Under Pressure

Carbonating a cocktail adds a bit of sizzle

By Tony Cross

We’re living in an amazing time, with a plethora of questions, answers, ideas and collaborations at our fingertips. I’ve never been great at anything but, thanks to the internet, I’ve learned enough to know what I’m doing. Everything from raising the temperature on my hot water heater, to recipes — the internet, especially YouTube, has been a great friend indeed. I would, and still do, fall asleep every night to YouTube while watching tutorials, music reviews and workout tips on my iPhone. A few years ago, I came across a YouTube channel called Small Screen Network. This channel has a modest number of cocktail videos, and it introduced me to the likes of Jaime Boudreau, head barman and owner of Canon cocktail bar in Seattle.

Boudreau’s segment, “Raising the Bar”, helped me understand some bartending basics: types of ice for different cocktails, shaking, stirring, tasting each cocktail before sending it out to make sure I didn’t forget an ingredient, or mess up the balance. He also has other how-to videos that deal with smoking cocktails, barrel aging and carbonating. Carbonating a cocktail. Sounds cool, right? Well, it is. Having a delicious cocktail under carbon dioxide pressure brings hundreds of tiny bubbles cascading across your palate almost like Pop Rocks candy. Probably a poor analogy, but hopefully, the dots are starting to connect.

The morning after watching the carbonating video, I went to Amazon right away. I ordered an iSi culinary whip creamer (you can get one for about $85), and grabbed some CO2 chargers to go with it. A pack of 40 single cartridges will run you around $30 on Amazon. When they came in the mail, man, I was so excited I told everyone at work about it. I explained the process; I boasted why it could transform certain mundane drinks; I broke down how it would boost sales — like I knew what I was talking about. I didn’t. I’m confident that I annoyed everyone in a 50-foot radius. So, what was the first drink I carbonated? Distilled water. I put that baby under pressure, and marveled at how cool the aftermath was.

When I decided to mess around with cocktails, I wanted to start simple. So, a margarita it was. I added all of the ingredients into the iSi, sealed the top, and added a cartridge of CO2. I shook it up to ensure the gas was absorbed by the liquids, and then I poured it over ice. It was not good. What was wrong? I used the same recipe as always, so it took me a sec before my aha moment arrived — I forgot to compensate for the ice melting. You see, shaking and stirring a cocktail make these delicious drinks very cold, but the other, and most important, purpose ice serves is dilution. Realizing this, I remade the carbonated margarita but this time I threw in a half ounce of water with it. Just right.

If you’ve got an iSi or you’re thinking about getting one, I’ll break down how to throw a quick carbonated cocktail together. Before adding your ingredients to the whipper, make sure that the vessel is very cold; ice cold is even better. The same goes for your ingredients if you have the time. The colder your mix, the quicker and better carbonated it will be. Pour your mix into the whipper. If you’re making a drink that doesn’t already call for water (e.g., Gin Rickey), then you need to add about half an ounce of water per cocktail. Screw the top of the iSi onto its base and then add a CO2 charger. You’ll hear the gas enter the chamber, and as soon as the charger is empty, shake the whipper vigorously for seconds. Slowly pulling the handle at the top will let the excess gas out. You want to do this because there was air trapped inside the container before you sealed it. Yes, you are letting out some carbon dioxide, but that’s OK because you now want to add one more charger. When the gas fills the chamber, you’ll shake for another 10 seconds. Let your whipper sit under pressure for at least one minute. Slowly release the excess gas again by pulling the handle. Once all the gas is out, you can unscrew the top of the whipper. Pour your carbonated beverage into your glass slowly, or you’ll have a mess on your hands.

One of lesson I quickly learned when I put this into my bar program was that carbonating this way is not cost-efficient. If you haven’t already done the math, each soda charger costs around a dollar after shipping. Not only that, if you’re only making one drink at a time (you can do at least three per whipper) you’re wasting even more. Realizing this, I stopped carbonating cocktails at my bar, and pretty much only use it for carbonating my ginger beer (when the yeast didn’t do its job) and for cocktail foams. Yes, the whipper was originally intended for creams, foams and such. For these, you’ll need to order nitrogen chargers instead of CO2. I think the whipper is more suited for the home bartender. A pack of soda chargers will go a long way at your pad instead of using it at an establishment.

One of the ideas I had when conceptualizing what I wanted Reverie Cocktails to be was the ablility to carbonate cocktails and deliver them. So that’s what I did. A year ago, I had to relearn how to batch and carbonate drinks on a larger scale. (That’s a totally different article.) A ton of trial and error took place, followed by more error. Do you know what pouring out a messed-up 5-gallon batch of cocktails does to a man? Once I got my specs right, however, I was very pleased. You can try one of my many carbonated cocktails (Moscow Mule, seasonal Gin and TONYC, strawberry margarita) on draught around town at locations like The Rooster’s Wife, O’Donnell’s Pub and Neville’s. You probably didn’t know, but for the past two seasons, the Chappy’s Chiller at Chapman’s is my recreation on bubbles. Boy, I love strawberries.

I’ll leave you with a recipe I made when quickly carbonating at home (with my iSi) while getting ready for a wedding last summer. It contains mezcal and my TONYC syrup. Light, smoky and refreshing; this little gadget does wonders for waking up your taste buds.

Mezcal & TONYC

1 1/2 ounces Del Maguey Vida Mezcal

1/2 ounce TONYC

1/4 ounce simple syrup (2:1)

3 ounces distilled water

Carbonated Margarita

1 3/4 ounces Milagro Silver

1/2 ounce Cointreau

3/4 ounce fresh lime juice

1/2 ounce simple syrup (2:1)

1/2 ounce distilled water

(To carbonate, follow directions in column.)  PS

Tony Cross is a bartender who runs cocktail catering company Reverie Cocktails in Southern Pines. He can also recommend a vitamin supplement for the morning after at Nature’s Own.

Art of Association

What the IRS and a legendary ’63 VW Bug (that could fly) have in common

By Jim Moriarty

It was tax time, moving day for money, and the website requested the answer to one of my security questions:

What was the make of your first car?

The answer is Volkswagen. It’s OK if you know because I took the precaution of layering in an extra level of cyber impregnability by misspelling the word, using an “o” where an “e” was required. I would like to say this was done as a diabolically clever defense against Russian hackers except that it was more a case of inadvertent stupidity. Or vertent stupidity. Whatever.

My first car was, however, a white VW bug. I think it was a ’63 purchased after its atomic half-life had expired, if the porous condition of the front wheel wells was any indication. As with most first cars, I didn’t stray far from what I knew. Growing up, the family car had been a little black VW bug, and I meant to reprise those cuddly memories. The air-cooled engine was in the back. The trunk was in the front. The bumpers looked like the teeth of a Bond villain. There was a lever on the floor you could flip with the toes of your right foot to access the reserve gas tank, the very existence of which suggested the dashboard gauge was more of a guidepost than a hard and fast rule. The heat worked, but only in the summer, and the sunroof slid back and forth like Weird Al Yankovich’s accordion. Yet, we were fond of it.

