Prerequisite to writing – the #Bushwhacker. The darker the skies get, the happier I get. And in the background, someone is singing old #WillieNelson. #AlabamaGulfCoast #writing #Solo #RoadTrip
Somewhere in Bama~~~~~
Reply
Tag Archives: food
—Did you say, “battle for the best cupcake?!”
#WeShareTheSameSky Join me for a week in #NYC, visiting historic sites, enjoying the history, famous eats & reflecting on growing up in the Deep South. ~ Ah, and the battle for best cUpCaKe between Magnolia Bakery and Sugar Sweet Sunshine; my quest for the tastiest rice pudding & frozen custard! What a satisfying trip! WE SHARE THE SAME SKY, a memoir is Available Here: https://www.amazon.com/Elizabeth-Mozley/e/B00J7KJWIU
#ElizabethMozley #AlabamaAuthor
There is ‘FOOD FOR THOUGHT’ but what about ‘FOOD FOR MEMORIES’?
This morning, I dropped my granddaughter, Bug, off in Gadsden. She was with me for two evenings and a day. I am specific about the time, because the time is so precious –Every Minute Counts.
Our first evening, as we sat on the front porch together, I asked: “What do you want to talk about?”
“Well, let’s listen to the Red Hot Chili Peppers and talk about what we are gonna cook tomorrow!”
I listened. And realized that when Bug said she wanted to cook dinner, and wanted to bake a pumpkin pie that that was exactly what she meant. It was really how she wanted to spend our time together.
Though we have often baked together, we have never prepared and cooked an entire meal. So, I explained it would take up a great deal of our day. Bug said she didn’t care and got busy creating the menu: BBQ chicken, (No surprise there. I remember when she was four and decided it was to be breakfast; and it was.), mashed potatoes, fresh green beans, and garlic/cheese biscuits. And, let’s not forget the pumpkin pie.
And you see, it was with the pumpkin pie that I almost messed up. I almost acted like an adult and suggest a more seasonally appropriate dessert. You know –lemon icebox, key lime or a cobbler. Thank goodness I paused and realized this was not about food, this was all about her –and she had suggested pumpkin because it was what she had set her heart on!
The kid knocked dinner out of the park! It was amazing. But, it was the time we spent together snapping the beans, peeling the potatoes, and baking the pie that I will never forget. I hope she doesn’t either. It was simple, and it was sweet -a summer memory wrapped up in preparing and enjoying a meal together.
***
The second part of the Romania lecture on WE SHARE THE SAME SKY was to expound how WE tie our memories to emotions; emotions that are most often linked to people, places and food. Because I’ve opened by sharing the recent cooking experience with Bug, I will skip the introduction and jump to the excerpt.
From WE SHARE THE SAME SKY, a memoir NYC 2007
Last year, when I began planning this trip, I purchased three guide books of the city. While mapping out Chinatown, I was surprised to find that there are almost 300 restaurants within the neighborhood’s boundaries. Some sounded better than others, and although I had my list of wants written out well before I left home, I have found that once I get into an area several things tend to dictate choice. The first two are my mood, and the prolific bragging of locals. Often as not, however, I choose a place to dine based on nothing more than the way a place feels.
Today, I am looking for an eatery called Sweet-n-Tart Cafe. My new friend Karen suggested I try the congee, a type of rice porridge. In the South, there is a particular fondness for a dessert that is also considered a staple. In our home that staple was rice pudding. It ranked right up there with the various biscuit topped cobblers: blackberry, peach or sweet potato. Rice pudding even held its own at the table when presented along with butter pound cake. All these family recipes were handed down over the years. Along the way, others crept in. Some were come across accidently and yet others long searched for -like the recipe for Lillian Carter’s Peanut Butter Pound Cake.
Rice pudding back home is a buttery, dense pudding loaded with vanilla, sugar and a pinch of cinnamon. The overall consistency can be described as velvety. Usually it arrives at the table crusted with a browned sugar and butter topping. It is wonderful hot from the oven, at room temperature and even straight from the fridge, ice cold. Like banana nut bread, rice pudding is a staple breakfast food as often as it is dessert.
