The Kitchen Garden

Berries, Part II

Call of the blackberries

By Jan Leitschuh

What a fine time it is to enjoy local fruits — and who doesn’t love the berries of the Sandhills?

May, June and July are a wonder of seasonal berries. Last month we celebrated the delicious strawberry and the You-Pick farms that grow these delicate and juicy beauties for us.

But just as we are enjoying the earliest strawberries in mid-April, the next Sandhills berry is flowering, preparing for the hand-off sometime in later May: blackberries — the “bridge” fruit between strawberries and blueberries.

So, no worries. The sad passing of yet another Sandhills strawberry season heralds this equally delicious and healthful berry to salve our summer-hungry taste buds. Kitchen gardeners take note: Here is a low-fuss berry that genuinely likes our sandy soils.

Locally, the sweet and seedy blackberry shows up in June. Seek out these glossy berries fresh-picked at area farmers markets, or grab the kids and head out to a local farm. Pick-Your-Own places such as Eagle’s Nest Berry Farms open in early June for public picking. (But call ahead or text to check availability, says producer Karen Ring: 910-639-3966.)

Blackberries ripen at a time when green beans, new potatoes, semi-clingstone peaches, a few highbush blueberry varieties, summer squash and early cucumbers start showing up in local markets. This is when the serious summer good-eatin’ time sets in.

And not just eatin’. “I make a good blackberry lemonade,” says Ring. She makes it using fresh lemons, though a pre-made lemon mix will work too. Then, she juices a batch of blackberries and adds them to the lemon solution. “You can also make blackberry tea, adding the juice the same way you added it to lemonade.”

For a bit of presentation flair, toss in a few slices of cut lemon and a blackberry swizzler to your glass pitcher. Make the blackberry swizzler by threading blackberries on a wooden stick like a shish kebab skewer. Freeze the stick until solid, then use the frozen swizzler to cool down your pitcher and add a fruity, visual punch.

Fresh eating out of your hand is never the wrong answer. A mouthful of summer-warmed blackberries is hard to beat, and provides a surprising amount of one’s daily fiber — a nutrient of concern in the newer USDA Dietary Guidelines. In season, fresh berries and cereal or yogurt kick the day off nicely. Simple, unadorned berries atop a cheesecake, mousse or other dessert kicks up the eye appeal.

A June bride, I had small fresh fruits adorning my wedding cake tiers. The most striking visual combo was the summer blackberries nestled next to tiny orange kumquats (a very small citrus meant to be eaten whole). The entire thing tasted as good as it looked. 

Blackberries, like strawberries, have a short shelf life. They won’t just hang around in your fridge like next month’s blueberries. You need a plan, and there is none better than baking some into pies, breads, muffins, pancakes and cobblers.

Can’t mention berries without salivating over . . .  er, talking about, fruit cobblers. These jammy, fruit-rich bakes are covered with a biscuit-like crust and served hot with ice cream or whipped cream.

Ring is a cobbler fan too, and she likes to blend the fruits of the season to good effect. “I have mixed blueberries and blackberries, and that makes a good cobbler.”

She’s also combined blackberries and early peaches. “The combo of the flavors and the colors is pretty cool,” she says. Since early peaches are not as sweet as those in July and August, “you might want to use the sweeter overripe blackberries to help sweeten up your cobbler. I haven’t tried it, but I’d like to try strawberries and blackberries.”

Many folks visiting You-Picks are seeking berries for jam as well as fresh eating and freezing. “If you’re making jam,” says Ring, “you want a mix of ripe and unripe. If you use just ripe berries, you’ll get a really sweet, sweet jam.” It will override that wonderful blackberry flavor. Besides pre-picked and sorted berries, Eagle’s Nest sells the lower-cost culls that are good for making jams. Those tend to be the overripe or underripe berries picked out of the sorted batches. Eagle’s Nest also sells a pre-made multi-berry jam called Triple Berry Spin.

Let’s digress from salivation for the moment. It’s too late right now to plant your own little blackberry patch this summer, but if you have a particular yen to add a few bushes to your kitchen garden, it is not difficult. In the fall, prepare the soil in your “patch” as if for garden vegetables. The plants should be planted when dormant — in late fall or in March, about four weeks before the average date of the last frost.

Choose a couple of varieties if you want to spread out your season. There are a number of cultivars that do well here, especially a grouping bearing Indian names such as Kiowa, Natchez and Navaho. Kiowa has thorns but is a prolific early bearer with humongous fruits. Natchez and Navaho are thornless and come slightly later. Natchez, especially, benefits from trellising.

