Appalachian Word of the Week -- NANNER

It seems, from a couple of comments I've received lately, that some of my dear readers are not reading the stories before commenting. Please make sure you're not one of them. Also, if you are insulted by our wonderful Appalachian heritage -- including our history and dialect -- then don't bother reading. Just allow those of us who love being from Appalachia to share the love and respect for our people. We're about love, not hate. No feuds allowed here.

Is the word NANNER spoken in your house? Do you know what it is?

Although we usually used the word banana instead, NANNER did sometimes slip out when my mom and dad talked about them. My grandmother used it often. My brother, Larry, used it all the time. Of course, he often used certain words and terms just to be different. I think it was his attempt at being humorous -- like the time he answered the phone and said, "President speakin'." It happened to be a call for me from the leader of the American Legion. His face drained of color and he started stuttering. I may tell you another time why the American Legion was calling a high school girl.

NANNERS were a staple in our house.

I often took a peanut butter and NANNER sandwich to school for lunch. I loved the fragrance of warmed NANNER, peanut butter, and Bunny bread as it cooked inside the classroom (We had no air conditioning in those days). Ahhh. I can smell it now.

NANNER split

Of course, NANNERS weren't only for sandwiches -- or sammiches as most of us called them. A special warm-weather treat was a NANNER split. The best of everything sweet. I loved the ice cream, chocolate syrup, butterscotch syrup, coconut, and peanuts sprinkled over the whipped cream. I mustn't forget the cherries on top. The healthiest thing in it was the NANNER itself.

My brother enjoyed slicing a NANNER for his bowl of cereal each morning. His huge bowl of cereal. I think he ate three boxes of corn flakes a week.

I prefer my NANNERS dark yellow, but without dark spots. I like them firm and sweet. If they're too green, they make you pucker and if they're too ripe, they are mushy and remind me of squash. Like Goldilocks, I like my NANNER just right.

Green NANNERS

Just right NANNER

Too ripe NANNER

Way too ripe NANNER (squash NANNER)

It does seem a bit strange that a tropical fruit was so popular in the mountains of Kentucky. They had to travel a long way to get to us. The trip was worth it if you ask me.

Did you call them NANNERS in your house? If not, what did you call them? And what is the best way you liked to eat them -- then and now? Also, what degree of ripeness do you prefer? Green, yellow, spotted, or nearly black?

I love to hear your stories.

Appalachian Word of the Week -- MOONPIE

As I wandered the aisles of the grocery store the other day, I came across one of my favorite childhood treats --  MOONPIE. I had to have one. Alas, they come in boxes now. I got them anyway. It took all my strength not to scarf down more than one each day. 

Of course, that is probably because, just like everything else from our childhood, they are much smaller now. At least these are much smaller. They're called minis and have only 110 calories. The box also stated that they are made of "real sugar." Nothing artificial in my MOONPIE.

RC Cola

As I slowly nibbled on my MOONPIE, savoring every bite and remembering the good old days, I had a hankering for what usually accompanied a MOONPIE.

Yep, RC Cola and a bag of peanuts. Now for you folks who have never enjoyed an RC and peanuts, I'll explain. You open a small bag of salted peanuts (cost 5 cents back then) and pour them into the bottle of RC (a tall skinny glass bottle). It bubbled a bit and then you swigged on it until the peanuts mixed with the RC and you got a peanut with your swig.

Peanuts for the RC Cola

Ah, yes! A bite of MOONPIE, a swig of RC and peanuts. That was the high life.

Several years ago, my family moved to Chattanooga, Tennessee. That's when I discovered the MOONPIE was created there. The MOONPIE bakery is still creating those luscious cookies, filled with marshmallow, and dipped in chocolate. They even have a MOONPIE store! 

Did you grow up eating MOONPIE? Did you drink RC with peanuts?

Do you eat MOONPIE today?

I'd love to hear about your memories.

Appalachian Word of the Week -- LIGHT BREAD

I can smell it now. Warm LIGHT BREAD, fresh out of the oven. Nothing like it.

Growing up in southeastern Kentucky, we didn't have any of those fancy kinds of bread you can get from the bakery or grocery store now. We only had LIGHT BREAD. Most people refer to it as white bread, but we called it LIGHT BREAD.

The LIGHT BREAD of choice in our family was Bunny Bread.

The Bible says we can't live by bread alone, so we found all kinds of things to put on our LIGHT BREAD.