During my childhood, rice pudding appeared most often when times were lean. Those were the days when a summer evening meal consisted of fresh scrubbed vegetables from the garden and fish from the trotline. Lean dinners in the winter were often bowls of pintos and cornbread or skillet fried potatoes with onions. As the seasons changed, fish gave way to game: fried dove or quail with gravy, braised rabbit, smoked turkey or venison. All of these could be taken within a five-mile radius of our home. The variety may not have been great, but there was usually plenty. Biscuits with butter, cornbread with sorghum, molasses or honey -these were present at almost every meal. Other times, they were the meal. More staples. How often I sat at the kitchen table during the late evening with Grandpa, feasting on only this and black coffee. I wish I could remember the things we talked about and the stories he told as clearly as I remember the food. Just as there was always Grace before dinner in one grandparent’s house, there were always stories in the other. Rice pudding, however, was common at both dinner tables.
Cash Only is posted on the door to the tiny restaurant. As of yet, this has been the hardest adjustment I’ve had to make in the city. Thank goodness the guidebooks warn tourist up-front. If not, it would probably be as close as you could get to having a Southern woman in true distress. At the counter, I order the Congee with Hong Dou. “Good for you,” says the man nodding his approval and making a circular motion with his hand around the stomach.
“Thank you,” I tell him. It is all I know to say.
Congee is made by cooking rice with water until it breaks down into a porridge- like consistency. It is usually flavored one of two ways: salty and robust with flavorful meat, or glutinous and sweet with red beans, dates and palm sugar. I am in want of the latter.
The congee arrives and the serving is more than I anticipated. It is a meal and has the wet consistency of porridge rather than the thickness I associate with rice or bread pudding which, when scooped, holds together. I have to admit to being somewhat put-off by the addition of beans. Trying it though, I am pleased and notice a chewiness that regular rice pudding does not have. It is warm, sweet and heavy, very much a comfort food. Admittedly, it is probably healthier than the rice pudding I grew up on because it is cooked without butter and cream.
Dear Romania,
It is 8:50 a.m. here in Alabama and it is a warm morning with clear blue skies. Up early, I went for a long walk and along the way began working over in my mind exactly what I want to share about growing up here in the southern United States when I get to Romania.
There is so much. If I am to expound on the power of storytelling here in our region, I will have to first describe the area’s earliest settlers and how they were shaped by both their heritage and the terrain of the South as it once was. And there is the melding that comes with the influx of even more settlers, their customs, beliefs, foods…
…and our history.
See? There is so much to explain before the sharing of stories even begins!
But isn’t it the same everywhere?!
Of course it is! WE are shaped by our elders and their teachings; the land and our attachment to it; our beliefs and the fundamental ideals of which we are comprised.
Nearing the end of my walk, I acknowledged that while I can share so much, it would be helpful if I understood your interest in our South- what is it YOU want to know?
I would greatly appreciate your response. I so look forward to my days in Bucharest, and to meeting you all and learning something about each of you!
Share with me something YOU love about your country, memories of the area you grew up, your stories!
See you soon!
Elizabeth Mozley
Fried green tomatoes @ both Whistle Stop Cafés
When it comes to fried green tomatoes, I thank God Alabama and Georgia are sister states! However, this weekend was about more than just food.
Well, somewhat!
There are days I crave a road trip, and when I can’t take a long one I pick something I’m interested in, do a little research and take a short one (or two related ones) instead.
Now being a Southern woman, it goes without saying that I am a Fannie Flagg fan. If the name does not ring any bells, please let me try to ring them. Fannie Flagg is the professional name for Patricia Neal, an Alabama native, actress/writer/comedian. You may remember her for co-hosting our local “Morning Show” on WBRC-TV or her appearances on Allen Funt’s Candid Camera & the game show Match Game. OH, and let’s not forget that little Southern book Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café and the amazing movie Fried Green Tomatoes!
The Irondale Café, also known as The Original Whistlestop Café is not new to me. Located in Irondale, Alabama in the greater Birmingham area, it is a short 45 minute drive from our house. And the food is worth every minute of it! Originally begun in 1928, the business was ran after WWII by three women -Bess Fortenberry, Sue Lovelace & Lizzie Cunningham-who together turned the café into a sensation. It just so happens that our author, Fannie Flagg, is Bess Fortenberry’s niece.
The idea of visiting both the Irondale location and then driving over to Juliette, Georgia where the movie was filmed struck me as something fun to do. The trip would take two and a half hours there, two and a half back. Just far enough to get away for a while and fill my tank (creativity tank/ happy tank & the bottomless pit/hunger tank). You know what I’m talking about! I just needed to get lost a while, enjoy some soul food and smile.
