Mayberry Does Exist

We almost missed it.  A small white sign with blue letters, leaning precariously to one side, held in place with spindly wire rods stuck into earth along the highway's shoulder.  One of thousands of its kind, scattered along NC roadways, advertising everything from yard sales to income tax assistance services and easily ignored, but, for some reason, this one caught attention.

"Did that say something about crab?"  Richard asked. 

Before I could reply, another sign followed the first.  "Crab Feast!"  Richard exclaimed.  

It was the word "feast" that cinched our decision to leave our planned route and take a small two-lane road that bisected miles of burned forest land in search of the event.  "Festival" probably would not offer the same enticement, but "feast," with images of Thanksgiving, passed plates of delicious foods and aromatic cooking smells made us detour our journey home to take an unfamiliar drive to a place we never heard of.  Besides, we were hungry.
 

Road construction almost hid the town's directional sign

When we turned into the small village of Stumpy Point, it was like driving back in time.  A single, two-lane road meandered along a picturesque body of water, punctuated by neat homes.  Arriving at a small community center, which seemed to be bustling with activity, we parked across the street near a Methodist church which reflected bright afternoon sunlight and stood, brilliantly white, against October blue sky.   As we approached the community center, next door to the Volunteer Fire Department, host to the Crab Feast, we were welcomed by warm smiles and friendly greetings.  A tall man took us under his wing and led us into the community center, eager to tell us about the Crab Feast after we explained we had never attended one before, but were led to his town after reading the signs along the highway.  From his surprised expression, we guessed not many other travelers made the trek.

After we purchased tickets, two volunteers stamped our hands and the man who ushered us inside told the women, "These people are not from around here.  They saw the signs at the highway and decided to come."  Perhaps there was no hidden message in his statement, but I wondered if those signs were his idea or maybe there had been some discussion among the townspeople about the effectiveness of posting signs.  At any rate, the volunteers directed us to a buffet of fresh local food with encouragement to "stay as long as you like and eat as much as you want!"

Servers ladled steaming crab stew, carefully adding half a crab, dumplings, potatoes, celery and rich broth to each bowl.  Fried crabs followed the stew, broken in half to make picking the sweet meat easier.  Cole slaw and baked beans were next and then hushpuppies and fresh local fish, battered and fried just beyond the serving line by a man who worked expertly and efficiently in a small space.  Drink choices were both kinds of tea, sweet and unsweet, and Richard and I juggled bowls, plates and cups as we made our way to an outdoor picnic table where a couple moved to make room for us.
 

The Point at Stumpy Point, NC

We chatted with the local fisherman and his companion while dredging the succulent fish in a tangy sauce.  When I tasted the stew, I sighed.  "Good, right?  Everybody loves that stew."  The fisherman nodded as I spooned the goodness in what I hoped was a not-too-indecent pace.  We noticed our nearby dining companions were expertly removing tiny bits of crab meat from the fried shells, but I am afraid we were a bit wasteful, owing to inexperience.  Still, the bites we retrieved were nothing short of delightful.  After eating our fill from the buffet, we made our way to the VFD building where a helpful greeter told us to "sit where ever you like and someone will bring you steamed crabs."  Really?  That simply, these people stole our hearts.

A tray of fresh, steamed crabs

The tray of steamed crabs was delivered, as promised, and a young woman gave us a quick lesson in how to break open crabs, seek sweet meat from hiding places and crack claws with a round wooden mallet.  Using our fingers to dip the tender bites in drawn butter before popping them in our mouths, we enjoyed as much as we could before, regretfully, admitting defeat and stopping to wash our hands (and faces) in preparation for the trip home to western NC.

Before driving away, we stopped to chat with a life long resident on the steps of the community center and he told us this is a bumper crop year for blue crabs. I naively asked, "Is the Feast always this weekend of the year?"  He laughed and said, "Oh, no.  The Feast depends on when the crabs come in.  We never know when that will be."  His words gave me pause; crab harvests are no different than any other crop.  Abundance, whether it is crabs or heirloom tomatoes, is cause for celebration.  We should all make time to enjoy Nature's bounty, no matter what a human calendar may dictate.

Following a truck loaded with fresh NC crabs

To a chorus of good-byes and calls to visit again soon, we drove away.  As we left Stumpy Point, we met a young boy whizzing along the road in the opposite direction.  His gap-toothed smile wide, hand flung high over his head in a wave, his joy was palpable.  A visceral memory hit us both simultaneously and we shook our heads, recognizing that feeling of freedom, of independence, that only a two-wheeled bicycle can give a child.  