Blackberries generally have crowns that are perennial. These persistent crowns throw off biennial shoots. The shoots that sprout this year are called primocanes and won’t bear fruit. These go dormant over the winter, then flower during strawberry season the following year and are now called floricanes (flowering canes). From these flowers comes the delicious fruit. After the season is done, cut out the old floricanes, which brown and die after bearing, to make room for this season’s primocanes to do their thing the following year.

Some newer varieties such as Prime Jan and Prime Jim actually produce the first year after planting. Do your research if you add these to the mix.

Plants can be fertilized organically and simply with soybean meal and sulpomag (assuming your pH is correct to begin with). I like to mulch them with well-decomposed bark or wood chips. Your berry patch may produce for 15 years if managed well.

That first year, water plants in well. You’ll have more order and space in your garden if you confine the canes to some sort of simple trellis.

Really ripe blackberries, the sweetest phase, are easy to spot. Watch your patch carefully, as they can easily switch from underripe to “going by.” The dark berries will be shiny as they ripen, then lose their gloss slightly when truly sweet and ripe. This is the sweetest moment and, as we’ve seen, not necessarily the optimum moment for every purpose. But for fresh eating, it’s a hard moment to beat.

Everyone knows how healthy berries are. Did you know nutritionists often advise incorporating 1/4 cup of berries into our daily diets for their superior nutritional benefit? Blackberries drill down in some important areas. We mentioned how strawberries contain anthocyanins, those powerful anti-inflammatory antioxidants — blackberries have it in spades. Anthocyanins help keep our eyes and brains healthy, help ward off diabetes and lower the risk of certain types of cancer. Rich in vitamin C, they also contain the essential vitamin K. Blackberries also support bone health.

And they taste just splendid!

But, back to savoring the flavors of the season. Here’s one of the best ideas I’ve heard yet for serving up blackberries. This is a sweet-savory combo that could elevate your porch-sittin’, blackberry-lemonade-sippin’, summer-fresh to new heights.

Eagle Nest Berry Farm’s Blackberry Pizza

Eagle’s Nest producer Karen Ring bakes a pizza crust and then smears it with another outstanding local product, Paradox Farm’s chèvre. “I love the fig and honey cheese,” says Ring. Drizzle a little olive oil on top of the cheese, then add blackberries and basil. Return to oven for about 10 minutes, or until fruit is cooked flat. Serve up a few slices with a blackberry lemonade and salute the bounties of summer with a friend.  PS

Call Moore County Cooperative Extension for a list of local You-Pick berry farms: 910-947-3188.

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

The Kitchen Garden

Strawberry Fields, Now

Savor the sweet Sandhills berries

By Jan Leitschuh

Peak strawberry time is now. You know you want some.

Though you’ll find local Sandhills strawberries at farm stands and markets in late April, this delectable expression of spring hits its flavorful red stride in early to mid-May, then tapers off quickly after Mother’s Day as the weather heats up.

So you’ll not want to procrastinate — though feel free to lollygag once you’re in your friendly neighborhood pick-your-own strawberry field, scooping up the juicy red berries.

Going out to the farm to pick your own berries is just one of those “must-have” experiences. Grab a bucket, your appetite and the nearest kid. This is the time to unplug and savor a sun-warmed, sweet berry, passing onto the next generation the pleasure of gathering wholesome food sprung from the earth — and helping a local farmer hang on to the family farm, in the process. Spring for a strawberry ice cream cone on the way out.

Yes, you see, we know you likely did not plant your Chandler, Camarosa or Sweet Charlie varieties last October, as your local Sandhills farmers did. You didn’t spend time and treasure enriching your soils. You didn’t need to hover over the weather reports and your strawberry beds all winter, covering and uncovering the young plants, trying to balance the frost protection versus the sunshine.

You could this year, though, if you wanted your own little strawberry bed in the backyard. You can get a flat of strawberry “plugs” next October and plant the crowns level with the surface of your rich soil, watering in well. If not trying to support a farm on the springtime harvest, you can skip the tedious covering and uncovering and let them ripen on nature’s schedule. Keep your little patch free of weeds, and “groom” off the old leaves during the first winter, pick off most of the flowers that first spring to give the plants a chance to settle in and grow strong. Some farmers swear an extra little hit of magnesium makes the crop sweeter.

Strawberries are one of the most expensive crops to plant commercially. “Out of pocket, before you pick your first strawberry, call it $11,000 an acre, with plants, labor, soil treatment, plastic and drip irrigation,” says Taylor Williams, Moore County’s agriculture extension agent at the North Carolina Cooperative Extension in Carthage.

N.C. Cooperative Extension has a list of local U-Pick strawberry growers. “We have seven in Moore and three in Richmond, three or four in Lee County,” says Williams, “one of which is certified organic, Olde Carthage Farm.” (Call the Extension at 910-947-3188 for more info on locations.)