***
Knowing how everyone likes to hear how the food tastes and see how it looks, I decided to revisit the Irondale Café first and order a few things I don’t normally get. Being out of school last Friday because Talladega County schools can’t run buses for all the race traffic was a plus I took advantage of. It was also my excuse to hit the road!
The place was packed and plates were fully loaded! I grabbed a tray and got in line.
The pies are always my weakness! 
The special was smothered chicken livers~ a Southern favorite! I’m not sure what it is about cafeteria style restaurants, but I love how they bring out the little girl in me -I just get so excited about all the choices right there within arms reach! You get to see the food before you choose…
It is extremely difficult for me to give up something I love in order to try something new. So, I went for a few -a very limited few- of my favorites…
…cornbread dressing, fried green tomatoes & a huge slice of toasted coconut pie!
Their chocolate pie is still my favorite dessert.
***
Sunday Morning, arrived and it could not have been a more beautiful day -70 degrees and sunny! When I drove down Hwy 78 to I-20, Talladega race fans were already crowding the roads. I cruised along with my windows down enjoying a little Tony Bennett & Frank Sinatra, constantly checking my speedometer because every State Trooper in Bama was out and about.
Lost in a daydream I was in Atlanta, Georgia before I realized it!
As I exited I-75 South and entered Forsyth, Georgia my heart began to sing. There is nothing as wonderful as a drive in the country on a pretty day! I was nine miles from Juliette and I was beyond ravenous!
A farmhouse in Forsyth filled me with envy!
JULIETTE & THE WHISTLE STOP CAFE at last~
When I arrived, there were only a few tables taken by families having Sunday dinner; church had just let out. (In the South, dinner is your biggest meal on Sunday, taken at lunch & supper is your evening meal.)
I chose a little table in the front corner near the door where I could people watch and snap photos without being too intrusive 😉 
Leslie brought me the menu, a big glass of sweet tea and a plate of hot fried green tomatoes to munch on while I looked over the menu.
“You like potato and I like potahto
You like tomato and I like tomahto
Potato, potahto, tomato, tomahto…”
You like tomato and I like tomahto
Potato, potahto, tomato, tomahto…”
Too many things called to me; I was so hungry I couldn’t think clearly. Oh, what a lie!
I just wanted what I wanted: fried okra, macaroni and cheese, collards & cornbread. And, that is exactly what I got.
*The macaroni and cheese was so good I could have made a meal on it and the cornbread alone!
When Leslie returned to refill my tea glass and ask if I wanted dessert, I was ready! As usual, I felt the need to explain that I want to sample, and no, please do not bring me smaller portions! That’s what a carry-home box is for! 🙂
I followed my heart and ordered the peach cobbler.
Then I ordered the pecan cobbler & the apple dumpling.
“Are you trying all of these?” She asked, trying not to smile. When I nodded yes, she simply grinned and said, “Yes, ma’am. I’ll warm them all up!”
I tried the peach cobbler first. It was perfectly creamy with dumpling-like breading in some spots and flaky crust in others!
I set aside my spoon, saving it for last and tried the pecan cobbler. It had the same flavor as a pecan pie but less of the custardy filling. Like the peach, it was also heavenly and so sweet it made my teeth hurt! I decided to box it for later. I took one bite of the apple cobbler and boxed it as well. It was good, but I was filling up fast.
The peach cobbler and the dense lightly vanilla flavored ice cream was all I wanted. If a group of bikers had not come in and filled the cafe and the table next to mine, I’d have ran my finger through the bowl to get the rest of it! But, I’d already garnered enough raised brows and smirks for one day.
***
After lunch I decided to walk around, see the sites and browse the antique and novelty shops.
Before the filming of Fried Green Tomatoes began, many of the buildings in Juliette were run-down and overgrown with ivy and vines. Needless to say, Hollywood gussied it up. If you pay attention, at the end of the film when Ninny returns to her home and finds it is not the quaint little town she remembers, you will see Juliette as it was before the clean-up and filming began. Today, the little town remains as it did during filming -quite picturesque and very Southern.
Directly across the street from the restaurant is Vern Cora’s Antiques.