For breakfast, I loved eating cinnamon toast. It was made by putting chunks of butter in the corners and one in the center, sprinkling sugar on the entire slice, and then topping it with cinnamon. Mom put the slices on a baking sheet and stuck it in the oven until the butter melted and the edges turned golden brown. Yum. Sometimes, she substituted brown sugar for the white sugar. The brown sugar became crunchy as it melted on the toast. Either way, it was a great way to start my day.

LIGHT BREAD played a major role in my lunch menu for the first several years of my school life. I either packed a fried baloney sandwich with mustard or a peanut butter and banana sandwich into my little brown poke or metal lunch box. During the warmer months, without any air conditioning in the school, my sandwich warmed up as it waited in the back of the room. When I opened the lid, the aroma of warmed banana and peanut butter, wrapped in LIGHT BREAD, overwhelmed my senses. I breathed it in long and hard before I devoured it.

Fresh-baked LIGHT BREAD

Nothing topped our visits to the bakery, though. We were blessed to have a bread factory near our house. Sometimes, on Dad's day off, he gathered us all into the car and took us to the bakery in Baxter, Kentucky. Daddy took me inside with him while Mom sat in the car, holding a stick of butter.

We watched the bread make its way from the oven, down a conveyer belt, to where we waited. A worker dressed in white grabbed a loaf of still-unsliced and piping hot bread as it passed and slipped it into a paper poke. Daddy paid his twenty-five cents and handed the hot LIGHT BREAD to me.

Back in the car, Mom ripped the bread open and put the butter inside. As it melted, she tore off chunks and passed them around. We sat there in the parking lot and devoured the entire loaf. Ah! Nothing like it.

LIGHT BREAD, the staple of our diet

LIGHT BREAD filled many roles in our diet. Daddy mixed up honey and butter and slathered it on his LIGHT BREAD. He also used it to dunk in his glass of buttermilk. Toasted was preferred for homemade apple butter and jams and jellies.

In summer, we made 'mater sammiches (tomato sandwiches) with mayo. Meat was not necessary. When we had hot dogs, though, LIGHT BREAD became our bun.

Hot out of the oven, out of the bag, or toasted, LIGHT BREAD served as a staple for our diet. Too bad we are encouraged to avoid bread these days. Especially LIGHT BREAD. Sad, too, that we should now miss out on the pleasure and joy from having it in our daily lives.

Did you call it LIGHT BREAD? Do you still choose LIGHT BREAD over the "healthier" varieties available today? Do you eat bread at all?

I'd love to hear your stories.

Appalachian Word of the Week -- TRADIN'

Is your larder bare? Well, you may need to do what I have to do today. Go TRADIN'.

If you grew up in Harlan County, like I did, you probably shopped at the A&P most Saturdays.

A favorite childhood memory, though, is getting to go to Pennington Gap, Virginia, with my granny and my step-pappaw to Cas Walker's. It was an all-day trip across the mountains and through those winding roads. What an adventure to ride in the back seat of their red Oldsmobile before seatbelts were invented. I slid across those vinyl seats every time we rounded one of the many curves. It was like the rides at the Tennessee State Fair every TRADIN' day.

TRADIN' at a small neighborhood general store.

If we only needed a few items to tide us over, we'd walk up the road to Joe and Anna Martha's little roadside grocery store. It ended up being my job to do the trip to do a quick bit of TRADIN'. I didn't mind when the weather was good. Besides, I usually got a treat for my effort. My favorite treat was a Brown Cow. Remember those?

Joe and Anna Martha were like friends to our family. I roamed the aisles of the store to see all the goodies available and chose the ones on Mom's list. They didn't have any buggies. I had to carry each item to the massive counter in the front and stack them together in one spot -- in case another shopper needed space for their TRADIN', too.

After I collected everything on the list, which might include a Squirt pop for Mom from the old Coca Cola cooler at the front, Anna Martha added up the tab and recorded it in her little book. Daddy paid her next time he got his paycheck.

Miner's Market in Lynch, Kentucky

Today, most of those general stores are gone. Actually, our A&P and Cas Walker's are gone, too. But, there's always an alternative in the mountains. These days, if you need to do a little TRADIN' in a hurry, you can pick up a few things at your local gas station. You can even get dinner or supper there, too.