Sandhills strawberries are true culinary lovelies. Unlike grocery store berries, ours are tender and fully sweet, bred to be picked at peak ripeness rather than harvested while still hard enough to ship across several time zones and two or three mountain ranges. Sandhills strawberries are juicy things, sweet because they have the time to further ripen into something worthy of your grandmother’s strawberry shortcake recipe.

“There’s a difference between one that is shipped across country firm and a little sour,” says Williams. “In the Sandhills, pick ‘em ripe, eat them within two or three days, then go back for more.”

Growing up in Wisconsin, we cooked up our sweet strawberries with tart, chopped stalks of spring rhubarb for a tasty compote or our very own “Beebopareebop Rhubarb Pie.” The perennial northern plant loves colder climates and marries well with strawberries, offsetting their sweet seedy pulp with a companionable tang. While I have grown rhubarb here in the Sandhills, it was on irrigation and in afternoon shade. These days, I just see it in the produce department of a number of grocery stores come May, same time as strawberries, and snag it quickly for a hit of nostalgia.

Bananas are another famous partner to strawberries. In season, use them together liberally on breakfast cereals or on morning smoothies as well as fruit salads and desserts.

And speaking of desserts and famous partnerships, whipped cream just has a creamy affinity for Sandhills strawberries. Slice a cake round carefully in half. Slather one layer with whipped cream and berries, top with the other half and add more whipped cream and berries. Or slice open your favorite biscuit for a shortcake. Even simpler: crumble a pound cake into a goblet, layering berries and whipped cream. Top with the perfect berry.

Strawberry pavlova has to be the ultimate elegant berry dessert. Whipped cream is nestled into a nest of crispy egg-white meringue, then the strawberries are ladled atop that. Add a dash of whipped cream to top it off, with a whole berry atop that. Yowza!

Some folks are allergic to strawberries — imagine that! I was one such child, and would break out in hives even as I stuffed myself. Thankfully, it was something I outgrew. Curiously, folks allergic to birch pollen, they say, are also likely to react to strawberries.

Berries are low-glycemic brain food. An excellent source of vitamins C, K, fiber, folic acid, manganese and potassium, they also contain significant amounts of phytonutrients and colorful flavonoids which make strawberries bright red. A springtime strawberry feaster may find that the fruit acids can be hard on your dental enamel, so be sure to brush after indulging and schedule your teeth cleaning after strawberry season when they might not be as sensitive.

Sandhills strawberries are tender, and turn to mush fast. Don’t let their plastic container sweat, if you can. Moisture is their downfall. I like to store berries, all berries actually, with a paper towel between each layer to get an extra day or two in the fridge. Strawberry secrets include not washing the tender berries until right before using because of this deterioration soon after rinsing. Wash and handle them with care.

Another flavor tip is to let them come to room temperature before serving — you get maximum flavor. Once picked, store in the fridge crisper and eat within a day or two. Strawberries do not ripen further so avoid those that are dull, or have green or yellow patches.

Assuming you went berry-happy at the U-Pick and returned home with more than your strawberry-cobbler-loving self could absorb in a few days — hey, no shame, everyone does — you can preserve the excess. Some people will put up quantities of jam. You can also freeze whole berries for later smoothies, cooked desserts or even later jam sessions — simply rinse, remove the green cap and freeze whole on a cookie sheet. After 24 hours, pack them in freezer bags and use within a few months to prevent freezer burn.

An elegant and clean dessert is a simple strawberry ice to celebrate the season. Grown-ups — just add a glass, a bit of rum and a little umbrella.

Strawberry Ice:

5 cups fresh or frozen unsweetened strawberries, thawed

2/3 cup sugar

2/3 cup water

1/4 cup lemon juice

Directions: Place the strawberries in a blender or food processor; cover and process until smooth. In a saucepan, bring sugar and water to a boil. Cook and stir until sugar is dissolved, about 5 minutes; cool slightly. Add to blender. Add lemon juice; cover and process until combined. Pour into a shallow freezer container; cover and freeze for 4-6 hours or until almost frozen. Just before serving, whip mixture in a blender or food processor. PS

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

The Kitchen Garden

Sandhills CBD

The hemp landscape is moving fast

By Jan Leitschuh

The times they are a’changing. And swiftly.

You still can’t grow cannabis — that is, hemp, marijuana — in your kitchen garden, but thanks to a new December 2018 Farm Bill, it is now legal, with some tight restrictions, for farmers in the United States to grow hemp for food, clothing, products and fiber, as well as to transport their hemp-derived products across state lines, including cannabidiol (CBD) oil.