I loved the interior of this store as it was so bright and colorful. I also found too many things I wanted~
My daughter, Anderson, would love Purple Hayes which is next door! The shop was opened by Delores Hayes after her husband passed away. She came up with the name by combining his favorite color and their last name.
As I walked from store to store, I stopped and spoke with the owners. It’s amazing how personable everyone was, how willing and eager they were to talk about their little town. I met Shelley George and Jennifer Yozviak at Ruth & Idgie’s Gift Shop, where they happily showed off the back room as it is featured in one of the scenes in the film. Gives me an excuse to watch it yet again and look for matching wallpaper!
At The Blackberry Patch I found a turquoise colored mixer I should have purchased, but told myself I didn’t need!
And, all about are the quirky props from the film! Like Smokey Lonesome’s cabin, and the gravestone of Frank Bennett. The town of Juliette really is a lot of fun!
The old buildings are the prettiest.
The last store I stopped in was Tommy Moon’s store, The Honey Comb. What can I say, I just have a thing for honey…
Before I left Juliette, I drove out to get a pic or two of the dam.
And fell hard for a little white house!
Every once in a while it’s nice to just get out of town! By the time I made it back to Oxford, Alabama the race was over and Nascar fans were again filing onto I-20. Talk about perfect timing~
***
LINKS –
The Irondale Cafe: http://www.irondalecafe.com
The Whistle Stop Cafe, Juliette: http://www.thewhistlestopcafe.com
If you enjoy fall festivals you should head to Juliette this weekend for the Fried Green Tomato Festival! You’ve just missed the Whistle Stop Festival in Irondale, AL.
The grandbaby and I highly recommend it!
Me & Elizabeth Rileigh enjoying the annual Whistle Stop Festival!
*****
ELIZABETH MOZLEY
@ElizabethMozley & @CentipedeYAread
And on Facebook – We Share the Same Sky, author Elizabeth Mozley
We Share the Same Sky, a memoir
A promise is a promise!
Let’s just cut to the chase -my weakness is a blonde haired, blue eyed girl who has my heart! Four years ago I became a grandma & it absolutely changed the way I look at almost everything.
Earlier in the week I invited my daughter, Anderson, to come for dinner. I hoped to lure her into a visit by promising a pot of chili! And, I told Elizabeth Rileigh, the grandbaby, that she and I would make cupcakes and decorate them.
One minor problem: the element in my oven is out and I wasn’t thinking. Actually, I thought I’d have time to do it this past weekend. But, I forgot all about it.
That is until Monday when I called the girls to make sure they were still coming. When Anderson finished catching me up on her weekend, Rileighbug got on the phone and reminded me, “Betts, we are making cupcakes tomorrow!”
The knot that instantly hit my stomach is indescribable. If there is one thing I simply cannot stand it is disappointing people -especially children. If I promise to do something, I’m doing it.
It was, however, too late to get an element. So I thought back to my early teaching years, and all the times I had my kindergarten and first graders “cook” in class. The activity would have to be fun, consist of easy steps she could do herself and it needed to be yummy.
After work, I headed to Dollar General. It was an easy stop on my way home and I knew they would have everything I needed. I purchased: two types of Little Debbie snack cakes (a less sweet pumpkin cake that was thin, and a thick vanilla one), a can of cream cheese flavored icing, M&Ms, candy corn and some paper cupcake holders.
The girls were waiting for me when I got home & one of them was really excited about “making cupcakes”.
After dinner, Anderson took all of the snack cakes out of their wrappers while Rileigh arranged her M&Ms and candy corn. I located small and medium sized biscuit cutters and warmed the icing in the microwave to make it easier to spread.
Rileigh then got to work, using the small cookie cutter to press out the smallest bottom layer of the cupcake (the thin pumpkin cake).
She then added a little icing to “glue on” the next layer. Using the medium biscuit cutter, she cut a circle out of the vanilla snack cake. Icing went on top and she decorated them with M&Ms and candy corn.
***
I think we actually had more fun constructing these than if we had simply baked the cupcakes!
Bar-B-Que… Need I say more?!
I’ve a tendency to slip away as often as possible when food is involved.
And, Bar-B-Que calls to me like no other! Steve N’ Jan’s BBQ is one of those little out-of-the-way places that folks don’t necessarily know about -unless you are a local, that is. It sits out in the country, on roads I don’t even know the name of but drive daily to and from work -just so I can see the lolling hills of Alabama farmland, old barns and recently baled hay.
