Mountain Soul Food

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There are a number of favorite dishes, often ones associated with special occasions or feeling rather poorly (or as my Grandpa Joe liked to put it, in his humble but expressive fashion, being beleaguered by “the miseries”), that rise to the level of being described as mountain soul food. Usually they are foodstuffs rendered truly special thanks to being exceptionally tasty, available at only certain times of the year, ranking as “company’s coming” fare, or viewed as so tasty they make even someone who is feeling might puny inclined to pull a chair up to the table and take nourishment.

Most everyone whose family has called the highlands their homeland for generations has a dish or two of this nature that comes immediately to mind when talk of special items gracing the table comes into play. Usually this is a tasty treat that evokes warm memories of simpler days and simpler ways, or harkens back to a gifted old-time cook who was renowned for some particular recipe. A number of these, all drawn from personal experience, are covered below.

It is my hope that you will give preparation of some of these recipes a try, but likewise it would be a delight if the mere thought of soul food evokes recollections carrying you back, full of nostalgic wonder, to a world you may have largely lost. After all, there are few glues binding one to family or recreating a sense of place that grip more tightly than those associated with food. With that thought firmly in mind, join me for a loving trip back to a culinary yesteryear I cherish with the innermost part of my being. Hopefully the same will be true for you.

Smoky Mountain Stack Cake

This delicacy, so closely associated with festive occasions in the Smokies, looms exceptionally large in the corridors of my memory. That’s easily explained, because as a dessert it was always a favorite of mine. That taste memory becomes even more poignant because, long after I was grown and gone from my boyhood haunts, Grandma Minnie always made a stack cake for me whenever she got word my wife and I were headed home for a visit. The thought remains as sweet and succulent as the stack cakes baked by this wizard of the wood-burning stove. She would prepare the cake for me two or three days in advance. By the time I arrived, a magical marriage of fruit, oozing juice, and thin layers of cake had occurred. A carefully cut slice literally glistened in bright light, and invariably brought out the finest of my considerable trencherman qualities. Here’s the basic way Grandma Minnie prepared her stack cakes, although she “measured” by eye and a lifetime of experience rather than with specifics.

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  • 4 cups flour
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • ½ teaspoon baking soda
  • 2 teaspoons baking powder
  • ½ cup shortening
  • 1 cup sugar
  • 1 cup sorghum syrup
  • 1 cup sweet milk
  • 3 eggs

Sift dry ingredients except sugar together, cream the shortening, then mix in sugar a little at a time.  Add sorghum molasses and blend thoroughly.  Then add milk and eggs, beating until smooth.  Pour batter a half-inch deep in greased nine-inch pans.  The batter should be sufficient for seven layers, which for Grandma was the magical number.

Bake layers of cake at 350 degrees for 10 to 12 minutes or until light brown around the edges. Set layers aside to cool completely before assembling the cake.

Apple Filling

  • 4 cups of dried apples, reconstituted overnight with enough water to “flesh” them out completed. Start with 2 cups of water and, if necessary, add more.
  • ½ cup brown sugar
  • ½ cup white sugar
  • ½ teaspoon cinnamon
  • ¼ teaspoon crushed cloves
  • ¼ teaspoon allspice

Rather than soaking apples overnight, cover and cook at a low simmer. In either approach, check apples closely and add water as needed. Once the apples are soft enough to mash add the other ingredients and mix thoroughly.

After the baked cake layers have been removed from the oven and cooled, add sauce made from apples between each layer, carefully stacking one at a time, and place finished cake in a closed container or the refrigerator.  You can also use other fillers, such as peach butter made from dried peaches or blackberry jam, between the layers.

Squirrel and Dumplings

In today’s world of game consumption, squirrel meat is seldom consumed or even mentioned. Yet a mere two or three generations ago, when what probably ranks as the 20th century’s greatest conservation story, the saga of the white-tailed deer’s comeback had just begun, so the quest for small game dominated the hunting scene. Year after year, surveys showed that of all the types of small game squirrels were the most popular quarry. They were plentiful, seasons were lengthy, and a “mess” of bushytails made mighty fine table fare. In my family, anytime we had squirrels, and Daddy hunted them when he could and I pursued them with abiding passion, success translated to a most welcome treat on the table. Momma prepared the tree-top tricksters in various ways, and thoughts of the wonders she wrought with tender young squirrels still set my salivary glands into involuntary overdrive. For the ultimate dining experience with this small game quarry, however, nothing quite rivaled squirrel and dumplings.

  • 2 to 4 squirrels, carefully cleaned, washed, and cut in pieces
  • Enough water to stew the squirrel in
  • 1 diced Vidalia onion
  • 1 diced celery stalk
  • 1½ teaspoons salt (separated into 1 and ½ teaspoon measures
  • ½ teaspoon ground black pepper
  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1½ teaspoons baking powder
  • ⅓ cup vegetable oil (or, if you want to do it the traditional way, use lard)

Combine the initial six ingredients in a sizeable stewpot and bring to a rolling boil. Then reduce to a simmer until the squirrel is tender enough to come off the bone with a fork. Separate the meat from the bones and set aside. Save a cup of the broth for preparation of dumplings.