Near Christmas, after my mother got her bonus, the four of us — three boys and a little old lady — would drive to the tree lot by the highway, pick out something that still had a few needles on it, jam it down into the sunroof and drive home with the top third of our new spruce bending in the wind. We took Karwick Road home because of its legendary dip. Not to suggest that people who grow up in flat parts of the globe are easily amused, but this spot was known countywide and jumping it was pretty much what everyone did on Saturday nights if the movie was sold out. If you accelerated just right going into the Karwick Road jump, you could get all four wheels of a VW bug, with tree and four passengers, entirely off the ground. So, it was the recollection of a family hurtling through the air singing about Good King Wenceslas that I meant to recapture with my first automobile purchase.

But, you can’t go home again — at least not in a ’63 bug.

The first trip of any length I made in the white version of my black memory was my honeymoon. Our honeymoon. We went to French Lick. (Insert joke here.) While we were there, my bride, the War Department, got an abscessed tooth. We left for home, of course, though I was conflicted. Her jaw was swollen so badly I was afraid to take her home for fear her father would assume the worst and shoot me. On the trip back, it snowed. Heavy, cold snow. Since it was winter and not summer, the heater didn’t work. The air streaming into the car was so cold we took to stuffing dirty socks and underwear into the vents to try to preserve what little body heat we could. Because the remaining steel in the front wheel wells looked more like a lace doily than, say, sheet metal, slushy, salty water from the road sloshed about in the space at my new wife’s feet forcing her to ride with her face bandaged, medicated against the pain, wrapped in her winter coat with her boots propped against the windshield.

We couldn’t find anyplace to stop and thaw out because it was January 1st and everything was closed. It was the year of the oil embargo so even the gas stations weren’t open. Finally, in the distance we saw a banner:

New Year’s Day Mattress Sale

Stumbling into the furniture store like witless survivors of the Donner Party, we threw ourselves on the nearest queen-sized bed and stayed there until we could feel our extremities again.

And that’s how the IRS got paid.  PS

Jim Moriarty is senior editor of PineStraw and can be reached at jjmpinestraw@gmail.com.

 

PinePitch

100 Years of Jugtown

For 100 years, the Owens family has owned and operated Jugtown Pottery, a working pottery and American craft shop. The story of its founding and evolution have been told by Stephen C. Compton in his new book, Jugtown Pottery: 1917 — 2017 A Century of Art and Craft in Clay, released by John F. Blair, publisher. On Saturday, April 22, the Owens family will host a day-long celebration of Jugtown’s history and the book that tells it.

The shop opens at 8:30 a.m. with new pottery pieces from the wood and gas kilns, as well as fine crafts from many artisans. Activities are planned for the whole day and will include demonstrations, a book reading and signing, a Q & A session with author Stephen Compton and the Owens family, live music by local performer Momma Molasses, and food vendors. Buggytown Coffee will be on site with a wonderful variety of coffees, teas and goodies. Jugtown Pottery is located at 330 Jugtown Road, Seagrove. For more information, call (910) 464-3266 or visit jugtown@mindspring.com.

Earthly Delights

For your gardening pleasure, local plant sales are offering an abundance of horticultural treasures, rain or shine:

Saturday, April 8, from 9 a.m.–1 p.m.

The Weymouth Center Spring Plant Sale offers perennials, shrubs, trees, groundcovers, vines and herbs, from the Weymouth Estate and members’ gardens. The Garden White Elephant Sale will feature containers, books, baskets, tools and treasures of all sorts. Proceeds go to the Weymouth Center Gardens, 555 E. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines. For information call (910) 692-6261 or visit weymouthcenter.org.

Saturday, April 8, from 8 a.m.–12 p.m.

The Sandhills Horticultural Society Plant Sale includes perennials, woody plants and bulbs and will take place at the Steed Hall (new horticultural building) area of Sandhills Community College, 3395 Airport Road, Pinehurst. For information or to pre-order call (910) 695-3882.

Friday, April 21, 1–5 p.m. and Saturday, April 22, from 9 a.m.–12 p.m.

The Sandhills Community College Annual Bedding Plant Sale is selling annuals, herbs, tomatoes and pepper plants to benefit the student’s educational field trip. Order forms are available at the Ball Visitors Center or you can order by phone, (910) 695-3883/3882. Mail SCC-Landscape Gardening Dept., 3395 Airport Road, Pinehurst, NC 28374. Email johnsond@sandhills.edu or fax (910) 695-3894. Pre-order to get the best selection. The sale will take place at the Steed Hall (new horticultural building) area of Sandhills Community College, 3395 Airport Road, Pinehurst.

Saturday, April 22, from 10 a.m.–3 p.m.

The Pinehurst Garden Club Plant Sale features local favorites. Profits provide a scholarship for a Sandhills Community College horticulture student and contribute to area beautification projects. To place an order, please visit www.pinehurstgardenclub.com or contact Janis McCullough at (910) 420-2208. Pick up your plants or shop at the sale at Pinehurst Fire Dept. Station 91, 405 Magnolia Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 420-1777.

Marshmallow Madness

The ninth annual Peeps Diorama Contest is on, and the Southern Pines Public Library invites you to let your imagination and sweet tooth run wild in creating a diorama that stars the Peeps marshmallow chicks and rabbits in a scene from your favorite book. Or for the digitally inclined, create a “Peep Show” video.   

The contest, sponsored by the Friends of the Library, is open to all ages, and prizes will be awarded by age group for best in show. Entries are limited to one per contestant for both the diorama and video contests and must be received by 5 p.m., Sunday, April 30. Find rules and entry forms online at www.sppl.net or at the library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines, open Monday — Thursday 10 a.m. to 7 p.m., Friday and Saturday 10 a.m. to 5 p.m., and Sunday 2 to 5 p.m. Call (910) 692-8235 for more information or visit the website.

A Walk Through History

From the ancient cave paintings of Lascaux to the street murals of today, people around the world throughout time have used murals to express themselves. Denise Drum Baker, an artist and recently retired professor of visual arts at Sandhills Community College, will talk about murals as a means of freedom of expression, social activism and propaganda. Baker’s lecture, “If These Walls Could Talk,” is part of the Fine Arts Lecture Series presented by the Arts Council of Moore County and Weymouth Center for the Arts & Humanities. The lecture will take place on Thursday, April 6, at 5:30 p.m. A wine-and-cheese reception with Baker will follow. Both events are at 555 E. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines. Cost to members is $11, $16 to nonmembers. Info: (910) 692-6261 or weymouthcenter.org.

The Joy of Broadway

On Saturday, April 8, The Carolina Philharmonic presents a Broadway cabaret, in which Maestro David Michael Wolff will introduce you to two of Broadway’s exciting entertainers in an intimate musical event replete with all the character, color and drama of the legendary Great White Way. There will be an afternoon performance at 3 p.m. and an evening performance at 7:30. Both performances will be at Sandhills Community College’s Owens Auditorium, 3395 Airport Road, Pinehurst. Tickets range from $11 to $60 and are available at www.carolinaphil.org. For more information, call (910) 687-0287.