I pulled in and parked; opening the car door I was immediately engulfed by the smell of smoked meats!
Daily, I join 400+ students for lunch in our school cafeteria. My schedule doesn’t allow me to get out and about and until this weekend, I’d not had the opportunity to slip away. When I arrived, Shelly (Steve and Jan’s daughter) greeted me with a huge grin and was more than happy to recommend everything on the menu! Steve was busy behind the counter chopping meats while Jan flitted about, being gracious and refilling everyone’s sweet tea. Last summer, Steve N Jan’s BBQ won The Taste of Lincoln. I’ve been ready to dig in ever since!
Shelly stood and chatted with me while I looked over the menu. When I told her I was having a difficult time choosing she smiled and suggested, “Why don’t you go grab yourself a milkshake and come back at 4:00 when we put out the buffet. That way you can sample everything!” I raised a skeptical brow and asked if she was kidding. “I’ve never heard of a BBQ buffet! But, I’m too hungry to wait and I’m ordering a lot…” I warned, returning her smile.
I told her I wanted to start with the BBQ Nachos. She grinned, and headed off in the direction of the kitchen. “I’ve got something I want you to try,” she said over her shoulder. “We make the most amazing potato salad -but it doesn’t have any of the regular potato salad ingredients,” she explained. “Dad also makes a Loaded Baked Potato that starts with this as the base. He warms it then stacks it with mounds of cheese and BBQ.” She slid a plate of warm, pork rinds across the table too, telling me that they make these as well.
My mouth was watering for the BBQ, but after one bite of the creamy red potatoes, I only wanted more. I’d say there will probably be a time in the near future that I’ll show up for just these, but it would be a lie.
The nachos are amazing as well! 
As are the ribs… 
And the onion rings…
But the best -or at least the best thing I had this weekend- was the 5″ Pork BBQ Sandwich, pilled high with extra meet and loaded with pickles! 
I CAN HEAR WHAT YOU ARE THINKING 😉 Yes, much- MUCH of it went home in a to-go box, or two!
I’ve every intention of returning this coming Saturday for the buffet. The granddaughter, Elizabeth Rileigh, is a BBQ baby & is always ready to go out to eat! Love Brisket? They have that too 😉
Before heading out, I got to talk for a few minutes with Steve. He gladly discussed his love of cooking and smoking meats, explaining too how he refused to postpone his dream until after retirement. The restaurant has been open for four years. Following retirement this coming year, he will begin opening some during the week.
Hours of operation for Steve N Jan’s BBQ are: Friday and Saturday from 11- 8 p.m. *Buffet is ready at 4:00. They open on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday for special occasions. Catering for important events is also available. *They are NOT difficult to find and instead of giving you typical Southern directions (i.e. take the road in front of the schools, go past the big house, the old farm with the beautiful pasture and hang a right at the church…) I’ll just give you the address. You are Welcome!
BTW, If you didn’t read this in your softest, Southern drawl you must read it all over again -correctly!
Steve N Jan’s Bar-B-Que, 13849 Jackson Trace Road Lincoln, AL 35906 Phone: 205 763-7712 They are also on Facebook! https://www.facebook.com/pages/Steve-Jans-BBQ/133141530061622
You can join me there as well!
*****
ELIZABETH MOZLEY
@ElizabethMozley & @CentipedeYAread
And on Facebook – We Share the Same Sky, author Elizabeth Mozley
We Share the Same Sky, a memoir
https://www.amazon.com/Elizabeth-Mozley/e/B00J7KJWIU
hOneY, you know I have a thing for you!
Why else would I leave 130 wild, eleven/twelve year old students and head for the hills of Eastaboga, Alabama?
That’s not exactly true. I am drawn to the countryside like a bee to… 😉 The entire day, I thought of little else. My father, the herbalist in the family has long lauded its praise. He insists that local honey is best for all that ails you.
Even if it wasn’t healthy, what’s not to love?!
I met up with Justin Hill of Eastaboga Bee Company this afternoon after having missed him at Oxford’s fall festival & then again at the Anniston Farmer’s Market. I first learned of his business on Twitter and was shocked to find there was a bee company so close to home. When I called, a young man with the most beautiful Southern drawl answered the phone and graciously offered to show me his farm.
“If you get here early, I’ll let you help me feed the cows,” he promised.