When I did research for my novel (coming out in November), I spent some time in Lynch, Kentucky. There weren't many options for TRADIN' there, but I did discover Miner's Market gas, TRADIN', and cafe. Home-cooked food served. They only had a couple of tables inside, but the food was great.

I loved TRADIN' day. It meant I had lots of options for food and Mom cooked better meals. I never enjoyed regular breakfast foods, like cereal. Instead, I got up before school and fixed a bowl of Campbell's Chicken Noodle soup or a fried baloney sandwich. I miss those days.

In elementary school, I took my lunch in a tin lunchbox with a thermos. My thermos usually had chicken noodle soup. I also packed a peanut butter and banana sandwich. It wouldn't ruin on those hot days in my classroom. We didn't have any air conditioning at our school. I did love the fragrance of a warmed peanut butter and banana sandwich on Bunny bread. Ah ... takes me back.

Did you go TRADIN' when you were a kid? Where did you shop? Do you have fond memories of those trips to the A&P or Cas Walker's?

I'd love to hear your stories about going TRADIN'.

Appalachian Word of the Week -- FOUNDERED

Have you ever gotten FOUNDERED on something? Don't know what that is? I'll explain.

On New Year's Day, I indulged in the long-standing tradition in my family of eating black-eyed peas. They were delicious. And since I was the only one here to partake of their tastiness, I ate to my heart's content. For dinner and supper. Two bowlfuls for each meal.

I determined that I would get as much money out of those peas as possible for the coming new year by eating as many as possible.

The next day, I ate them again. Just because I like them and they were already cooked.

Late in the day, as I patted my tummy, I remembered the word -- FOUNDERED.

FOUNDERED means you have eaten so much of one food that you decide, maybe, you never want to eat that food again as long as you live.

Ever foundered on cheesecake?

I FOUNDERED on cheesecake once when I was younger and diabetes wasn't an issue yet. Thankfully, I have gotten over it and can appreciate a few bites of cheesecake again.

One Christmas, my mom gave me a canned ham for my stocking. Remember those? You had to use a key to get it open.

I loved the taste of ham, but we had never eaten it in our house. My dad couldn't tolerate it. So, the only time I could get any was when I was away from home. The reason my mom gave me a ham.

Have you foundered on ham?

Knowing that ham only stays safe to eat for a limited number of days, I ate ham for every meal, every day, until it was gone. By the time I ate the last bite, I had FOUNDERED on ham.

I felt green. Whether it was because of the ham or due to a virus, I ended up with vertigo and nausea. I threw up ham for two days. Sorry ... I know that's disgusting.

After that experience, it took years for me to be able to smell, let alone eat, ham.

My mom once FOUNDERED on cinnamon candy. She scarfed down those rolls of Reed's cinnamon candies and cube-shaped cinnamon suckers. I rarely saw her without cinnamon in her mouth.

Then, one day, no more cinnamon. She snarled if you said the word. She had finally FOUNDERED.

I could never founder on ice cream or chocolate!

I've often wondered if it's possible to FOUNDER on chocolate, prime rib, crab, or ice cream. I certainly hope not. Just in case, I think I will eat them in moderation.

Have you ever FOUNDERED on a food? Tell me about it. Have you ever eaten it again?

Appalachian Word of the Week -- GRUB

Last week's word, Thankful, listed several things about Appalachia I am thankful for. This week, I'm going to share some Thanksgiving GRUB I am thankful for.

THE TURKEY -- No matter what, we always had a turkey on our Thanksgiving table filled with GRUB. In the early years, Mom baked the turkey with a tent of aluminum foil (tin foil). Although tasty, it wasn't quite as tender as in the later years when they invented the turkey cooking bag.

I loved the white meat best. My dad loved the legs and the neck (I mentioned that last week). Oh, how he loved sucking the meat off that neck bone.

My sister and I always argued over the wishbone. I hated losing the game. The winner didn't win anything except the ability to rub it in the face of the other sister.

THE DRESSING -- The best dressing I ever ate was Granny's. In the early years, she prepared it in her coal-powered kitchen cookstove. I can almost taste it now when I close my eyes. It was perfectly seasoned with sage, bacon grease, celery, and a few other ingredients I never knew.

Red Delicious

APPLE SALAD -- We chopped up about three each of red delicious apples and golden delicious apples, added a can of fruit cocktail and mayonnaise. The secret ingredient, however, was peanuts. I loved getting to crush them with a jelly glass in a dish towel and then mix them into the salad.