I believe Mayberry, that folksy, time-out-of-time small town made famous by black-and-white television, exists today.  Those fictional characters who supported each other with kind words and gestures are alive and well.  Their home is a place where strangers are welcome, where hard work is rewarded, where local food is more than a slogan, where self-sufficiency is an everyday practice and where a child can ride a bicycle as fast as the wind, with safety and love surrounding him.  With apologies to Mt. Airy, I believe Mayberry is real, but today, it is called Stumpy Point.  We will return. . .

The Stumpy Point crab stew was so good, I purchased fresh local crab meat before leaving the NC coastal area.  Back at home, I made a version of that delicious dish.  With luck, you may find some of this year's fresh bumper crab crop and I hope you will try this recipe.  

Crab Stew

2 ounces diced pancetta or thick sliced bacon
olive oil, if needed
2 tablespoons flour
1/2 cup dry white wine
1/2 cup each:
diced carrot, scallion, potatoes and celery
*Since crab meat is delicate, use equal parts green and white for the scallion
1/2 cup fresh, canned or frozen whole corn kernels
3 sprigs fresh thyme, leaves stripped and stems discarded
4 cups chicken or vegetable stock
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 pound fresh crabmeat

In a large stockpot, over low heat, render fat from pancetta, until meat is lightly browned.  Use a slotted spoon to remove meat and, if needed, add enough olive oil to equal about 1 tablespoon oil.  Add 2 tablespoons flour to hot oil and use whisk to combine.  Stir until mixture makes a smooth roux and starts to brown, about 3 minutes.  If roux is too thick, add a bit more oil.  Add wine, stir to combine and reduce over low heat by 1/2, about 4-5 minutes.  
Add carrots, scallion, potatoes and celery, stir to combine.  Add thyme leaves and 4 cups chicken or vegetable stock.  Season with salt and pepper.  
Cook over low heat until vegetables are tender, about 10-12 minutes.
Add pancetta and corn, heat until hot, about 2 minutes.
Stir in crab and heat, but do not boil.
Serve hot, with cornbread or hush puppies. 
*Stew may be made a day before serving.  Overnight refrigeration allows flavors to meld.

 

Crab stew with cornbread

Wild NC Persimmons

Certain words are ingrained in my memory.  "Bitter" is one I learned when I was about seven years old.  That fall, my paternal grandfather, Lawrence Hamby, took me to hike land not far from his Happy Valley home and we came upon a wild persimmon tree.  Recent frost sweetened the fruit and he handed me a small, dusky orange globe and told me to taste it.  Sweeter than my grandmother's pumpkins or my mother's sweet potato casserole, the treat delighted me and I reached to pick another from the tree branch above my head.  When my grandfather saw my face after I popped the fruit in my mouth, he laughed and said, "Made your mouth pucker, didn't it?"  My first encounter with truly bitter flavor, that wild persimmon is a taste memory I carry to this day.

Unripe wild persimmons are very bitter

This week, to celebrate my fifty-seven years, Richard and I traveled to a remote location on North Carolina's northern Outer Banks.  Twiddy and Company provided a delightful Carova home escape with 4x4 Atlantic beach access and quiet canals that beckoned boats to the Currituck Sound.  When we arrived at the rental home, wild horses, descendants of Spanish explorers, greeted us, curious about the food supplies we carried in large coolers, but we obeyed local laws and did not feed them.  

One of the Carova greeters

Thousands of migratory birds swooped by our outdoor seating as they continued their long journeys to warmer winter climates and early one morning, I watched a blue heron slowly fly along the canal in our backyard, his wings a mirrored image in the still water.  Along with the joy of observing wildlife in this pristine environment, I discovered a grove of persimmon trees, yielding ripe, sweet fruit that awakened childhood memories and inspired possible recipe ideas.  Richard and I walked among the trees, shaking trunks and scooping the falling fruit.

Sunset over a Carova canal

After carefully washing the persimmons, we squeezed the seeds from the fruit and placed them on a glass plate where they could dry, planning to grow them at our western NC home.  The fruit was lush, sweetly delicious and required no blanching or pre-cooking.  I added persimmon pulp to pancake batter and we enjoyed a wild, sweet treat for breakfast.  

Carova Wild Persimmons on Tree

Growing food is a soul-satisfying task; foraging wild food that rekindles a connection to family history is priceless.  If you are fortunate enough to find wild persimmons, try this recipe for a breakfast that will offer sustenance for your body and inspiration for your soul.  Just be sure the fruit is ripe; if it is not, you may create your own bitter taste memory!

Wild Persimmon Pancakes

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon grated nutmeg
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1/2 cup buttermilk
1/2 cup persimmon pulp
1 large egg

Mix dry ingredients in large bowl.  Add wet ingredients, mix well.  In a large skillet, heat 1/2 tablespoon oil and fry batter, in 1/4 cup batches, in 3-inch rounds, flipping when bubbles form on top.  Serve with warm honey or fruit syrup.