I turned off Mudd Street and traveled down a long dirt road, wondering if perhaps I was in the wrong place. I parked out front, knocked at the door and paused before going back to wait at the car. Brilliant Alabama sun shone down. Even in October it can be stifling here in the South. Surrounding fields, acre upon acre of pastureland, rolled like waves, steadily climbing and steepening behind the home place. In the distance, I could just make out a white super; the air around it shimmered with movement. I stood and filled my eyes –Alabama is such a beautiful place! The tension created from being indoors all day began to slip away.
I’d just begun to wonder if I’d been forgotten when I heard the far off sound of a motor. Puffs of smoke rose across the pasture. It was Justin driving a Polaris 570 Ranger. He pulled up, drawled, “Climb in” and gladly, I did as I was told. We quickly introduced ourselves, exchanged pleasantries, then rode, talked of bees … and fed the cows! I shared my spot with Jake, Justin’s dog. (He reminded me so much of my childhood bird dog, Lemon, that I wanted to take him home!) Jake looked at him, obviously puzzled by the change in their daily feeding schedule. Justin, a 4th generation farmer, works his family’s 300 acre cattle farm.
Justin pulled over to show me a hardwood where he had captured a swarm the previous season. I told Justin that before meeting, I searched the internet for current information on honeybees, apiary regulations and current statistics on Colony Collapse Disorder. I had no idea that every hive had to be registered, or that beekeepers were required to submit a map marking all of their hives. Justin patiently explained the ins and outs of his business and corrected several misconceptions I had about beekeeping.
He pulled us closer to a nearby group of supers. The bees carried on with their work, unfazed by the sound of the engine. He explained that the black bees I helped rob in my younger years were not English bees, but rather Italian bees. These were obviously much calmer. I asked about the various colors of honey and he described being able to taste the difference in them based on the bees’ food source or when the honey was robbed from the hive. We discussed at length the necessity of feeding new or struggling hives. I discovered he currently tends over eighty supers! In 2013 and 2014, Justin was chosen for the Outstanding Young Farm Family in the Bee & Honey Division at the Young Farmers Leadership Conference.
Before leaving, Justin invited me in to sample his new Honey Mustard and loaded me up with a handful of products available from the company’s website: Honey Hand Sanitizer, emollient hand & body lotions containing beeswax and shea butter, soaps, a honey infused lip balm and a leather conditioner comprised of both lanolin and beeswax.
In the coming season, the company is also scheduled to come out with a Honey Vinegar Sauce/Marinade… and Mead! Justin’s degree in marketing from JSU is obviously coming in handy. However, his ingenuity and a hard work ethic are just something he was born with!
If, like me, you are into honey and all its health benefits you must visit Eastaboga Bee Company’s website and check out the honey & the products: http://www.eastabogabeecompany.com
You can also find Justin on Twitter @EastabogaBeeCompany
Now, about that GREAT LOGO. The following excerpt is taken from Justin’s website. He said he didn’t mind me sharing it at all!
“The Tree & The Tractor”
How Heritage Became The Symbol Of Unwavering Quality….
What does an antique Oliver Tractor, with a tree growing through the middle of it, have in common with a bee company?
Justin Hill, Founder of the Eastaboga Bee Company, says it’s the opening chapter to the story of his family history.
“The love of farming in my family comes from generations back,” says Hill. “That Oliver Tractor with the tree growing out of it is the foremost symbol of my Great Grandfather, Elvin Hill. It marks the beginning of my family’s history of farming in Alabama.”
As the story goes, Elvin Hill farmed the lands across East Central Alabama in the late 1800s. After a long hard day of working the fields, Elvin parked his Oliver Tractor and returned home for dinner. Before the meal could be served, Elvin Hill suffered a fatal heart attack.
The grieving Hill family left that Oliver Tractor in the spot where Elvin had parked it. It served as a monument of sorts, which represents the last life act of a great man and the leader of the Hill family. As the months past, a small tree began to sprout from underneath. Through the years, the tree continued to grow, committing the Oliver Tractor to the very ground it was parked on.
Notes:
While colony loss has been noted and investigated for decades, the rise in numbers during 2006, 2007 (some beekeepers reported a loss of up to 80% of their colonies) created great concern for both apiculturists and agriculturalists. It was then that the term Colony Collapse Disorder was coined.