Spring Scavenger Hunt

The Southern Pines Public Library and the Arts Council of Moore County invite children between the ages 3 and 12 to take part in a fitness-themed scavenger hunt on Monday, April 17, at the Campbell House playground. The scavenger hunt clues will lead the youngsters through some fun obstacles that will get participants of all ages up and moving as they hula-hoop, skip rope and crab walk to find eggs, prizes and fun. Top off the afternoon with a make-your-own-ice cream sundae. It all starts at 3 p.m., rain or shine, and is free and open to the public. The Campbell House is located at 482 E. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines. For more information, call (910) 692-2787 or (910) 910-692-2463.

Meet the Beatles … Again

On Saturday, April 22, Vision 4 Moore presents the amazing Beatles tribute band “The Return,” performing songs that cover two eras of Beatles music. The first set will highlight the Ed Sullivan era, with “I Want To Hold Your Hand,” “A Hard Day’s Night,” and other early hits. For the second set, the band will dress in uniforms from the Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album to perform songs like “Hello, Goodbye,” “Revolution,” and “Hey Jude.” Tickets are $15–$35, and profits from this event will benefit MIRA Foundation USA, Caring Hearts for Kids of Moore, and Meals on Wheels of the Sandhills. The performance starts at 7:30 p.m. at Lee Auditorium, Pinecrest High School, 250 Voit Gilmore Lane, Southern Pines. For more information, call (910) 365-9890.

Live after 5

On Friday, April 14, The Legacy Motown Revue will take you back to the days of The Drifters, The Coasters, The Jackson 5, Earth Wind & Fire, The Temptations, and many more legendary icons. The concert is free for the entire family, and you can bring your own picnic basket, but no outside alcoholic beverages are permitted. Food trucks will be on-site with sandwiches, pizzas and desserts. Wine, beer, water and soft drinks will be available for purchase with the proceeds supporting local nonprofits. Don’t forget to bring your lawn chairs, blankets and dancing shoes! The music starts at 5:30 p.m. at Tufts Memorial Park, 1 Village Green Road W., Pinehurst. For more information, call (910) 295-2817 or visit vopnc.org.

A Russian Virtuoso in Concert

Classical guitarist Irina Kulikova was born in Chelyabinsk, Russia, where under the guidance of her mother, cellist Vinera Kulikova, she started developing her musicianship at an early age. At the age of 12, Kulikova began performing throughout Russia and abroad and graduated with distinction from the Mozarteum University in Salzburg (Austria), the Gnessins Academy in Moscow and the Conservatoire of Maastricht (The Netherlands). Treat yourself to this free concert on Tuesday, April 11, at 7 p.m. at Owens Auditorium, Sandhills Community College, 3395 Airport Road, Pinehurst. For more information, call Ryan Book at (910) 695-3828.

April Books

By Romey Petite

Royce Rolls, by Margaret Stohl

The author of the best-selling Beautiful Creatures and Black Widow series turns her pen toward satire in this thinly veiled caricature of the Kardashian family. Bentley Royce, a girl of 16 years, is sick of playing second fiddle to her older sister Porsche (Kim), suffering at the schemes of her manipulative mother, Mercedes (Kris), and her brother, Maybach (Rob), who is of little help to her. Reality intercedes when both Bentley and T. Wilson White — her brother-in-law to be — careen off a cliff on Mulholland Drive. Peppered throughout with memo-like footnotes and press releases, Royce Rolls is a rollicking send-up of the culture of reality TV and our desire to live vicariously through the stars.

What It Means When a Man Falls from the Sky: Stories,
by Lesley Nneka Arimah

In What It Means When a Man Falls from the Sky, Arimah uses speculative fiction to illustrate truths that are otherwise intangible. Each story is a skillfully concocted, strange, yet plausible, world that a novelist might have wasted an entire sea of words on. In one, a girl crafts a baby out of fallen hair she sweeps up at a salon, but her woven-child’s hunger proves far more ferocious than any child born of flesh and blood. In another, an equation is discovered with the potential to solve all the unhappiness in the world, but mathematicians repeatedly fail to fully integrate it into daily life. Fans of Karen Russell’s St. Lucy’s Home for Girls Raised by Wolves or Aimee Bender’s Willful Creatures will adore and admire the seamlessness with which Arimah takes only the time she needs to tell a story — before weaving another its equal in depth. 

Blitzed: Drugs in the Third Reich, by Norman Ohler

Five years of scintillating research went into Ohler’s Blitzed, an account of the rise of drug culture in Weimar Germany and the immediate fallout — the weaponized manufacture of opiates. It includes the dark history behind corporations such as Merck & Co, Bayer AG and Temmler, and how these companies became producers of narcotics on an unprecedented scale in Nazi-Occupied Germany. Unique to his book is the deconstruction of Adolf Hitler as the teetotaling, abstinent figure the Fuhrer purported himself to be. Blitzed spent five weeks on the best-seller list in Germany, where its publication received considerable acclaim regarding its findings. Its debut on this side of the pond is not to be missed. 

The Boy in the Earth, by Fuminori Nakamura

While being a meditative yet relatively slim weekend read, Nakamura’s The Boy in the Earth has the makings of psychological thriller, a nightmarish noir setting. Part Taxi Driver (1976), part Dostoevsky’s Notes from Underground, for the author it is a personal voyage into the human soul. The narrator, an orphan and survivor of a traumatic, abusive childhood, finds himself co-habiting with a strange girl who has also fallen between the cracks in the world. Further disillusioned at discovering his father is still alive, he remains desperate for answers. Nakamura’s first novel to be translated into English, The Thief, was a finalist for the Los Angeles Times Book Prize. He is also the winner of the Oe Prize, Japan’s highest literary award.

Foxlowe, by Eleanor Wasserberg 

Set against the backdrop of the East Anglian moorlands, the Foxlowe folk are an in-group holding fast to their strange maypole customs. Superstitious and reclusive, they live in fear of the Bad, cursing the memory of Leavers, and otherwise shun the Outside. In their society power comes from naming and marking boundaries. All new arrivals are rechristened. Green, being born in Foxlowe, has no past outside of their tiny world, but she isn’t the only one for long. A baby arrives and Green finds herself forever bound to this newcomer, having mistakenly named her Blue. While Wasserberg’s invented language in this foreboding coming-of-age novel might put one in mind of Anthony Burgess’ A Clockwork Orange, her approach toward depicting this rural society has earned her comparisons with the haunted works of Shirley Jackson and reveals her to be a promising new talent — a voice in fiction to watch out for.

My Cat Yugoslavia, by Pajtim Statovci

An arranged marriage becomes the impetus for Statovci’s first novel, a tale bridging two moments in time. In 1980, Emine — a Muslim girl from Kosovo — receives a marriage proposal from a man she’s had little chance to get to know. While the pairing is blessed by the girl’s father, it’s clear her own feelings regarding the match aren’t mutual. Shortly thereafter, war breaks out and the couple flees to Finland, where they try to raise a family despite their splintering union. It is their youngest son, Bekim, who features prominently in the adjacent narrative — intertwined with the first and taking place in the present day. He lives a libertine life of eccentricity, allowing his pet boa constrictor free rein of his apartment. His life takes a turn from the simply odd toward the fabulist when he meets an allegorical cat. It is the subsequent conversations with this outspoken anthropomorphic feline that lead Bekim to return to his mother’s homeland and retrace the steps of his family’s fragmented history.