Garden Volunteers Welcome!

At the end of each summer gardening season, I try to tabulate statistics.  While not as exciting for sports fans as football yardage or baseball batting averages, these numbers reveal the best and worst performing plants and often dictate plans for the following spring.  
 

Volunteer Squash and Volunteer Watermelon

As I recently thumbed through volumes of spiral-bound notebooks, dirt stained pages that represent years of farm work, I noticed a surprising trend.  Although some crops produced extremely well during certain years, those same heirloom varieties sometimes have a "off" year.  Drought, too much rain, less-than-ideal temperature swings and pest attacks all contribute to crop failure, but those dirty notebooks reveal that, year after year, volunteer plants consistently outperform the ones I place in the soil.  
 

My grandmother's marigolds frequently volunteer at the farm

"Volunteer" plants spring from seed that is left in fields, whether in late season fruits and vegetables or those undesirable harvests that are cast aside and left to rot where they fall.  Last spring, Richard ran the tiller through several dried summer squash and the plants that grew from scattered seeds, protected through the winter by a hard shell, thrived and produced fruit from May until October.  Since there were so many seedlings, I did not plant additional seed, but conversations with other area farmers revealed it was not a great squash season for some.  When I tabulate the pounds I picked from those volunteer squash, I expect the total harvest to be in the hundreds.  Not bad, considering those seeds planted themselves!

Late season squash & Whippoorwill peas, harvested from volunteers

 Volunteer plants will grow anywhere a seed finds the right environment and can sometimes show up in surprising places.  One of our best-producing salad tomatoes grew from a tiny space in the rock wall that surrounds an herb garden.  A couple of years ago, a bird "planted" an asparagus seed in a large pot at our home and that plant produced edible spears this year.  Currently, one of my favorite volunteers is a large borage plant, a beautiful herb that tastes like cucumber and boasts a beautiful, deep blue edible blossom.  Conveniently, that plant chose a container that was filled with composted soil, but no other plants.
 

Beautiful Borage has a cucumber flavor

It is satisfying for gardeners to grow neat, orderly rows of healthy fruits and vegetables, but if you are willing to take a chance on volunteers and do not mind less than perfect garden layout, allow volunteer plants to grow where they choose.  An abundant harvest of "free food" just might be your reward.  

Let There Be (Whippoorwill) Peas on Earth

My maternal grandmother's peas first grew at Heart & Sole Gardens in 2012, when my parents cleaned their freezer and passed these heirloom seeds to me.  Since Granny died in 1986, I was unsure about the germination abilities of more than twenty-five-year old seeds, so I sowed them thickly.  Granny's peas, a variety known as Whippoorwill, not only germinated at a high rate, they produced an abundant crop of delicious peas.  

Freshly shelled Whippoorwill Peas

According to information published on the Southern Exposure Seed Exchange site, African slaves introduced Whippoorwill peas to the United States and Thomas Jefferson grew the legumes in his Monticello gardens.  Although I do not know how Whippoorwill peas came to my family, I am very grateful for these high-yielding, delicious heirloom seeds.  

Whippoorwill peas bloom in early morning

One of several varieties known collectively as Cowpeas, field peas or Crowder peas, Whippoorwills, cooked only in water, create a thick, meaty broth, or pot liquor, that makes a hearty soup base.  Like other heirloom seeds at Heart & Sole, last year's Whippoorwills reseeded and I have harvested as many peas from those volunteer plants as from the more orderly rows I actually planted this spring.  As versatile as they are productive, Whippoorwill peas may be dried, canned or frozen.  Packed with healthy doses of protein, fiber, B vitamins and magnesium, a half-cup of cooked Whippoorwills is only about 80 calories.   

Fresh peas on left, dried seed peas on right

While in season, look for these delicious peas at your local farmer's market and try this recipe for Whippoorwill Hummus.  I like the texture of blanched peas, but for a smoother mixture, boil the peas until they are tender enough to mash with a fork.  Be sure to save the pot liquor!

Whippoorwill Pea Hummus
1 cup fresh shelled peas
1/2 clove garlic
1 red chile pepper, seeded
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 tablespoon tahini
1 tablespoon pot liquor (pea broth)
1 teaspoon salt (I used NC's OBX sea salt)
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

In a small pot, boil peas in water for about 2 minutes, longer if you would like a smoother hummus.  Place peas in ice water to blanch, reserving broth.
Blend peas, garlic, pepper, juice, tahini, pot liquor and salt in a food processor until all ingredients are incorporated into a thick mixture.  While processor is running, add olive oil in a thin stream and continue processing until mixture is desired consistency.

Serve with crudities, naan, crackers or just a spoon.  

Simple ingredients combine to make a decadent pea hummus