A press release from Cannetics, a South Carolina organic, industrial hemp seed and genetics company, says, “With the passage of the 2018 U.S. Farm Bill and burgeoning national hemp market, industrial hemp is primed to be an economic opportunity for new and existing farmers in the Carolinas.”

North Carolina has been ahead of the game with its special pilot program. The past several years, the state has licensed select producers to grow hemp, including at least two in Moore County last year — the McLeod Brothers Farm of Carthage and Carter Farms of Eagle Springs. This special program allowed small-scale hemp cultivation for limited purposes. Perhaps, ran the speculation, hemp could replace tobacco as a cash crop.

Thanks to North Carolina’s foresight and early start, our farmers now have a jump on the potentially lucrative and fast-moving hemp-growing train. Could hemp actually give N.C. tobacco a run for its money this year? 

“We are predicted to have the smallest tobacco crop here since the Civil War,” says Ben Priest, of Carthage, whose Priest Family Farm planted 30 acres of hemp this year under contract, with the company supplying the expensive plants. The Priests will be harvesting the buds for the company’s CBD oil products. “Five years ago we had about 135 acres of tobacco. This year we’ll have 25.”

And what of products like the medicinal CBD oil? 

“It’s all about CBD here,” says Billy Carter of Carter Farms. “Hemp here is not being grown for fiber or feed. Hemp for fiber and feed is lower value, like a grain crop. CBD is where it’s at in terms of being able to add to the farm income. And the general farm economy has been so depressed lately, if you say you’re going to have a hemp meeting, 200 guys show up.” 

One of hemp’s products, CBD oil, is currently all the rage as a non-addictive panacea for everything from arthritic aches and pains, insomnia, anxiety and migraines to epileptic seizures. CBD oil is said to give pain relief benefit without the high of marijuana. Manufacturers hope to profit from the intense public interest by adding the non-psychoactive CBD to salves, oils and edible products.

While a number of area growers are raising hemp acreage under contract for sale to outside extraction companies, one farmer, Martin McLeod, is making a value-added leap with his test crops — making extracts from high-CBD hemp grown right on his Carthage farm. 

“From seed to shelf,” says McLeod. He now produces “Farm Life Hemp,” branded CBD-infused products like salves and oils, right on the farm. “The ultimate value-added product.” 

CBD oil is a cannabis compound, but it does not contain the infamous THC, the psychoactive compound found in marijuana that gives users the “buzz,” or euphoric feeling. In fact, hemp grown for oil, food, fiber and feed must not exceed a trace (defined by law) of more than 0.3 percent of THC, the compound in the plant that gets a person stoned. In short, hemp products can’t get you high. Though legal in a number of states, high-THC products are illegal in North Carolina. 

Thanks to the 2018 Farm Bill, CBD oil is now legal in all 50 states. Proponents use it to treat glaucoma, epileptic seizures, arthritis, neurological disorders, PTSD, depression, pain and other ailments. The oil is reported to have anti-inflammatory, antioxidant and anti-nausea properties. CBD oil is sold in a number of locations locally, including McLeod Brothers’ farm store in Carthage.

The Farm Life Hemp products come in both tinctures and salves of various volumes. McLeod says his father uses it regularly: “My dad was at the point he could hardly walk due to rheumatoid arthritis, and he was on one of the strongest drugs for his condition. Now, since he’s been taking our CBD regularly, he’s off that medicine, 100 percent. He’s also got a lot more energy, more relaxed.”

Derived from industrial hemp, medicinal CBD oil is extracted from the flower bud of a high-CBD strain. McLeod’s process uses an alcohol extraction. The resulting oil is designed to be dropped under the tongue or, in some cases, rubbed directly on sore joints.  

Since ingesting CBD oil is a common way to administer it, the “edibles” industry has exploded, too — CBD-infused soft drinks, candies, gummies and chocolates are wildly popular, and growing in number — proving once again that a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.

For decades, federal law didn’t distinguish hemp from other cannabis plants. All were made illegal in 1937 under the Marihuana Tax Act (with a few wartime exceptions to grow hemp for rope) and formally made illegal in 1970 under the Controlled Substances Act. That changed last December, unleashing a rush of hemp activity.

So, could hemp replace tobacco in the Sandhills? Some think it has a shot. Others believe once the dust settles, it will be just another high-value, high-input crop — like tobacco.

Public awareness of the health-damaging properties of tobacco — a major cash crop for North Carolina for generations — has led to a decline in sales and prices. This is of deep concern for farmers trying to hang on to family farms.