Golden Delicious

Mom always made a larger bowl of apple salad than we could eat with the meal so there would be plenty for later. I always thought it was even tastier the next day. We had it the next day for breakfast, dinner, and supper. Even a few snacks. We ate it until there was nary a drop left.

That's why I mentioned last week about the tragedy when Aunt Joyce accidentally dumped the leftover apple salad into the dishwater. We'd waited all year for those leftovers.

Shuck Beans

SHUCK BEANS -- It's not Thanksgiving without shuck beans. They have a unique flavor, enhanced by a slab of fatback, that most people from Appalachia love. Most. According to the comments I received last week, not all of you have fallen for the charms of shuck beans.

BIRDS NEST -- One of my favorite dishes was rather simple. The Bird's Nest consisted of mashed potatoes, piled high in the bowl with a bowl-shaped dent pressed into the center. Into that center, Mom placed peas.

PEA SALAD - Mom loved this salad. I refused to eat it. I have a thing about chopped boiled eggs and raw onions in my food. For those of you who enjoy them, you may love this salad.

BREAD -- Although rolls were wonderful and usually on the table, Dad preferred cathead biscuits. So, we also had cathead biscuits that served as dessert when slathered with honey butter, apple butter, one of Mom's homemade jams or jellies, or just butter.

 GRUB RECIPES:

TURKEY - Mom added salt, pepper, and butter to the turkey. That was it. Nothing fancy, just baked until it was golden brown.


DRESSING - Unfortunately, Granny never shared her recipe for sage dressing. One of the greatest regrets in my life is that I never convinced her to share that recipe. I guess she wanted to be indispensable at Thanksgiving.


APPLE SALAD

Chop about 3-4 red delicious apples and 3 golden delicious apples into small bite-sized pieces.

Add 1 large can of fruit cocktail

Crush about 1 cup of salted peanuts and add to the mix (depends on how much you make and how much you like peanuts)

Add Mayonnaise by tablespoons until it is the consistency you like. You can substitute Miracle Whip, Dukes, or your favorite brand.

Mix it all up, cover, put it in the fridge and let it cool until ready your feast.


SHUCK BEANS

Soak overnight
Replace water with fresh water
Add a slab of fatback or salt bacon
Add salt to taste and according to the saltiness of the meat
(Optional) 1 onion, chopped

Cook for 3 to 4 hours, until the bean inside is soft and creamy.


BIRDS NEST

POTATOES: About 10 lbs russet or Idaho potatoes, Peeled and quartered.

Add to pot of boiling, salted water

When tender, drain.

Add:

1 stick of butter
Milk, a little at a time, as needed to reach the right consistency

Mash with hand mixer or old-fashed potato masher until creamy.

Spoon into a large bowl, using the spoon to make a crater in the center large enough to hold your cooked peas.

PEAS: Cook (canned or frozen) peas with preferred seasoning

Strain and add butter to taste

Scoop into the crater in the mashed potatoes


PEA SALAD

3 cans of sweet peas, drained (or an equivalent of thawed frozen peas)
3 hard-boiled eggs, chopped small
3/4 cups cheddar or American cheese, sliced into small strips to equal size of eggs and peas
1/2 cup onion, chopped small
2/3 cups mayonnaise (or your preference)
Salt and black pepper to taste

Mix all ingredients and keep in the fridge until feast time.


CATHEADS

2 cups all-purpose flour*

1 tablespoon baking powder

1 to 2 tablespoons solid shortening at room temperature (Crisco, lard, or butter)

1 cup buttermilk

1/2 teaspoon salt, Optional

Melted butter for top of dough before baking

Work the shortening into the flour. I use my hands, some people use a spoon or fork. Don’t overmix, should look like coarse crumbs.

 Slowly add the buttermilk and stir it just enough to make a ball in the bowl.

Prepare the round pan or iron skillet by melting a thin layer of shortening. Setting it on the stovetop while the oven heats should do the trick.

Pinch off a wad of dough and plop it into the pan. Repeat until the pan is full.

Top with some melted butter.

Bake in preheated 400 degree oven for 15 to 20 minutes or until brown on top.

*If you use self-rising flour, don’t add the baking powder. It already has it in there.

Remember: Appalachian recipes are dependent upon how much you make, your ingredients, and your preferred taste. So, experiment.

What is your favorite GRUB for Thanksgiving? Do you have any family recipes you must duplicate every year for it to be a true Thanksgiving celebration?