For the dumplings, combine the flour, baking powder, and 1 tablespoon of salt. Add enough reserved broth to work the dough with a wooden spoon. Turn it out onto a floured cutting board and knead into a ball before rolling out. Cut or pinch pieces of about 2 inches for the dumplings. Bring the broth not used for making the dumplings back to a boil and drop them in one by one. As they complete cooking, remove and set aside. Thicken the broth with a milk and flour mixture to make gravy and add the dumplings and squirrel meat back into the pot. Stir and taste to see if more salt or pepper is needed. Alternatively, small portions of flour tortillas dropped in one at a time and immersed with a wooden spoon work perfectly well.

Blackberry Cobbler

This recipe works nicely for a wide variety of fruits and berries—apples, peaches, blueberries, raspberries, dewberries, and even slightly exotics such as mulberries. It is the essence of simplicity, can be prepared in a few minutes (not counting cooking time), and while lacking the same eye appeal as a deep-dish pie decorated with latticed dough, the taste and texture are powerful pleasing. Paired with whole milk, whipped cream, or vanilla ice cream, it’s a dessert dream.

  • 1 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1 cup sugar
  • 2 teaspoons baking powder
  • 1 cup whole milk
  • ¼ pound (1 stick) butter
  • 2 to 4 cups blackberries (depends on whether you like a lot of fruit or more dough

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Combine dry ingredients and milk in a mixing bowl and whisk until smooth. Meanwhile, melt butter in a 9- x 13-inch baking dish and then blend in the dough mix. Pour it into the baking dish and distribute berries atop it. Do not stir. Bake for 30-40 minutes until golden brown on top.

Mule Ears

A colloquial description for fried pies, (with half-moon pies being another) mule ears are an easily prepared dessert often served as a snack from yesteryear. Momma and Grandma Minnie made them in almost exactly the same fashion. They began by preparing biscuit dough, then they placed a portion of it on a floured surface used a rolling pin to prepare a thin circle of dough covering most of the counter or large cutting board.

Employing a coffee saucer as a mold, they cut out a circle and filled it with a couple of tablespoons of rehydrated apples or peaches, usually sweetened a bit and with a touch of cinnamon. Then the dough was folded and the edges sealed by crimping with a fork. The oblong pies, shaped a bit like a mule’s ear, were then placed in a cast iron skillet and fried, turning only once. When turned, the point of a knife would be used to poke a few holes in the dough. Slathered with butter, those mule ears sometimes disappeared as quickly as the cook could remove one from the pan. They also kept well and were often eaten cold. I enjoyed many a pie while out on afternoon squirrel hunts.

Leatherbritches

Leatherbritches are a traditional foodstuff you won’t find on grocery shelves. They are dried green beans, traditionally prepared by piercing whole pods that had the strings removed with a strong needle pulling thread through them and drying in the sun. The beans are stored in a well-aired, dry place until ready for use weeks or months down the road. They are reconstituted and cooked, slow simmered, in a pot of water with a couple of chunks of streaked meat or maybe a ham bone. The end result tastes nothing like traditional green beans but is a rich vegetable, with a slight hint of smokiness, in thick liquid. Adorned with flakes of dried hot peppers and partnered with cornbread, leatherbritches are fine traditional fare.

Streaked Meat

Streaked meat is a type of salt pork that has long featured prominently in Appalachian foodways. Although technically streaked meat and fatback are two different portions of a pig, confusion can reign supreme when you add other descriptions such as streak-o-lean, side meat, salt bacon, and the like, but in virtually every case there are close similarities. Use for seasoning vegetables or as a wee bit of meat to go with what otherwise would have been a meatless meal. For that approach, fry the meat in a cast iron pan on both sides until done. To prevent curling, cut slits in edges or use a press to ensure slices lie flat and cook evenly. Place in a biscuit, a slice of cornbread, or crumble over scrambled eggs.

Backbones and Ribs

When it comes to backbones and ribs, the oft-stated adage “the closer to the bone the sweeter the meat” stands out in inarguable splendor. Maybe finer fixins in the meat line can be had, but rest assured they never tempted the palate of this son of the mountains (although fresh tenderloin comes in a mighty close second). Preparation of the dish is the essence of simplicity. Cut a section of a hog’s backbone with the ribs attached into sizes that will fit a crockpot or large stew pot, add some water, and let time (slow cooking) and seasoning take care of the rest. When the meat is so tender it falls from the bones and the ribs have cooked to the point where you can chew the marrow from the big end, settle in for some pure down home eating pleasure. In our family this was a traditional New Year’s Day dish, but the meat will be mighty satisfying at any time of the year. Once you’ve sampled and savored it, you’ll understand exactly what the late comedian Jerry Clower meant by the words “done flung a craving on me.”

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