“My main worry was how bad the tobacco industry is getting around here,” says McLeod. “Every year the contracts get cut more, and it gets harder to sell it, and then after all that expense and work, they maybe turn down a whole truckload because its a shade different color than they want it.”

McLeod began looking for other viable cash crops, and hemp snagged his interest. “I noticed that Canada had been growing hemp since the 1990s for grain, protein and fiber,” he says. “Researching more, I started reading about the CDB side of things, and how it helped people with pain, inflammation and other ailments. The medicinal part really caught my eye.”

In early 2017, McLeod was talking with his cousin, Dr. Sandy Stewart, a former N.C. Cooperative Extension crop specialist in tobacco, who now serves as assistant commissioner for the North Carolina Department of Agriculture. He’s also a member of the N.C. Industrial Hemp Commission responsible for implementing the state’s tightly regulated pilot program for hemp. McLeod decided to jump on the hemp bandwagon and grew several of the first test plots on the family’s Carthage farm.

“We got in on the ground floor,” he says.  “A lot of people talked about it like a joke, but I knew they were growing it in other countries throughout the world. Now every farmer is trying to get in on it.”

It was a good fit. The expensive infrastructure that farmers, like the McLeods, need to grow tobacco is very similar to what’s needed for hemp. “You need greenhouses, planters and forced-air dryers . . . both crops use the same. That’s why all these investors are coming here to speak to farmers about growing hemp. We have the forced air-drying barns for the harvest. That’s probably why North Carolina has five times the acreage planted this year as last year.”

Since that infrastructure is the lure to out-of-state and Canadian contractors, the atmosphere is giddy on both sides right now. “Everything is moving so fast in this industry, or rather, endeavor,” says Carter. “It’s like being in the eye of a hurricane. It’s hard to see the big picture for the debris.”

The switch to hemp is not without its problems. Last year McLeod had some vandalism when his hemp crop was mistaken for illegal marijuana.

And then there is the steep learning curve for a new, high-value crop. “Most of last year’s crop was harvested way too early because we were trying to get it in before the hurricanes,” says Carter. “It was a difficult year. Everyone was told hemp was pest free; that it requires very little fertilizer; and to not worry about foliar (leaf) diseases — and none of that was true.”

Next hurdle is acquiring plants. “The genetics of hemp are really fascinating,” says Carter. “The genetics aren’t stable yet. You want females for the flower bud, and they have to be under that 0.3 percent THC. That’s why last year’s crop was grown mostly from clones or cuttings, and that makes it a costly production system. Clones get around the (unproductive) male problem, and unstable genetics. But for the endeavor to progress, we have to get where we can grow it for seed.” 

The giddy “gold rush” mentality on both sides — grower and contractor — could lead to overproduction. “It is a new and exciting opportunity,” says Carter, “and North Carolina is well positioned. Nevertheless, all 50 states can grow hemp now. The scarcity can’t last. Economics will not allow a void like that for long. I see it as another crop that will eventually fit into the mix. There is real upside right now, but also real risk.” 

Though the gold rush is on, the result is not necessarily pure bank. “We have all the infrastructure and equipment in hand, but hemp is still a high risk crop,” agrees McLeod. “There is no federal crop insurance for it right now, so the risk is all on you. And it’s the highest cost per acre crop in North Carolina, except maybe strawberries, and nobody grows 100 acres of strawberries.”

And then there are other unknowns: contractors from out of the area seeking hemp growers. Will they keep their commitments?

“Unlike tobacco, where we knew the reputations of buyers, we’re dealing with new players who we don’t know,” says Carter. “We’re starting to know them, but we really don’t know yet who has money to pay for product. It’s a little bit of a Wild West situation right now. And, unlike tobacco, you’re not going to get your money immediately. There is all this testing for THC content, for heavy metals, for pesticides and more, since it’s a product that’s going to be consumed orally. It’s not fast money.” And sometimes, as with a hemp cooperative startup Carter is involved with, the processing companies will work on shares of the biomass produced, so besides the testing lag, there is also a marketing lag before the money comes through.

Carter spent $15-16,000 per acre last year to grow hemp. “The crop went in the ground last May, and we don’t expect to see a return until this April,” he says. “Farmers aren’t used to waiting a year for a check. When someone enters the game who can test more quickly, and get you paid more quickly, they are really going to get the attention.”

Priest also has concerns about hemp flooding the market.  And while 2020 will bring federal crop insurance for hemp, “the government can still come onto your farm and destroy the crop if it goes hot,” he says of the potential of it reverting to a higher THC content because of wind cross-pollination due to rogue plants. “How much do you trust your neighbors?” Besides the fall hurricane risk, Priest wonders if hemp is as susceptible to the heartbreak of damaging fall freezes as tobacco has been.