I'd love to hear your stories.

May this be your happiest THANKSGIVING ever and may the GRUB you eat, be memorable -- for all the right reasons.

Appalachian Word of the Week -- THANKFUL

I decided to do something a bit different this week. Since Thanksgiving is coming soon, I chose THANKFUL for my Appalachian Word of the Week. Please join me as I remember. Perhaps you are THANKFUL for these, too. Or, you can add your THANKFUL memories to the Comments below.

I am THANKFUL that no matter how poor we were, we had a turkey on the table and plenty of food to eat as we celebrated Thanksgiving. I’m also THANKFUL for my family members who gathered with us—even those who were a bit challenging to get along with the rest of the year. On this day, we put it all aside to stuff ourselves with turkey, apple salad, stuffing, pea salad, and, if we were lucky, a dessert. My favorite dish, not because of flavor but because of uniqueness, was the bird’s nest. My mom filled a huge bowl with mashed potatoes, used a large spoon to make an indentation in the top, and filled it with peas. Hence, a bird’s nest.

Dad loved the turkey neck. We tried to leave the room when he got started on it. He’d sit there and eat the meat off the bones by sucking it off. Yuck. Disgusting. How I wish he was still here to suck on my turkey’s neck this year. I’d sit right there with him.

Having extended families with us made me even more THANKFUL. Granny, aunts and uncles, and cousins made the celebration even better. Laughter filled the house. Even the year Aunt Joyce helped clear the table and carried a pile of bowls to the soapy dishwater and dropped them in. Mom noticed chunks of food floating in the water and realized Aunt Joyce had dropped the apple salad leftovers into the water. Disaster! That was one of our favorites. I was not THANKFUL that I couldn’t have those leftovers. But, we laughed and gave her a hard time about it for years.

I am THANKFUL I grew up in a place where character and integrity were more valuable than money. No sense in putting on airs. You were either poor or poorer. What we were rich in was spirit, determination, strength, and faith in God. Doing good wasn’t expected, it was normal. Honesty came naturally. If you needed help, someone always rallied to your aid. And you returned the favor.

I am THANKFUL for the clear springs of water that worked their way through the limestone and bubbled to the surface for perfectly filtered water. Springs flowed into mountain streams that danced down the mountainside and into the creeks below. God spoke to me through those streams of pure water. I could almost hear his words speak to me as the water crashed over rocks and fallen trees and rushed past me, inviting me to rush along with him. I still find refuge in the presence of a fast mountain stream.

Dad, Mom, and my son
and the porch swing

I am THANKFUL for my porch swing, where I could while away the hours each day by reading or writing poems. My mountain feist dog swung with me as I dreamed of a future of experiencing the world beyond the mountains or crying to the one creature (my dog) who understood my disappointments, fears, and failures.

That swing served as my therapist in hard times and my motivator to kick-start my creative juices when life looked promising. Everyone should have a porch swing (and a dog) to be THANKFUL for.

Coal kept us warm

I’m THANKFUL for coal. It provided heat, even if we only had a pot-bellied stove or later a Stokermatic stove that monitored the temperature and kept it safe. Coal also provided for our cooking when I was younger as Granny or Mom cooked on a coal cook stove. Coal also provided a livelihood for my brother and hundreds of other Appalachian families in my county. If not for coal, many would not have survived until Thanksgiving.

Loyall High School

I’m THANKFUL for my school where I had fabulous teachers who opened my world beyond the mountains that surrounded me, teaching me literature, social skills, and thinking skills to expand my options beyond my naïve worldview. They prepared me to step beyond those mountains with confidence to go wherever God led me.

The garden

I’m THANKFUL for the garden on the mountain behind our house that provided food year-round as Mom and Dad canned extras for the winter. That garden taught me that hard work reaps benefits past the here and now. It also showed me God’s bounty provides for needs if you put forth the effort to nurture it.

Loyall Church of Christ

I'm THANKFUL for my tiny church where I learned the meaning of unconditional love. My church family served as examples of true love and guided me along my path to maturity. The most important day of my life took place among those friends when I accepted Christ as my savior and was baptized as they sang and prayed for me.

3rd grade class at Loyall

Most of all, I’m THANKFUL for all the friends who blessed me as a child and who have continued to be dear friends into my long-past-childhood stage in life. Many things have changed for us all. Some are delightful changes (like grandchildren), some heartbreaking. But the constant in our lives is the heritage we shared in Appalachia. We are all blessed.