The Road to Jonestown: Jim Jones and Peoples Temple, by Jeff Guinn

The New York Times best-selling author of Manson returns with a chilling new foray into the subject of mass-hysteria and cults of personality with his investigation into the mind behind the Jonestown massacre — Jim Jones. The Road to Jonestown delves deeply into the jungle settlement in Guyana and provides revelations into the bizarre figure of Jones himself, painting a portrait of the enigmatic figure of the Peoples Temple’s leader. Thoroughly researched and compiled from interviews with survivors of the congregation’s cyanide-induced mass suicide, Guinn’s book is a harrowing read into this quintessential, yet uniquely American, tragedy — one that must never be forgotten.

CHILDREN’S BOOKS By Angie Talley

Bunny’s Book Club, by Annie Silvestro

On a sunny afternoon, on the front steps of the library, Bunny discovered the power, the delight of stories and knew he would do anything to have more books in his world.  Book lovers everywhere understand the power of being absolutely drawn in by a good story and will enjoy sharing this tale of book love. Ages 3-6.

65 Story Treehouse, by Andy Griffiths

Andy and Terry live and write books in their 65-story treehouse that was once 13, then 26, then 38, then 52 stories tall. It has a pet-grooming salon, a birthday room where it’s always your birthday, a room full of exploding eyeballs, a shark tank, a lollipop shop, a quicksand pit, an ant farm and a time machine. Andy Griffiths, author of the wildly popular 13 Story Treehouse graphic novel series will bring his own version of wackiness to The Country Bookshop Thursday, April 6, at 4 p.m.  This event is free and appropriate for children ages 6-12 and their families.

Panda-monium,
by Stuart Gibbs

In this fourth fast-paced endangered species mystery series set in FunJungle, panda fanatics are frenzied, awaiting the arrival of the park’s most thrilling animal yet, Li Ping, a rare and incredibly expensive giant panda. However, when the truck transporting Li Ping finally arrives, its precious cargo has vanished.  Author Stuart Gibbs will visit The Country Bookshop Monday, April 3, at 4 p.m., to introduce Panda-monium as well as his New York Times bestselling Spy School and Space Case series. This event is free and appropriate for children ages 8-12 and their families.

Daughter of a Pirate King,
by Tricia Levenseller

Alosa is the daughter of the infamous Pirate King, the overlord of the seas. When he hears word of a map to an island filled with treasure, he sends the only person he has trained himself — his daughter. She expects her task to be easy but soon encounters a problem, the first mate, Riden. Alosa is just as determined to find the map for her father, but will Riden prove too much to resist? Ages 13 and up.  PS

Mystery in Pieces

Here’s a clue — Walmart is not guilty

By Renee Phile

A few weeks ago, my bestie from high school, Caren, flew up from Orlando to spend the week with me. I have only seen her maybe four times since we graduated from high school nearly 16 years ago, so, as you can imagine, we wanted to fill our time with plenty of meaningful, friendship-building activities.

After she arrived at the airport, we grabbed a bite to eat and then headed to the store to pick up groceries for the week. We decided, as we were throwing salad, quinoa and other organic items (I mean ice cream and four types of cookies) into the cart, that we needed some type of bonding activity. A puzzle was just the answer. We spent around 45 minutes in the puzzle aisle examining every single one while the ice cream in our cart melted. Right before we walked out of the store puzzleless, because I didn’t want to tackle an under the sea scene and she didn’t care to work on a Star Wars one, the answer, once again, became very, very clear: a 750-piece with a pink and purple sky, with mountains, a river and trees in their autumn peak, all surrounding a white castle flashed right before our eyes.

Our eyes met and we knew.

This was the one.

That night we started construction on the border. Our border. She took the sky, and I took the foreground, which were those blasted, confusing swirls of autumn trees.

Caren’s job allows her to work from her computer, so she stayed home with our puzzle while I went to work the next day. Around 2 p.m., a nagging feeling appeared in my mind. I sent her a text:

Me: 2:14 You better not be working on the puzzle

Caren: 2:16 I’m not

Me: 2:17 Yes you are

Caren: 2:18 Only two pieces

Me: 2:18 Stop!

Caren: 2:19 OK, no more. I will wait for you

An hour later. . .

Me: 3:15 Stop working on the puzzle!

Caren: 3:17 Only two more pieces

Me: 3:20 Ugh! I’m leaving work. Be there soon. Leave the puzzle alone.

We worked on our puzzle on and off through afternoons and evenings. Occasionally, my boys would help, but they typically lost interest within a few minutes. As the days crept by, we realized something was off. We had yet to connect the sides with the border, and we just kept thinking we had not found the right piece or there were missing pieces. The bottom border was almost a wavy line. I had put the bottom together and, while it was just a nagging feeling, I truly thought maybe Walmart had sold us a defective puzzle.

“I think this piece goes here, but I just need some scissors to trim the edge, and then it will fit,” I said, halfway kidding. Caren exploded with laughter, and we continued to work on our project.

One night after a very exciting SCC basketball game, we plopped down at the kitchen table to work on our puzzle. Caren peered at the bottom border pieces and burst into hysterical laughter, like to the point where I thought something might be wrong with her.

“Are you kidding me?” she said. “These don’t fit! This one doesn’t fit! This one doesn’t fit! Renee! You have been forcing pieces together that don’t fit!” I was a bit embarrassed, but mostly relieved, even if the problem was me.  Laughing, she pulled apart the border. She connected some, reconnected others, the wavy border straightened, and the mystery was solved. Shew. No more blaming Walmart.

Caren left for home before the puzzle was finished. A bunch of trees were left, and they literally looked as if autumn had thrown up. The oranges, reds and yellows all swirled together near the bottom of the puzzle. I didn’t go back to it right away. One Friday night, though, I decided I wanted to finish the puzzle, glue it together, and frame it.  I spent an hour or so connecting piece by piece until it was finished. Every piece fit. I snapped a picture of the masterpiece and texted it to Caren.

The next morning, I woke up, and with coffee in hand, I admired my work. Suddenly, I noticed something very peculiar. There was a piece missing from the sky. Just one. Gone.

I figured one of my boys snagged it to be funny. I asked each of them, “Have you seen this piece?”

“Nope.” David said, “Maybe you should ask Kevin.”

“Kevin, have you seen this piece?”

“No! I promise! David probably knows!”

With each passing hour, my technique changed:

“I really want to frame this picture and hang it up. Could you please give me back the missing piece?”

“Look, I don’t care who took it or why. Just put it back. Have it back by the morning at 6 a.m. I don’t even need to know who stole it.”

“No one is leaving the house until the piece is back.”

“We aren’t eating again until the piece is back.”