“High risk,” says McLeod, “but also the possibility of high reward.”

Part of that high reward is converting the bud crop to a value-added product: CBD oil. Last year, Martin and his brother Chris went out to Oregon to learn from a hemp farmer with an on-farm extraction process. They learned to harvest the high-CBD buds in September — by hand. The buds are then set out to dry in the family’s tobacco barns. Finally, the CBD and other cannabinoids are extracted from the dried buds with ethanol (alcohol) and infused into oils.

While CBD oil is now legal to sell, some states are cracking down on the edibles made from it.  CBD edibles are seen as great alternatives to THC-based edibles, because they can offer relaxation, anti-nausea effects and pain relief without the intense high that is often felt with smoking marijuana or eating THC-based food. 

The hemp shift was so swift, laws are still being ironed out in some states. In early February, two stores in Cincinnati, Ohio, were forced to remove CBD-infused edibles from their shelves after they received visits from the Cincinnati Health Department. The Ohio Board of Pharmacy says the state’s new medical marijuana program only allows dispensaries to sell CBD products, but storeowners argue CBD and marijuana are not the same. Maine and New York have had similar crackdowns, and other states may follow suit.

“The FDA is trying to regulate more when someone is trying to make a food,” says McLeod.

In addition, CBD-infused products vary widely in quality and strength. Of course, one could simply go basic and put a dropper-full under the tongue, swishing around the mouth before swallowing. The taste is slightly grassy and mild. 

But if the regulation of retail CBD products is still being sorted out and one wanted to try to see a benefit from CBD itself, an individual could make their own edibles, for personal consumption. It’s perfectly legal, devoid of psychoactive experience and one can “dial their own dose.” The internet abounds with recipes for CBD-infused chocolates, butters and ganaches. For example, melt your favorite chocolate, remove from heat and fill individual silicone molds halfway. Add a dropper-full of your favorite CBD oil, stir with a toothpick and fill the remainder of the mold. Chill. 

“I’ve tried a few drops but I can’t say it cured all that ailed me,” says Priest. “But my mom used some hemp oil lotion on her knees and her feet when a tick-related illness made her joints ache, and thought it helped.”  PS

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

The Kitchen Garden

Be It Ever So Humble

The onion is right at home

By Jan Leitschuh

Is there a savory recipe on the planet that doesn’t begin with “sauté an onion . . . ?” If there is, I don’t want it.

Despite their eye-watering chopped nature, onions add a depth of flavor unique to their savory selves. It’s a familiar friend in vegetable form. The aroma of onions frying in a pan just spells home cooking — unless you’re a Jain monk forswearing root vegetables, including onions.

And the humble onion is a virtual health food superstar. Surprised? Abundant in quercetin, this powerful antioxidant acts like an antihistamine and an anti-inflammatory agent. Our friends the onions are prebiotics, which make our immune-system-supporting gut biome happy. Quercetin also helps lower blood pressure in hypertensive adults. Organosulfur compounds released when we chop and dice help reduce cancer risk. What are a few tears among friends?

And the common onion is thought to exceed the heart-protective properties of red wine. So, it would seem that onions might be a useful thing to grow in the kitchen garden.

Fun fact: Plant now.

Indeed, those cute little bunching onions and scallions are easy to grow, pull, rinse and chop up. Great for adding to a morning omelet or a casserole.

But who wanted easy? I wanted big! I wanted to grow humongous sweet onion bulbs like my friend in Texas. I wanted gorgeous, flavorful flattened globes like the delicious ones from our Southern neighbors in Vidalia, Georgia.

And I was failing, year after year. Weeds, small scallion-sized bulbs, chewed tops — any number of issues.

Well, cry me a river. Time to research. I turned to a favorite source, Mr. Encyclopedia, Taylor Williams, Moore County’s horticultural guru at the North Carolina Cooperative Extension.

“You’ve got three types,” explained Williams. “You’ve got short-day, long-day and intermediate-day onions. Intermediate and short-day we can grow. Long-day — absolutely not. They won’t make a bulb.”

There’s a clue. Onion bulb production is related to the length of the day. To successfully grow bulbing onions, use short-day varieties that form bulbs with 10-12 hours of daylight. Intermediate, or day-neutral, onions form bulbs with just a little more sunshine, 12-14 hours of daylight. Both, says Williams, produce decent bulbs here.

“Imagine . . . a line between San Francisco and Washington, D.C., which separates the country into regions for the sake of onion production and day length,” explained a Cooperative Extension pamphlet. “South of the line, you will want to grow short-day or day-neutral (sometimes called intermediate) varieties of onions for large bulb production. Short-day onions need a mild winter like we have in our U.S. Hardiness Zone 7 conditions.”