What are you THANKFUL for this Thanksgiving season? I’d love to hear your stories.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Appalachian Word of the Week -- SHUCK BEANS

Thanksgiving is almost here. What does that mean for an Appalachian family? It means you'd better have your SHUCK BEANS ready.

If you grew up in Appalachia, you know what a SHUCK BEAN is. You may also know them as shucky beans or leather britches.

Whatever you call them, they are a necessity for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and a few other special holidays.

SHUCK BEANS are dried green beans that are reconstituted and cooked until the bean itself is moist and creamy and the hulls are soft enough to dissolve in your mouth.

My SHUCK BEANS are hanging in my window, drying, right now. They still have some time to go before they are dry enough to rattle when they are moved.

Stringing your beans

How do you make SHUCK BEANS? You take green beans--preferably fresh white half-runners or little greasies for me--clean them, then string them. Stringing a green bean is the process of snapping off each end and pulling the string all the way to the other end. Then you snap off the other end and do the same on the other side.

When you have all your green beans ready, you take a large needle and thread it with heavy duty cotton thread (I prefer thread for putting buttons on a coat, some people use dental floss.

Push the needle through one sturdy bean and tie a knot around the bean. This will keep the SHUCK BEAN from sliding off the string. Then thread the beans onto the string until it is near the end of the string. Repeat what you did with the first bean and tie the string around the last bean to secure it.

Next, hang your beans to dry. You can hand them outdoors, but you'll take the risk of squirrels or some other hungry critter eating them. I put mine on a clothes hanger and hang it near a window.



How to prepare your SHUCK BEANS:

The night before you need to cook your SHUCK BEANS, snip the strings and slide them into a large pot. (Discard the strings) Cover them with water and leave them to soak overnight.

The next morning, strain the water from the beans and refill the pot with clean water. Add some meat. Generally, I use a slab of fatback. You can also use salt bacon, bacon, or ham hocks. According to how salty your meat is, add a bit of salt. Then get the water boiling to where you have bubbles rising to the surface.

SHUCK BEANS after cooking

Cook the SHUCK BEANS for about three hours. Check on the water level often. If the level gets below the SHUCK BEANS, add more water.

After three hours, test your beans. If the bean part is soft and silky, they're ready. If they are a bit hard and mealy, keep cooking. You can adjust the salt levels now, too.

Check them again every 30 minutes to see if your SHUCK BEANS are done.

When they are just right, turn off the heat and let them sit for another 20-30 minutes.

Then you're ready for some Appalachian heaven.

SHUCK BEANS have always been one of my favorite side dishes. Each time I visited my mom in Harlan County, KY, I expected her to fix some and to have a couple of strings in her freezer for me to take home with me.

Looking for an interesting and historical side dish for your special holiday celebration? Try some SHUCK BEANS.

Did you grow up eating SHUCK BEANS? Do you still eat them? Did you ever string them and then hang them to dry?

I'd love to hear your SHUCK BEAN stories.

Happy Thanksgiving SHUCK BEANS to you.

*Special thanks to my cousin, Carol Nolan Cavins, for her SHUCK BEANS photos.

Appalachian Word of the Week -- BLACK WALNUTS

Growing up in the mountains, we had lots of different nuts available in the fall. Last week I shared my memories of chestnuts. If you missed it, you can find it HERE. This week, I'm going to share the BLACK WALNUT.

Probably, most of you know about BLACK WALNUTS, whether you harvested them yourself or not. You can buy them in the grocery store, after all.

But--do you cook with them?

This time of year, my dad took us on excursions on Pine Mountain where he knew BLACK WALNUT trees grew. He had gathered them from his youth.

One particular Saturday morning, we gathered a stack of potato sacks Mom had put aside during the year (the old red ones with webbing and a drawstring, not the plastic ones like today). We all loaded into Dad's Willis car and drove to the mountain using Laden Trail. If you don't know about Laden Trail, I'll be talking about it at a later date.

We piled out of the car, eager to go into the woods and collect BLACK WALNUTS. However ... the area Dad wanted to get to happened to be on the other side of a field, with a fence. We shorter ones squeezed through the slats in the fence and Dad climbed over.

Halfway through the pasture, we discovered what the fence had been intended to enclose -- a bull. An unhappy bull!