“Stealing puzzle pieces from your mom’s puzzle and lying are sins.”

“GIVE IT BACK!”

No admissions. None.

I even questioned Bailey, my 2-year-old Rottweiler, and she claimed that she had no idea where the piece had gone.

Days later, the piece is still gone. No one will admit to it, and if it doesn’t appear by Friday, I’m just going to glue the puzzle and frame it with a hole in the sky. I’m done questioning the suspects. I don’t know what else to do.

I’m completely puzzled.   PS

Renee Phile teaches English composition at Sandhills Community College.

Harbinger of Spring

The blue-gray gnatcatcher heralds the seasonal migration in Central N.C.

By Susan Campbell

It won’t be much longer . . . the wheezy calls from blue-gray gnatcatchers will soon be echoing from the treetops, signaling the beginning of spring migration here in central North Carolina. But these tiny gray-and-white birds are not going to find you. You are going to have to find them. As they flit around searching for small insects, they tend not to stay in one spot long enough for a good look. But with patience and a sharp eye, a determined birder will spot the bird’s characteristic dainty bill, white eye ring and long black tail with white edges.

Some of these passing gnatcatchers will stay put and raise a family, or two, here in the coming months. The species is known to breed across most of the Eastern United States at lower elevations. Within the gnatcatcher family this is the only species that is truly migratory, although individuals that we encounter have not likely traveled northward very far. Wintering grounds may be as close as Florida though some gnatcatchers may wing their way back from as far away as Cuba or the Bahamas.

Despite their name, gnats do not form a more significant part of the bird’s diet. Foraging for any invertebrates they can find, a gnatcatcher will sometime capture insects and spiders that are too large to swallow. But this ingenious bird divvies its prey into smaller portions by banging the insects on a branch to dispatch them and then pulling their appendages off until they are small enough to swallow. Its secret weapon to uncover insects? A long tail that it will flick from side to side to disturb the vegetation and cause potential prey to fly into visual range.

The species is sometimes referred to as “Little Mockingbirds,” not so much for their plumage but for their tendency to incorporate elements and snippets of other birds’ songs into their own.  Short songs involve wheezy “spee” notes. But longer songs, meant to better advertise territory in the spring, involve a variety of sounds: chips, whistles and mewing notes that are typically very high-pitched. When they cannot get their point across, males will chase one another, sometime ranging abroad as far as 70 feet or more. If things get particularly fierce, the competitors may even rise up, chest to chest, high in the air, with snapping bills in what looks like an odd game of “chicken.”

Here in the Piedmont and Sandhills, blue-gray gnatcatchers can be found in any forested area where there is a significant understory. This is a species that thrives on woody vegetation and an insect-rich environment. Nests tend to be high up in hardwoods and are constructed with fine grasses and a variety of soft materials. Furthermore, they always include an exterior layer of mosses or lichens that camouflage the small cup-like nests from predators. As with the only slightly smaller ruby-throated hummingbird, nests need to be almost invisible. Adult blue-gray gnatcatchers have no other effective means of defending the next generation than the ingenious use of camouflage. As it is, eggs and young are often located by small mammals, as well as climbing snakes and other birds. But the parents will readily build a new nest, even incorporating old nesting material to speed up the process, several times in a season, if need be.

So if you keep an eye as well as an ear out towards the end of the month, you may spot one of these spirited and industrious little birds. Tiny blue-gray gnatcatchers are certainly one of the most overlooked members of our summer bird fauna. However, I guarantee they will be out and about if you take the time to notice in the weeks ahead.  PS

Susan would love to receive your wildlife sightings and photos at susan@ncaves.com.

Martins Redux

Catching up with a brother act

By Lee Pace

The sports world is chock-full of successful sibling stories. From coaching you have Jim and John Harbaugh, and Rob and Rex Ryan. From quarterbacking, exhibit A is certainly Peyton and Eli Manning. The tennis world features sisters Venus and Serena Williams, and brothers Bob and Mike Bryan. The Busch boys (Kyle and Kurt) have won often on NASCAR tracks, and you cannot get close to center ice without stumbling on a Stahl (Eric, Marc, Jordan, Jared).

Golf from way back had Lloyd and Ray Mangrum combining for 41 PGA Tour wins, from a generation ago Lanny and Bobby Wadkins emerging out of Richmond, and today Francesco and Edoardo Molinari are forces on the European Tour.

So what to make of Zachary and Joshua Martin, the dynamic brotherly golf duo from Pinehurst now plying their trade at the University of North Carolina?

“It’s an interesting sibling dynamic,” says Pinehurst teaching pro Kelly Mitchum, who gave both brothers lessons during their high school days. “They’ve competed against each other, but I’ve never sensed anything but them truly rooting for each other. They always wanted each other to do well.”

“It’s like they’re each other’s biggest cheerleader,” adds UNC coach Andrew Sapp, who brought Zach into the Tar Heel program in 2013 and Josh in 2015. “I really haven’t seen a sibling rivalry between the two. I was out of town with Josh once at a tournament and we heard that Zach had lit it up in a qualifying round back home. Josh was genuinely excited to hear his brother shot a good score.”

The Martin brothers have acquired over their dozen years in Pinehurst quite the golfing pedigree. The family was profiled in the Wall Street Journal in 2008 for its adventuresome move from Wilson in Eastern North Carolina to Pinehurst so that the boys could have access to the village’s largesse — courses, instructors and a 24-7 golf ambience. Bowie and Julie Martin gave their boys opportunities in all manner of sports as youngsters, but in time they gravitated toward golf. Bowie’s job as owner and president of a family business involved in manufacturing and distributing premium table tennis equipment worldwide gave him the freedom to relocate. At the time, Zach was 10 and Josh 8.

“I was too young to know how crazy it was with our parents having a business in Wilson,” Josh says. “But it worked out well for everyone.”

“I can better appreciate the history of Pinehurst as I’ve gotten older,” Zach says. “When we first moved, all I saw was a bunch of golf courses. Then you understand more about the North and South Open, the PGA Championship back in the 1930s, you definitely get a better appreciation. I think being in Pinehurst has definitely helped both of us develop as golfers.”

Zach first caught the attention of Sapp while shooting a 66 at Mid Pines in a junior tournament in 2012. “He made everything he looked at,” Sapp remembers. “He’d bang it, go find it and drain another birdie.” Zach’s birdie putt in a playoff on the 17th hole at Pinehurst No. 8 secured the state championship for Pinecrest High in 2013.

Josh won a pair of Donald Ross Memorial titles and four U.S. Kids World Championships, held each August in the Sandhills, and in 2014 at the age of 17 became the youngest winner ever of the North Carolina Amateur Championship.

And they evolved with a single-minded focus that’s an oddity today with so many social media and youth league sports distractions.

“They never canceled a lesson, never were late for a lesson,” Mitchum remembers. “No matter the weather, they were on time and ready to work.”