So, no more buying the little brown bulbs in packets from the home improvement store, as I did way back in my Wisconsin youth. Those are long-day onions, better suited for more northerly climes, says Williams.

“The size of the onion bulb is dependent upon the number and size of the green leaves or tops at the time of bulbing,” says Dixondale Farms, a specialty onion plant grower in Texas (“We know onions!”). “The triggering of this transfer, or bulbing, is dependent upon day-length and temperature and not the size or age of the plants.”

“Get the bundles of little plants with the green tops attached, 50-75 per bunch. Texas Granex 1015Y, or Texas Supersweet, will do well here,” says Williams. “For red onions, Red Creole and Red Candy Apple will work. They just don’t get as big.”

Georgia Sweet, Sweet Red, Texas Sweet White, Texas Early Grano and Texas Grano are similar varieties mentioned as doing well throughout the South. One other caution from Williams: “Don’t buy plants that have pink roots. There is a (fungal) disease called pink root, so avoid that.”

Once the proper varieties are located, I turn my attention to soil. After years of loving attention and compost, my soils are good and pH-balanced, with proper amounts of lime. But for onions, yearly applications of further rich compost is beneficial, especially in the hot Sandhills, where organic matter burns up quickly.

“Onions have a very small root system,” says Williams. “That means all the goodies, nutrients and water, must be nearby, or below the roots. So that means organic matter.”

Sulfur is also important for onions, says Taylor, usually supplied by organic matter. Sul-Po-Mag, a common and popular Sandhills soil enricher made from a naturally occurring mineral, also gently supplies sulfur.

One mineral that may be missing for premium onion growth? Boron. The solution is simple, and quite minimal, since the margin for boron is slim — too much can be toxic to peas, lettuce and most vine crops. “Some plants are sensitive to boron,” says Williams. “Just add a pinch of 20 Mule Team Borax in a gallon of water in your watering can. You don’t need much. Use care, it’s very easy to overdo.”

Once the soil is ready, plant now. “Ideally, you’d plant on either side of March 1,” says Williams. “You want the longest opportunity for the tops to grow. Once an onion hits its daylight requirement, it will grow its bulb, and you need leaves to do that.”

Remember that the farther north you are, the more hours of daylight you have during the summer (Alaska, Land of the Midnight Sun, anyone?); the farther south, the fewer the hours of summer sunlight. So getting an early start is another key to bigger bulbs. Bulbs take about 110 days to mature, so March onions get the maximum growing light before the summer solstice in June.

And don’t worry about planting early and getting a cold snap, says Williams: “I’ve never killed an onion due to cold.”

One might think: If I plant 75 little plants, that’s a lot of onions. No worries. After the tops start growing, harvest/sacrifice a few daily, as scallions and then later green onions. The young onions are delicious in salads, omelets, as garnish, in casseroles. Bulbs grown for scallions or green onions can be planted 1-2 inches deep and 1-2 inches apart in rows that are 18-inches or more apart. Bulbs grown for traditional onions are planted the same depth, but 5-6 inches apart in rows that are 1-2 feet apart.

Strong and vigorous onion tops are vital to size and flavor, since the green leaves manufacture the sugars that plump out the bulbs. “For each leaf, there will be a ring of onion,” says Dixondale’s website. “The larger the leaf, the larger the ring will be when the carbohydrates from the leaves are transferred to the rings of the bulb.”

How do you grow leaves? “Once you’ve got two or three leaves on it, you need nitrogen,” says Williams. “Use fish emulsion, blood meal, just tank ’em up. You’re eating the vegetative part of the plant, so nitrogen is what you need.” He suggests mixing a cup of an organic nitrogen source in a watering can, “ . . . and just baptize them. Do it weekly for best growth.”

Remember those short roots? “Don’t let onions stress in water or nitrogen,” says Williams. “Just be sure to start with plenty of compost, since our soils don’t hold water or fertilizer. Add on a few inches.”

Farmers growing field crops plant their onions through black plastic, with a drip tape beneath. No drip tape? “Mulch,” says Taylor. “Onions do not suppress weeds.” If you don’t plant through some sort of barrier (including newspaper or brown butcher paper), be prepared to weed like a fiend, especially after a rain.

And those chewed tops? “Thrips,” says Williams. “It will look like speckles on your tops. Neem oil is the material of choice as soon as you start to see decent-sized leaves. Starting early to mid-April, hit them several times a month. That ought to keep them off.”

Sometime in mid-to-late June, the onion tops will begin flopping down. Now is the time to pull and dry your onions for storage. “Just take care not to bruise the necks, as that damage will shorten your storage life,” says Williams.