We took off running across the field like lightning. That bull ran faster than my short legs could go. Mom, although she was only five feet tall and had short legs, too, grabbed me and dragged me across that pasture. Thankfully, we reached the other side before the bull caught up to us. I don't remember clearly, but I think we flew over the top of that fence.

Picking BLACK WALNUTS can be dangerous. At least we didn't see any bears, venomous snakes, or wildcats.

BLACK WALNUT tree

With blood pumping like a coal train carrying a heavy load, we continued to climb the mountain and reached the tree stand Dad had remembered. BLACK WALNUT trees had dropped more BLACK WALNUTS than we could have carried home. We each began filling our bags.

If I close my eyes I can still remember the fragrance of an old-growth forest in fall -- the fallen and drying leaves, earth, moss, and nuts. I smile when I think of it. I also loved the sound of us walking through the thick leaves as they rustled and crunched beneath our feet.

One negative of picking up BLACK WALNUTS is that the hulls turn your hands black. Especially the ones that have already turned black after being on the ground for a while. It takes a while for the stain to disappear, too. Soap and water don't do the trick. The stain is so effective that some people boil the hulls and use the strained water as hair dye or dye for wool.

With each of our bags filled with BLACK WALNUTS and tied shut, we made our way back down the mountain. Daddy ended up having to carry most of the bags.

Since we were weighed down and couldn't run as fast, we decided to walk around the fenced-in pasture this time. It was a bit further, but safer.

At home, Mom took the bags of BLACK WALNUTS and laid them out in the sun to dry. Then she got busy with a hammer. First, she hammered off the green/black husks and collected the black, wavy nutshells into a large pan. Then she sat on the concrete floor of our laundry room and hammered BLACK WALNUTS into small enough pieces to retrieve the meats inside.

That hammering could get on your nerves. I usually found something to do outside during the process. I'm sure her arm was sore by the time she finished. Those BLACK WALNUT shells are hard and thick. Funny how they look a lot like the bark of a BLACK WALNUT tree.

After the hammering part was done, we each gathered pieces, a nut pick, and settled down in front of The Ed Sullivan Show to pick out the BLACK WALNUT meats for upcoming Christmas recipes.

BLACK WALNUTS -- hand-picked or
purchased from a store -- they're
great in your holiday recipes

BLACK WALNUTS have a unique woodsy flavor. Mom used them in her chocolate fudge and family recipe fruitcakes. It was about the only time of year my mom made sweets. I felt it was worth the wait. It was also worth the effort and danger required to get the BLACK WALNUTS. Nothing topped her fudge or fruitcake.

Have you ever harvested BLACK WALNUTS? Did you have a tree in your yard? Do you have a favorite way of using them in your cooking?

Would you like to go into the mountains and collect BLACK WALNUTS? I recommend a pair of heavy gloves. Oh, and you may want to avoid any fenced-in pastures.

I'd love to hear your story.

Appalachian Word of the Week -- CHESTNUTS

It's that time of year when special treats fall from the trees. I don't mean acorns. They may be a special treat for the squirrels, but not for people.

No, I mean treats like apples, walnuts, pecans, hickory nuts--and CHESTNUTS.

CHESTNUTS bring back fond memories of my childhood. They also bring back painful memories.

Have you ever harvested CHESTNUTS? Have you had a CHESTNUT tree growing in your yard?

CHESTNUTS roasting on an open fire

At least most of you know what a CHESTNUT is, right? I mean, if you've heard the song about CHESTNUTS roasting on an open fire, you have a general idea. Or CHESTNUT dressing for your Thanksgiving feast. When I lived in New York City, I loved smelling CHESTNUTS roasting at night by the street vendors.

Cooler weather means CHESTNUTS to me.

You may know what a CHESTNUT is, but do you know how they are harvested? I'll give you the low-down from my memories of childhood.

CHESTNUTS in a burr

As my friends and I walked home from school in the fall, we passed nearby a CHESTNUT tree. We could hardly wait for the seed pods (CHESTNUT BURS) to drop from the tree so we could gather them for a snack.

Walking under a CHESTNUT tree can be hazardous. CHESTNUT burrs are large, needle-spiked balls. If they hit you on the head, it hurts like crazy. Besides, the quills on the burrs feel like a porcupine dropped on your head--sharp end first.

