of culinary deprivation). But the main fruits of fall were apples, and to a lesser degree, pears. There were canning apples, cooking apples, drying apples, and keeping apples. Some species, including old favorites such as Granny Smiths, Staymans, and Winesaps, leant themselves to multiple purposes in that they could be sliced and dried to a leather-like texture in the warm sun, cooked and canned as apple sauce, or carefully selected fruits without blemishes or bruises would be stored to be eaten raw or used in pies when needed.

Much the same was true of pears. Hard pears, commonly called cooking pears, were used for preserves, while soft or “eating” pears were stored individually in the coolest place available (most farmsteads had a root cellar or, lacking that, a strategically placed cannery). It was necessary to check both apples and pears occasionally after they had been stored, culling out rotting ones or those showing spots. Even with all these uses for apples and pears, there would, in good harvest years, still be a surplus. This would be pressed to make cider or brandy or sometimes carried to markets in towns for sale.

Nature’s Autumnal Bounty

The primary focus of harvest time was, understandably, on farm crops. Yet the fields and forests of the high country offered a wide and welcome variety of natural foods which required nothing more than enough gumption to gather them. Until wiped out by a devastating blight imported from the Orient, American chestnuts loomed quite large in fall activities and mountain diet. Other nuts which were available and frequently utilized included the prince of bottomlands and pasture edges, black walnuts, along with butternuts, hazelnuts, and hickory nuts. Then there were persimmons for making puddings, a mead-like beer, or “leather” (sort of a fruit jerky); the rich, creamy bounty of pawpaws to be eaten raw or made into custard (George Washington’s favorite dessert); and even late-ripening blueberries, gooseberries, and huckleberries high up on the balds and in the openings from old burns.

Nutting outings, in particular, could be a whole day of family fun with an underlying food function. Black walnuts, for example, required considerable work. They had to be gathered soon after falling to the ground, otherwise squirrels would eat most of the crop. This harvesting of walnuts was done using tow sacks or maybe even a sled with wooden runners if it so happened the family went about collecting them in a big way. They then would be spread out in a convenient place for the husks to dry, then the husks had to be removed, the nuts allowed to cure a bit more, and finally it was time to crack them and pick out the rich nutmeats. All in all it was lots of work, but the rewards in forms such as walnut cakes, cookies liberally laced with the savory nuggets, or come the following summer, maybe a churn of black walnut ice cream, made it well worthwhile. It also fostered family togetherness, something that was a key part of mountain life, because all hands were involved in the gathering and the cracking, with the latter often done before a cheery fire on a cold winter’s night.

Hog-Killing Time

Of all fall’s rituals, the one which has always intrigued me most was hog-killing time. Perhaps that’s because I was, as a youngster, a part of the process. In our case it involved the extended family. Grandpa Joe raised the hogs, several of them, with one or two being destined to feed the families of several of his children. Dad, along with aunts and uncles, would buy young shoats, help out with the food, and be on hand for the arduous work connected with butchering. From the time I learned one of countless lessons from Grandpa Joe which happened to focus on hogs, I always felt a keen personal interest in the entire process.

Although probably not one in twenty mountain residents today realizes it, hogs absolutely love weeds (that’s where red-rooted hog weed gets its name). Of course they will eat most anything but cucumbers, but we fed our hogs armful after armful of weeds in the late summer right on up to frost. Grandpa and I were involved in this process and had stopped to rest, eat a few ground cherries, and talk, when one of my strongest boyhood desires got me into trouble. The hog lot was located close to the banks of the Tuckaseigee River, and I had a mighty ambition to throw a rock all the way across that wide stream. Accordingly, while we took a break I picked up some rocks and tried it, failing by many yards as was always the case.

Bemused, Grandpa watched awhile then muttered: “I can throw a rock across the river.” Inasmuch as he was a stooped man already in his late seventies, I pooh-poohed the idea and indicated that if he accomplished what seemed an impossible feat I would pull weeds and slop the hogs for a full week. So certain was I that he couldn’t do it that didn’t even bother to get a quid pro quo in what seemed to me to be the certainty he would fail.

Grinning, Grandpa got out his pocket knife, spent a few moments selecting an especially long corn stalk, then cut it off at the base. He then cut away the top, leaving about a six-foot length of the stalk, and carefully carved a notch in one end. At that point the first frightening premonition of where this might lead hit me. Next came a stroll to the river bank, where Grandpa spent a bit of time selecting just the right rock. Once satisfied with his missile, he placed it in the notched cornstalk and made his “throw.” The rock was still rising when it reached the other side of the river. As I watched it in abject dismay, he turned to me and said: “Son, things ain’t always what they seem. I reckon you better get busy pulling weeds for those hogs.” Then, after a few painful moments, he chuckled and added, “but I’ll help you.”