Josh’s ability in particular earned him somewhat legendary status around the resort and community — originally the family rented a house on Pinehurst No. 3 and several years later moved to Pinewild Country Club. Enter a Google search for Josh Martin and you’ll find one subjective yet interesting blog listing him among the top 10 child golf prodigies of all time (along with Tiger Woods and Michelle Wie), and included is one unsourced account of a golfer at Pinehurst allowing this 7-year-old kid with ketchup on his shirt to join him on No. 4 and Josh shooting a 78. The grown-up asked the kid for an autograph after the round was over.

“We joined up with older people all the time,” Zach says. “At first, they were a little hesitant because we were so young. No one wants to be held up by little kids who are just learning. But once they saw we could play, they enjoyed it. We had a good time playing with other people and made some friends over the years.”

Sapp says he often runs into golfers and families from around the country and as far removed as China who knew of Josh’s dominance in the U.S. Kids World Championship and Rich Wainwright, an executive at Pinehurst and assistant golf coach at Pinecrest High, whistles looking at Josh’s prep era that included him, Eric Bae (now on the golf team at Wake Forest), Doc Redman (Clemson) and Henry Shimp (Stanford) and says, “That’s U.S. Open material there.”

Zach has caddied for Josh twice in the U.S. Amateur, and this spring both are competing for regular playing spots on a Tar Heel lineup that is likely the deepest and most experienced it’s been in many years. Zach is 22 and a senior, Josh 20 and a sophomore.

Bowie Martin says one of the elements of golf that he and Julie as parents favored in their children’s evolution was the emotional control and manners one had to learn to succeed in the sport. More than a decade into it, that’s proven prophetic.

“Etiquette, patience, self-policing are parts of golf,” Bowie says. “You don’t have officials on top of you. In golf, you monitor yourself. That’s the neat thing about it. If you hit a bad shot, you might have five minutes before you can get it back. Patience is huge, staying even-keeled over a longer period of time.”

To put the Martins’ games in nutshells, Zach plays a power game, Josh a precision game. Zach hits the ball “forever,” as Sapp says, and can overpower a course. He shot the course record at UNC Finley, a 1999 Tom Fazio design that can stretch to 7,220 yards, with a 63 last fall, then broke it two weeks later with a 62.

“Off the tee, he’s probably the longest guy on the team,” Josh says. “When he gets it going, he can go really low. He makes a bunch of birdies and can beat anybody.”

Zach might bomb his drive over bunkers on a par-5, while Josh, by no means short, is playing a more tactical game with carefully aimed hybrids off certain tees. Josh has a legendary short game.

“He knows how to get the ball in the hole,” Zach says, slowing down and enunciating in the hole with extra bite. “I can’t emphasize that enough. He knows damage control.”

“Josh doesn’t miss fairways, doesn’t miss greens, and makes a few birdies along the way,” Sapp adds. “When both are on, they have tremendous potential in college golf.”

I first met the Martins in the spring of 2009 when I wrote their story for the May 2009 PineStraw. Their swings were being videotaped by Eric Alpenfels, also a Pinehurst instructor and colleague of Mitchum’s, at the base of the Maniac Hill practice facility. The building blocks were apparent then — skill level, love of the game, focus, parental support.

“The boys would like to play college golf,” their dad said at the time. “After that, who knows? Golf offers a lot of opportunities to play as part of your business. You can be a teaching pro. You can try the pro tour, but that’s a tough life. That’s not the goal. The goal is the challenge of trying to accomplish something, to master a skill and get better.”

Nearly a decade later, so far, so good. Both are good students at Carolina, Zach studying economics and Josh sports administration, but both want to play pro golf. If that doesn’t work, something in the golf industry would be fine — teaching, perhaps. And the boys have grown as siblings and friends and with no apparent rivalry gumming up the works. The elder Zach even says his younger sibling’s glitzy record flips the traditional big brother/little brother dynamic.

“His accomplishments so far outweigh mine, so I look up to him and feel like he’s mentoring me every time I play with him,” Zach says.

“We’re competitive, but at the end of the day, we put down the clubs and are great friends,” Josh says.

Stay tuned for the spring of 2017 in Chapel Hill and then beyond for Zach and Josh Martin. There’s plenty of room in the winner’s circle that houses the Mannings and Mangrums — basically everybody and their brother.  PS

Chapel Hill-based writer Lee Pace has written “Golftown Journal” since the summer of 2008.

Bar Wash

The art of infusing a cocktail lineup

By Tony Cross

Working in the restaurant business can be brutal, demanding and taxing on the body. However, it’s also fun, crazy and rewarding. One aspect that I always embraced is when someone new joined the kitchen staff. It was interesting to learn new methods that he or she would bring to the table. Sharing was a big part of my job, and it never got old being on the receiving end of the exchange. Five years ago, I began a working relationship, which immediately turned into a friendship, with a new chef who had moved down from Chapel Hill named Randy. This is around the time that I started to get my hands dirty with bartending. One afternoon, Randy asked me if I heard about infusing bacon into bourbon. “Um, what?” I replied. I had no clue what he was talking about.

Randy quickly broke it down for me: Just take the fat from cooked bacon, add it to a bottle of bourbon, seal up the container, and put it in the freezer. When the fat separates, strain the bourbon out, and voilà! He recommended me putting a spin on an old-fashioned cocktail with maple syrup. So, I did. I had the drink ready as a special by the weekend, and it was a hit. For my Bourbon Kush, I used Maker’s Mark bourbon, Grade B maple syrup for the sugar (that’s the first one I could get my hands on at Nature’s Own), Angostura Bitters, and an orange peel for the oils and garnish. It was delicious!

What I didn’t realize until a few months later was that I had totally ripped off the bartender who created the “Benton’s Old-Fashioned,” Don Lee, from prized New York City bar PDT (Please Don’t Tell). Looking back, I think Randy had the drink at a local restaurant in Chapel Hill and thought it was something I could run with. Another thing I didn’t grasp was the science that goes behind what is now known as washing. It’s another way to infuse flavors into your booze. You can fat-wash (bacon fat, olive oil, sesame oil and butter), milk-wash and egg-wash, to name a few styles.

I didn’t mess around with any kind of “washing” until a few years later when I received the book Liquid Intelligence from famed bartender/wizard extraordinaire Dave Arnold. In Intelligence (which reads like a science textbook, by the way) Arnold covers these different washing methods. The first style that caught my eye was milk-washing. Milk-washing is an ideal infusion when you’re trying to cut out the astringency from an infusion used in a shaken cocktail. For me, this chapter couldn’t have come at a better time — I was looking to combine an Earl Grey tea infusion with a homemade marmalade that I was working on. Arnold’s directions for milk-washing were simple enough. I took eight of the best organic Earl Grey teabags that I had available, steeping them into a bottle of vodka for an hour, letting the infusion get very dark. Next, I took 250 ml of whole milk and poured it into a large mixing container, then adding the infused vodka to the milk (very slowly) while stirring. It curdled right away, just like the directions stated. After letting the milk and tea-infused vodka sit for a couple of hours, I slowly stirred a half-ounce of fresh lemon juice into the mix. The acidity of the juice allowed the milk to break away from the vodka. The remaining steps told me to gently scoop out the large curds and let the vodka sit another few hours before fine-straining the cloudy infusion. Simple enough. The result was a silky and tasty infusion. The vodka had all the flavor of the tea, without the bitterness from the bergamot. The Jean Grey soon found its way to my spring cocktail lineup.

