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Vegetables
Throughout the growing season, other farms open for pick-your-own harvests. It is almost mythical--a garden only for picking--no plowing, no weeding, no worry about frost or drought. City dwellers cannot resist the call of the canner--their eyes grow wide and wild as they imagine full pantries, buckling shelves, jars packed with the summer's multicolored gifts. Yet in the evening, after dinner, the baskets of peas gathered so enthusiastically in hunger seem bottomless. Growing up, I used to think that television must have been invented solely to pass the time for pea shellers. Now when I go to the Carrboro Farmers' Market, I almost blush at the luxury of beans and peas for sale--already shelled!
A southerner's insistence on the finest, freshest vegetables comes naturally--almost everyone had a garden, or at least access to one (I know lawyers who are still paid in produce). City dwellers had reliable farmers who called at home early each morning with dew-laden pickings. One had a vegetable man, period, though the best were hard to come by. A farmer would check and cross-check the references of any potential customer. Those who proudly sold to the Sartorises did not call on the Snopeses. One's social standing could be accurately charted by knowing from whom one bought one's produce.
B.C.C (or Before Climate Control), you might as well have gardened, for it was just as hot inside as out. Now it's a lot harder to convince yourself that it's truly worth the venture out when the temperature is 90, and the humidity higher. There's hardly anyone home in the morning, either, even if there were still vegetable men on their routes. Yet the demand is still there and is being met with the renaissance of the farmers' markets. Town, county, and state governments wisely support and encourage small rural farmers to get the best of their produce to the local populace.
Only a person without a soul would not revel in these affairs. Ham and sausage biscuits and fried peach and apple pies are the hearty breakfasts awaiting the daybreaking souls who know to arrive punctually. The flowers alone are worth the rise. Gladioli--pedestrian blooms in a florist's shop--shout the joy of creation. And the vegetables--potatoes still smell of the earth from which they were dug, tomatoes assert their independence from plastic packaging with every irregular shape. And for the true shopper, the ultimate satisfaction, a glib "you should have been here earlier for the baby okra" to a late-arriving neighbor.
Whatever the source, the variety of fresh vegetables on the southern table is staggering. Any one meal may present fried okra, corn, butter beans, sweet potatoes, sliced tomatoes, cucumbers and onions, coleslaw, cantaloupe. Such wealth often eclipses any meat served; by midsummer all-vegetable meals (with biscuits or corn bread) are common. By the time the pickled beets, green tomato relish, pepper relishes, bread-and-butter pickles are out, the meal is a celebration of endless kinds of combinations, textures, and flavors--the hallmark of southern cooking.
Bill Neal's Southern Cooking is available in hardcover ($29.95) or paperback ($16.95) at bookstores or from the University of North Carolina Press. Toll-free credit card orders: Phone 1-800-848-6224. Secure ordering online: BUY NOW |