Hog killing usually took place sometime shortly before Thanksgiving and came when temperatures dropped appreciably and morning frosts and high skies bore promise of several days of cold. It was quite an undertaking, with nothing being wasted but the squeal. The hogs would be isolated and killed, one at a time and out of sight of the others (otherwise you could get panic and “spoilt” meat), with an ax or perhaps a carefully placed rifle shot. Then came gutting, scalding the hide and scraping, cutting up the meat, rendering the lard, skimming cracklings from the lard, canning, curing hams and bacon, making sausage and streaked meat, preparing liver mush, pickling the feet, and all the seemingly endless list of things to be done with the pigs.

Yet in most mountain households pork, often supplemented to as great a degree as possible by wild game, was the primary meat. While families kept a milk cow or two, beef was considered a luxury while pork, in one form or another, constituted an integral part of high country diet. This ranged from the inexpressible delights of a feast of country ham accompanied by red-eye gravy and cathead biscuits to greasing a skilled with a piece of fatback or seasoning greens or beans with streaked meat. My personal favorites were crackling cornbread, a cholesterol-laced treat which tasted so good it had to have a sinful side, and fried tenderloin fresh from the hog and backed up with milk gravy made right in the pan where the pork had been fried. But then how could I overlook backbones-and-ribs, cooked to fall-off-the-bone tenderness so you could suck the marrow from the ribs. Similarly, there’s a lot to be said for thick slices of bacon accompanied by eggs, sawmill gravy, and biscuits so light you wonder if they couldn’t levitate. All in all, such food memories are enough to bring tears of pure joy to the eyes of a mountain boy.

Obviously the overview above barely scratches the surface of the folkways of high country food ways. We haven’t mentioned any of the fall vegetables, such as greens, cabbage, and the various root crops. Nor has any attention been devoted to the importance of hunting wild game as part and parcel of preparation for winter. Perhaps those can be subjects for another time in a future issue. For present purposes though, it is enough to acknowledge that while harvest time has lost much of its flair and importance, it retains a special place in the hearts of highlanders. County fairs and the annual Cherokee Indian Fair still harken back to those halcyon days of yesteryear, and even some small link to the past, perhaps a family visit to a pick-your-own apple orchard or gathering a mess of turnip greens, serves as a powerful, poignant reminder that our forebears were, in the finest sense of the word, survivalists.

Sampling the Bounty

Before we turn to a few specific recipes, I would simply note that most any way you prepare pork straight from your grocery store’s shelves will work equally well for wild hogs. For present purposes though, let’s look at some uses for foods from the wild.

Orzo with Hazelnuts

8 ounces orzo
¼ cup butter, softened
1 teaspoon lemon juice
¼ cup finely chopped hazelnuts
Salt to taste
Several dashes black pepper

Cook orzo according to package directions. Meanwhile, mix softened butter, lemon juice, hazelnuts, salt and pepper with a fork. Stir desired amount of butter into drained orzo and serve immediately.

Pear and Hazelnut Salad

4-6 cups mixed greens
2 large fresh pears, coarsely chopped
1 cup toasted, coarsely chopped hazelnuts
3-4 tablespoons mild blue cheese

Arrange lettuce on salad plates. Sprinkle chopped pears, toasted hazelnuts and cheese on each mount of lettuce. Drizzle with your favorite dressing.

Pecan Crunch Sweet Potatoes

1 stick butter or margarine
2 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla
1 cup sugar
3 cups cooked, mashed, sweet potatoes

Combine butter, eggs, vanilla and sugar. Add to mashed sweet potatoes. Place in baking dish.

Topping

1/3 stick butter, melted
1 cup packed brown sugar
2 tablespoons flour
1 cup finely chopped pecans

Mix topping ingredients and crumble on potatoes. Bake at 350 degrees for 25-30 minutes or until bubbly and golden brown.

Persimmon Butter

Wash ripe persimmons thoroughly and remove stems and other debris. Drain well. Press through a non-aluminum sieve to remove skins and seeds. Add honey (to taste) and mix well with a fork. Store in refrigerator. Serve on bagels, muffins, toast, or biscuits.

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