An easier way to wash is with olive oil. I was recently invited to a pop-up dinner where the theme would be early 1900s France. I decided I wanted to do a spin on a martini, and since I’m not full-time behind a bar these days, I love trying out new things whenever I get a chance. I took a bottle of Plymouth gin and added that to a container with 4 ounces of organic, cold extracted olive oil. Just a quick, hard shake (10 seconds will do), leaving it to sit for a couple of hours. Place upside down in the freezer, allowing the oil to harden (it won’t completely freeze) before filtering out the infused gin. You want to place the container upside down, so the oil will be almost frozen on the bottom of the container when you strain the gin out. Doing this gave my gin an oily texture without the briny flavor that is associated with olive juice. It also added depth to my cocktail. Check out the recipe below.

Though I am no pro when it comes to washing spirits, like most everything else involving bartending, use quality ingredients. Don’t wash your spirit with anything that you wouldn’t eat or cook with. If it doesn’t taste good to you, it probably won’t taste good in your final product.

Lave et Humide

1 1/2 ounces olive oil-washed Plymouth Gin

1 1/2 ounces Dolin de Chambéry Vermouth

4 dashes Crude “Sycophant” Bitters

Combine ingredients in a mixing vessel, add plenty of ice and stir until liquid is ice cold. Strain into a chilled coupe glass. Add a lemon peel to the drink after expressing its oils over the martini.  PS

Tony Cross is a bartender who runs cocktail catering company Reverie Cocktails in Southern pines. He can also recommend a vitamin supplement for the morning after at Nature’s Own.

Mimi’s Dress

A wedding to remember, a grandmother no one will ever forget

By Anna Kraus

Through it all there was Mimi.

I got married a year ago this month. It was a destination wedding of sorts, held in Seaside, a quaint beach town located along the panhandle of Florida. Our small home there has been the site of family gatherings and vacations for as long as I can remember. As an Army brat it is the closest thing to a hometown that my family and I have. It is a special place.

Friends and family gathered for the weekend to celebrate my husband-to-be and me, and the weekend was kicked off with a rehearsal dinner that everyone was invited to. Everyone was invited because everyone, including friends, was family. A local restaurant paid homage to my husband’s family with paella cooked on an open flame, wine glasses filled with Spanish wine and Champagne bottles popping. Love was shared, toasts were made, and new acquaintances became old friends.

I got ready for the ceremony at my parents’ beach house, a bubble gum pink house that barely holds five people that was overrun with bridesmaids’ dresses, makeup, our two golden retrievers, Max and Molly, and camera equipment. It was frantic and cramped and hectic and it was perfect, made more so by being able to wear my Mimi’s wedding gown. My mother helped me dress, buttoning a thousand buttons and then (not so gently) throwing her veil on my head. Photographers whirled around us and puppies stepped on hemlines.

The dress itself is not really my style; I would not have picked it. It is a ball gown with yards of tulle and lace and stitching. I would have chosen something more modern with fewer frills. But wearing a gown that multiple generations of my family — my Mimi, my aunt and my mom — had worn made the moment I walked down the aisle that much more special.   

The wedding was held in a beautiful, small chapel in town. It holds 100 people, the exterior is white wash, and the interior is stained cedar with enormous windows that take up all the wall space, filling the one-room chapel with sun. Almost every pew was full. After the ceremony pictures were taken and I was whisked back to the house to change into something easier to wear. At the reception I showed off a dress more my style, a short white dress better suited for dancing until all hours of the night.

And there was dancing and singing, eating and drinking and festivity. Lights were strung across an outdoor square. Farm tables were decorated with blush garden roses and greenery. Candles twinkled and provided light as the sun set and everyone at the wedding celebrated my husband and me.

Through it all there was Mimi. At the rehearsal dinner she charmed and captivated. She adopted an old friend as “an honorary Barnes girl” and embraced new family as if they had been part of every family gathering for as long as she could remember. She conversed and cajoled as only Mimi could. She posed for pictures, encircled by her family, new and old. Mimi loved it.

At the wedding Mimi sat in the front row, delighting over being with all her family and honored by the fact that her eldest granddaughter was wearing her wedding dress. As I danced with family and friends at the reception, Mimi was right where she loved being, surrounded by family, in the center of things, holding court under a gas lamp for warmth. Mimi loved it.

Mimi passed away in October. It was a blow to our family, driving home the point that the extended family had lost the heart that kept us all truly connected. But it was also a chance to gather, and to gather is good. To gather together is a means to support and love and embrace each other. She brought us all together as only Mimi could. But Mimi’s absence was felt. She should have been holding court, staying up just as late as the rest of us as we all swirled around her. Sipping a glass of wine and staying right in the thick of things as we told stories and made memories. And Mimi would have loved it.  PS

Anna Kraus is Cos Barnes’ granddaughter. She lives in Alexandria, Virginia, with her husband, Andrew. 

Can Biochar Boost the Sandhills?

Secrets of pre-Columbian soils might hold a key to better harvests

By Jan Leitschuh

Spring beckons. Garden digging commences. Some will work organic matter and cover crops into their soil; a few innovative others will also use powdered biochar, an intriguing new” substance with history dating back thousands of years — and a whole lot of worldwide interest and research.

To some, that soulful, springtime urge to root about in rich dirt is an exquisite, primal thing. We in the Sandhills can do it too. Lucky us. In March, others with sticky, clay-based soils have to wait. Our native sandy soil has many blessings — easy to work, drains well with a structure that’s hard to destroy, and our dirt doesn’t stain everything orange like clay.

But, and it’s a big but, our sandy soils have significant drawbacks. They don’t hang on to nutrients or water very well. They . . . drain. Fertilize your vegetable garden and — whoosh! — one of our typical growing-season deluges will rinse those expensive nutrients right out of the root zone and down into the water table. Farmers find they have to re-fertilize frequently, and irrigate often during dry spells, driving up costs. Our soils are also acidic, in part due to this “rinsing” action of frequent and hard rains. The Sandhills were among the last areas of the state to be settled, due to poor soils.

Organic matter will help all these issues.

And so will biochar, say local growers Mark Epstein and Billy Bullen of Flow Farms of Aberdeen. They make their own biochar and amend their very sandy soils with this special charcoal-like substance. Extremely porous, biochar shares many beneficial properties with organic matter — and best of all, it’s very stable and lasts far longer than compost. In fact, thousands of years longer. Studies have reported positive effects from biochar on crop production in “degraded and nutrient-poor soils,” that is, sand.

Could biochar become an essential tool in our Sandhills gardening — and even agricultural — tool kit?

“It’s an exciting approach,” says Taylor Williams of Moore County Cooperative Extension. “There is some new research on it about to commence right here in Jackson Springs, at the Sandhills Research Station.” Mike Parker, a NCSU tree fruit specialist, was recently was awarded a $63,000 Specialty Crop grant to study the effect of soil biochar incorporation on peach production at the Sandhills Research Station.