Picking up CHESTNUTS

The CHESTNUT burrs that have already fallen on the ground are dangerous, too. Those quills will stick right through your shoes. Especially if you're still wearing flip-flops or sandals. Never mind what they'll do to your fingers when you attempt to remove the CHESTNUTS from them.

If you're fortunate enough to find a CHESTNUT tree that has dropped its nuts, look for the burrs that have already dried out and changed from bright green to brownish weapon color. Most should have popped open, exposing the CHESTNUTS inside, or dropped them on the ground as they fell. Most pods contain three CHESTNUTS.

Now, to eat your CHESTNUT! Some people warn you not to eat them raw or the tannin in them will cause gastric distress (tummy ache). I don't remember that ever happening to me or my friends. We gathered the CHESTNUTS and opened the tough skin much the same way the squirrels do--we used our teeth. It's a wonder we have any teeth left.

Roasted CHESTNUT meats

Inside the skin is a sweet, luscious nut that is more akin to a fruit than a nut. At least, it has a lot more carbohydrate than fat.

Some people, who gather more than a few CHESTNUTS, roast or boil their CHESTNUTS before eating them. The recommendation is to score an X into the skin of each nut before cooking. I think that would be much more dangerous to my fingers than the burrs themselves. The reason you should score them is that when they heat up they build up steam inside and will explode (like an egg in your microwave).

Sounds like fun to me.

No matter how you prepare your CHESTNUT, it's worth the effort.

Have you ever harvested CHESTNUTS? Ever been stuck by a CHESTNUT burr? Have a favorite way to eat them?

I'd love to hear your story.

Appalachian Word of the Week -- PERSIMMON

Every fall, my mother gave me the dire warning, "Don't eat a PERSIMMON before the first frost."

Of course, not heeding that warning would usually result in the PERSIMMON PUCKER.

That pucker was bad enough to make you never eat a PERSIMMON before its time ever again.

An unripe PERSIMMON has tannin in it. Tannin is the chemical that causes an astringent effect in your mouth. Tannin is bitter tasting and is what causes the skin inside your mouth to tighten -- making you pucker.

Basically, tannin can suck the moisture right out of you. It can feel like it's sucking the very life out of your body! Not a pleasant experience. Tannin is also what makes a dry wine dry. Fortunately, they don't use very much tannin in dry wine.

PERSIMMONS

However, when the PERSIMMON is ripe, there is very little tannin left and the fruit is extremely sweet.

My mom's warning about the first frost, however, was a tad unreliable. Although it's true that PERSIMMON is generally ripe starting in October (the time of the first frost in the mountains of Kentucky), not all PERSIMMONS are ripe immediately.

A better gauge of when you can avoid the tannin PERSIMMON PUCKER is when the flesh of the fruit is soft to the touch. It should feel like there is jelly inside the skin of the PERSIMMON. It will also have skin that looks a bit wrinkly.

I always ate PERSIMMON right from the tree. I made sure I used extreme care to make sure it was ripe enough. I only took a slight nibble to test it and hoped for a sweet taste instead of a nasty pucker.

PERSIMMON is also used for other eating pleasures. Some use them to make cakes and beverages. My friend, Michelle Medlock Adams, an award-winning author, creates a PERSIMMON pudding that is drool-worthy. Here is a photo of her latest creation. I've also included her recipe (for those of you who give me a hard time when I don't include recipes for the yummy foods I highlight on this blog).

PERSIMMON pudding
Photo courtesy of Michelle Medlock Adams 

Recipe courtesy of
Michelle Medlock Adams

PERSIMMONS have several other uses as well. The seeds are collected and sliced open each fall in an effort to predict the type of winter to expect. Inside the seed, you will either see a spoon, fork or knife. The spoon means there will be heavy snows (bad winter), the fork means the snows will be light, and the knife means it will be extremely cold.

PERSIMMON seeds are dark brown

The report is in and PERSIMMON seeds are displaying a SPOON this year. If you're in a snow-prone area, prepare for a snowy winter season.

The seeds can also be used for other purposes. If ground, a "tea" can be made. Interestingly, this tea was a coffee substitute for Confederate soldiers during the Civil War. The juices from the seeds can also be used as a gargle for sore throats and a cure for things like warts, cancers, heartburn, diarrhea, and stomach aches.

Who knew how amazing the little PERSIMMON could be?

Have you eaten a PERSIMMON straight from the tree? Have you ever experienced the PERSIMMON PUCKER?

I'd love to hear your stories.