Due to the large drop in U.S. hives from mites, disease, harsh weather, insecticides, etc. many farmers now “rent” honeybees for pollination. Thus, migratory beekeeping has become crucial to U.S. agriculture. Many beekeepers earn more money from renting bees for pollination than for the production of honey. The business is both necessary and lucrative. However, researchers are currently investigating migratory beekeeping’s effect on spreading viruses and mites.
*****
ELIZABETH MOZLEY
@ElizabethMozley & @CentipedeYAread
And on Facebook – We Share the Same Sky, author Elizabeth Mozley
We Share the Same Sky, a memoir
https://www.amazon.com/Elizabeth-Mozley/e/B00J7KJWIU
FOR THE LOVE OF FALL…
Each year, I eagerly fill my calendar with dates of fall festivals. My favorite has quickly become Oxfordfest in Oxford, Alabama –our new hometown. Oxford lies along the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains near Mt. Cheaha, the highest point in Alabama. Although Oxford continues to expand and branch out, the autumn celebration is always held in the old downtown area I love. Here places are set up for dozens of craft vendors, folks working grills and ladies tending tables filled with homemade sweets, or preserves. The smell of kielbasa with sautéed onions, homemade corn dogs, funnel cakes, and coffee floats in the fall air.
Not only is the festival a feast for the nose and stomach –it is a feast for the eyes. How can you not feel happy, walking around with a crisp breeze dimpling your skin, the air rich with the smells of food cooking, vibrant color everywhere?
Of all the rich craftwork found, my favorites are easily tooled leather and wood. Everett Martin’s hand-turned wooden bowls and Peggy’s carved/etched & painted gourds are an example of true craftsmanship. Their shop, Gourds and More, is located in Ohatchee, Alabama. (If you missed them at Oxfordfest they will be at the Little River Canyon festival the first Saturday in November.)
How unfortunate I vowed not to purchase anything for myself.
All about are the sounds of happiness –children and families laughing and talking, a gospel band sings in the distance. Community. It just feels right. Representatives from neighboring churches are present. Politicians are too –both handing out pamphlets and business cards.
Oxford Police Department is also here, busy working with droves of moms and dads who are anxious to take advantage of the Child ID kits. It is amazing how active the department is in Oxford. It’s one of the main reasons I enjoy living here -doesn’t matter what time of day it is, if you are out and about you notice that they are out and about as well. Returning from Publix one afternoon and caught a glimpse of our Chief, Bill Partridge out helping a motorist change a flat. I sang his praises all the way home. If I’d had a camera, I’d have posted the pic on Twitter or Facebook to brag! The man exemplifies hard work and dedication!
Chief Bill Partridge with Attorney General Luther Strange
************
My morning ended with a search for Eastaboga Bee Company’s table. I’ve been wanting to purchase a couple of jars of local honey and only recently learned about Justin Hill’s booming business. With over 80 hives, they not only produce a ton of honey, they also have select beeswax products. One of the beers at Cheaha Brewing Company is made using his honey. Unfortunately, it was not available when we visited this weekend. Although I missed him at the fall festival, I’ll be catching up with Justin later this week.
*A huge ‘thank you’ to my son, Jonathan Isaac Parks, for the amazing photographs!
*****
ELIZABETH MOZLEY
@ElizabethMozley & @CentipedeYAread
And on Facebook – We Share the Same Sky, author Elizabeth Mozley
We Share the Same Sky, a memoir
Goodbye Summer, Hello Fall
When the weather changes, the closet gets changed out and the plate offered at the table follows suit. It is time for fall foods, folks! While I am sure some eat biscuits year round, for me they are a cool weather food; as summer is reserved for fresh fruits that are readily available at our local farmer’s market. Admittedly, I’ve not always been a fruit lover. (Laughing, because I can hear the actor in Tombstone drawling, “You, music lover”. It’s funny only if you know the film and once you hear it, you can’t UN-hear it.) But, I digress.
It’s fall and it’s time for cool weather foods. And for me, warm, just-baked breads are at the top of the list! Of course, the memoir We Share the Same Sky is filled with reflections of growing up in the South, foods my grandmother’s and mother made, breads they baked and the hours we shared around the family table. So, I thought today I would share an excerpt, followed by a sweet potato biscuit recipe. My cousin, Dana Lynn, has been at work perfecting our Grandmother Libby’s square dinner biscuits. Perhaps she will allow me to share these as well in the near future.