Take organic matter (OM) first. Work in some old compost, rotted manure or leaves, being exquisitely careful of the source. We don’t want any residual herbicides, heavy metals, weed seeds or pesticides. Voilà, you just increased your soil’s water — and nutrient — holding capacity. This is worth restating. In droughty, sandy soils, this ability to capture water and fertility is critical to making a crop. OM also feeds the soil life and microorganisms, which help make nutrients available to plants. Fabulous stuff all around, except for one sent. little problem. Assuming you can find a clean and affordable source, OM burns up fast during our hot, humid Southern summers, often before a crop is finished fruiting.

This is where biochar seems to offer benefits. Biochar is not just charcoal like your BBQ grill briquettes. Biochar refers to a specific sub-type of charcoal made under particular temperature and low oxygen conditions, called pyrolysis. It becomes “thermally modified biomass.” Biochar is what is left after the volatile material in wood is cooked off without much oxygen. The end result is impervious to microbial breakdown, even as it provides soil microbes with open-armed living conditions, a kind of “Hotel California” for soil life. It is more effective than OM at improving soil fertility over the longterm. Some reports have biochar increasing crop yields by significant percentages, especially as a field mellows.

Epstein and Bullen make their own biochar, torching waste from their woods in a specially built burner called an Adam retort. “Everything for us is so far experimental,” explains Epstein. “Last year, we did 15 to 20 burns. Every time we do it, we learn more.” Epstein is a veritable connoisseur of soil. As a longtime vegan, as well as a produce grower, he eats what he grows. That led him naturally to research the most nutritious soils to cultivate in the Sandhills.

The biochar story is a marvelous one, stretching back thousands of years, deep into the South American Amazon rain forest. Early Spanish conquistadors exploring the Amazon reported large, shining cities, with vast and productive fields, El Dorado. But later explorers found only jungles and poor yellow soil, and only small villages with subsistence plots. Rain forests share some of our local issues — frequent hard rains wash nutrients from the soils, and create poor fertility and acidity. It didn’t look as if there was enough fertile soil to support a large “shining city,” much less a culture of them.

We now know that wasn’t so.

Archeologists discovered and mapped certain black, fertile patches of soil they labeled “terra preta,” a Portuguese term meaning black earth. These surprisingly fecund areas were created by the pre-Columbian Amazon Indian culture through certain slash-and-char, low-oxygen techniques — charring (as opposed to combusting), then mixing the black, pounded result with the poor local soils. This prehistoric, man-made soil was found to be higher in nitrogen, phosphorus, potassium and calcium than adjacent soils. It held water and reduced leaching of nutrients. Scientists have referred to it a “microbial reef” that promotes mycorrhizae growth and other beneficial microbes. The Amazonian terra preta, all together about the size of Great Britain, could support large-scale agriculture. They had turned some of the world’s worst soils into some of the best.

And, most intriguingly, it has retained its fertility for thousands of years. These terra preta soils are understandably popular with the local farmers producing cash crops such as papaya and mango, which are said to grow about three times as rapidly as on surrounding infertile soils. (For archeology buffs who wish to look deeper into this fascinating story, Google a program on YouTube called “The Secrets of El Dorado”).

Modern writers have called it “the magic soil.” Could it help the Sandhills too?

“I think it’s an important piece of the puzzle,” says Epstein.

Scientists speculate that two of the greatest problems facing the world — climate change and the hunger crisis — might be alleviated, in part, by biochar.

Biochar increases crop yield several ways. The production process leaves a stable product with a massive amount of micropores, like an organic sponge that won’t biodegrade. While not fertile in itself, biochar’s tiny openings help grab nutrients that might otherwise rinse away to downstream pollution, and bank them for future use, keeping the goodies in the root zone where plants can pull from them as needed. Biochar increases water-holding capacity, maintaining soil moisture over a wide variety of climate conditions, and doesn’t burn off like organic matter. Remember those fertile Amazonian patches, over 1,000 years old? The Pre-Columbian material is still there, acting as a water and nutrient bank, still fertile.

Epstein agrees on both counts. “We’ve noticed our soil holds water better now,” he says. “We have ‘sugar sand’ here on our property, with very little natural organic matter. It’s classic Sandhills sand.” Since adding ground biochar to his soil, he’s noticed that, “we don’t have to irrigate as much. Go into the middle of our fields — it’s very high in organic matter. We still use cover crops of legumes and grasses that are an important factor in tilth. Yet, at the end of the season, we still have good soil.”

Biochar also adds carbon to the soil. Normally, cropping the same piece of ground year after year leads to a reduction in soil carbon. Carbon makes up about 50 percent of a plant’s material, so when a crop is harvested, the carbon leaves with it. This can be mitigated with “green manures” and cover crops that are tilled in spring, but again, OM burns off. Loss of soil carbon decreases productivity.

Not the soil on Flow Farms. Anecdotally, crops are good. Scientifically, soil tests show increasing CEC, or cation exchange capacity — a measure of a soil’s ability to grab nutrients. Soil tests also indicate ample fertility remaining in the soil. “With an immense surface area, biochar holds on to enormous amounts of ions,” says Epstein. “It’s a magnet to nutrients, grabs them up like a sponge. We’re not losing our soluble materials year after year.”

Biochar as stable, fixed carbon can store large amounts of greenhouse gases in the ground for centuries, potentially reducing or stalling the growth in atmospheric greenhouse gas levels, say some scientists. From 2005 to 2012, there were 1,038 articles referencing the word “biochar” or “bio-char” in the topic indexed in the ISI Web of Science. Institutions as diverse as Cornell University, the Agricultural Research Center of Israel and the University of Edinburgh have dedicated research units.

Flow Farms has finally produced enough of its product for its own fields, and will offer biochar to the public for the first time this year, price still unknown. “We’re trying to make it affordable to people and still make an honest return,” says Epstein. Because of the soluble nutrient capture, “It’s an upfront cost that lessens over the years,” he says.

The economics have yet to be determined. According to one source, application rates of one to eight tons per acre may be required for significant improvements in plant yields. Biochar costs in developed countries vary widely. With few producers, prices are often too high for the farmer/horticulturalist. An alternative is to use small amounts of biochar in lower cost biochar-fertilizer complexes.

Biochar is not fertile in itself, but collects nutrients from its environment, leading some users to pre-soak their biochar in fertilizers or compost. Epstein prefers to mix his into the top few inches of soil, “and let it age in its natural environment.”

As an organic, or as Epstein puts it, “veganic” grower, he also adds many beneficial natural elements, such as chopped leaves, gypsum, azomite, kelp meal, green sand, Tennessee Brown phosphate and lime. “We’ve done everything but come in and kiss the soil,” he jokes. But then, turning sand into black gold is his hobby and passion.

In springtime, any gardener understands this at gut level. Stay tuned to biochar. The char of the past may become a tool of the future here.  PS

Jan Leitschuh is a local gardener, avid eater of fresh produce and co-founder of the Sandhills Farm to Table Cooperative.