From: We Share the Same Sky (an excerpt from Chapter 2)
Simplicity -free of complexity, refinement or pretentiousness
The importance of the making and sharing of bread is an amazing thing. The women in my family all make a variety of breads. But, of them all, my favorite continues to be the humble biscuit. My GrandMosie’s were the most divine! She got up early every morning to make my Grandpa breakfast before he went to work. She would fill several with butter and granulated sugar, then slip them to me with a hot cup of coffee at three a.m. because she knew I preferred them hot. I’d eat, drink, crawl back beneath the weight of handmade quilts and fall right back into a deep sleep. She also made sweet potato biscuits for me and Papa on days we went hunting. We would eat our fill, then wrap those remaining in paper napkins and tuck them in our coat pockets. They were thick, dense biscuits, so rich in flavor.
My Grandmother Libby also made incredible biscuits, though they were somewhat odd. She kept her flour in a huge tin in the cupboard; when she readied to make biscuits she would pull out a stool, open the tin and make a well right there in the flour then work in the shortening and buttermilk. The biscuit dough was removed, the lid fastened back onto the tin and put away. After rolling out the dough into a long rectangular shape, she placed it on a flat baking sheet and cut it into squares. She was the only person I knew who made them this way. Always, they were served alongside her falling-off-the-bone, fried pork chops.
Baking bread is often the basis of tradition. And, many of these traditions are linked to religion. Unleavened bread is partaken when receiving the Eucharist or the Lord’s Supper; Artos is a Greek celebration bread; elaborate wreath breads are indicative of many German celebrations and King Cake is a common Christmas tradition in countries commemorating the festival of Epiphany. Southerners in Mobile, Alabama and New Orleans, Louisiana begin the merriment of Mardi Gras with a King Cake iced in carnival colors of purple, gold and green. Whomever finds the token- be it bean or baby- baked within the cake, receives both a favor and responsibility. A Christmas custom in Poland is the making and sharing of Oplatek. This thin wafer has a holy picture pressed into it. Family members make it together, then share it with close neighbors. Each person breaks a wafer and as they eat it, forgives the other of any wrong doing or hurt that has occurred over the past year.
Today, wheat is the most widely cultivated crop on earth. But, I believe that mass production has diminished our appreciation for it. Surely, the women who grew, milled, and made their own breads viewed the final product very differently. They claimed a connection to the soil, and therefore to the land and to home. The Russian immigrants who secretly brought over their more resilient grains understood this bond. How true it is, the quote by Aldo Leopold that “the oldest task in human history [is] to live on a piece of land without spoiling it.” In our effort to progress, we have not only severed our tie to the land, we have let go of traditions that connect us to our heritage.
***************************************************************
Unfortunately this is not my GrandMosie’s recipe.
She never used one for breads or pies.
Sweet Potato Biscuits
Ingredients:
- 1 sweet potato prebaked and cooled
- 1 1/4 cups sweet milk
- 3 1/2 cups self-rising flour
- 4 tsp. sugar
- A good pinch of salt
- 2/3 cup cold solid vegetable shortening, cut into
small pieces - 4 Tbs. cold unsalted butter, cut into
small pieces
Directions:
Preheat an oven to 400°F.
Position a rack in the upper third of the oven and increase the temperature to 450°F.
Peel the sweet potato and mash with a fork, then add the buttermilk and mix until smooth.
In a large bowl, sift together the flour, sugar and salt. Add the shortening and butter; use a fork to cut them into the dry ingredients. Add the sweet milk mixture and stir until a soft, crumbly dough forms. Turn the dough out onto a well-floured surface and knead very lightly, just until it holds together.
Roll out and pat the dough into a rectangle 6 by 12 inches. Use a biscuit cutter or old juice jar to cut out biscuits. Transfer to a lightly sprayed baking sheet. Bake until the biscuits have risen and the edges and bottoms are lightly browned, 12 to 14 minutes.
*Recipe was given to me by a dear friend years ago –thank you CW. *Photo via tiny banquet committee.
*****
ELIZABETH MOZLEY
@ElizabethMozley & @CentipedeYAread
And on Facebook – We Share the Same Sky, author Elizabeth Mozley
We Share the Same Sky, a memoir
https://www.amazon.com/Elizabeth-Mozley/e/B00J7KJWIU
Elizabeth Mozley, Alabama Author 