Oh, and those burning tears we get from chopping onions? There is a solution. It’s all about chemistry. Onions contain aromatic chemicals called sulfoxides. Cut into them, damage the cell walls, and release the chemicals that convert to noxious, annoying, eye-watering gases. But peeling and sticking an onion in the freezer for 20-to-30 minutes before chopping really helps, by slowing down the chemical conversion. Others swear by holding a piece of bread in the mouth, but I suspect the spongy texture just blocks the gasses from the eyes.

Armed with new wisdom, this year will be my year for onions. Cue the (happy) tears of a clown.  PS

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

The Kitchen Garden

Lion’s Share

A touch of fungus for the brain

By Jan Leitschuh

What if there was a mushroom that might repair our aging brains? What if this mushroom tasted a little like lobster, was quite hard to find in grocery stores yet crazy-easy to grow?

Lion’s mane mushroom, Hericium erinaceus, is a goofy, scruffy, spongy, snowball-shaped fungus one wouldn’t immediately identify as an edible mushroom. Lacking the typical stem and cap, the soft white spines emerge from a meaty white core like a lion’s mane. Funny-looking or not, it has been used for millennia in Asia, and is still deeply revered there as a medicinal food that brings vigor to the aging, aids cognition and fights cancer.

It is rare to find fresh lion’s mane mushroom in grocery stores. Sometimes, Asian markets will offer them, or a large farmers market. One can buy powdered extracts online, but for fresh, your best bet is to grow your own. I got my kit locally, from Carolina Mushroom Growers (CMG) of Willow Springs. The former hog farm now markets fresh ’shrooms to area restaurants, and sells quarts of fresh mushrooms and pre-made kits every weekend at the North Carolina State Farmers Market in Raleigh.

Lion’s mane mushroom “is what I like to call a ‘hairy mozzarella,’” says grower Shahane Taylor, 34, of CMG. 

Though odd in appearance, lion’s mane is both eminently edible and beneficial for our bodies. It’s one of the easiest mushrooms to raise from a kit, and homegrown mushrooms are especially helpful for engaging children, for kitchen gourmets or for those without much land for growing who still enjoy playing with edible Mother Nature.

With the outdoor growing season at least a month or two off, a spring-hungry kitchen gardener might choose to order a kit and raise up a few pounds of these otherwise expensive fungi, also called hedgehog or pompom mushrooms. To avoid getting too deep into the weeds of growing edible mushrooms, beginners will probably have their best luck via a pasteurized and pre-colonized bag of hardwood chips and white, fungal mycelium. 

Your bag will have a slit or three. Many slits mean smaller ’shrooms, so stay under three. Good light is essential to a plentiful crop. The bags need brightness to fruit, so if not a sunny window, bright lights will do. Adequate humidity will also contribute to success.

Simply follow the directions, wait a few weeks, and harvest large, fresh, white, brain-like softballs of gourmet mushrooms. Get out the butter and pan-fry. Then, do it again, getting a second “flush” from the same kit.

You may have observed the characteristic lion’s mane, native to North America, tendrils or soft spines on a hike. Lion’s mane enjoys decaying hardwoods as a substrate. “This fungi is king of the forest,” says Taylor. “So when you encounter one just know you’re in the presence of royalty.”

I have seen these funny fungi growing on hardwood logs in damp mountain areas in Western North Carolina and, intrigued, recently decided to try a growing kit myself (not trusting my wild-mushroom identification powers enough to wager my liver on it).

The curious health benefit? Lion’s mane mushrooms contain bioactive substances that have beneficial effects on the body, especially the brain, heart and gut. The mushroom is being studied in connection with Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s diseases.

“Did I mention it’s also a nootropic?” says Taylor. Nootropic: a substance said to increase cognitive abilities. Mmmm, let’s have us some of that.

Typically, the brain’s ability to grow and form new connections declines with age. Yet studies have found that lion’s mane mushrooms, a traditional Chinese medicine stalwart, contain two special compounds that can stimulate the growth of brain cells: hericenones and erinacines, terms derived from the mushroom’s Latin name. Who couldn’t use a few more brain cells, especially after a misspent youth? Asking for a friend . . .

A 2012 study in Malaysia suggested that consuming lion’s mane mushrooms could assist in the regeneration of nerve cells from peripheral nerve injury, and from some types of brain and spinal cord injuries, by stimulating the growth and repair of nerve cells. 

Lion’s mane extract may also help reduce the severity of brain damage after a stroke. In one study, high doses of lion’s mane mushroom extract given to rats immediately after a stroke helped decrease inflammation and reduce the size of stroke-related brain injury by 44 percent.

Other animal studies found that lion’s mane improved the functioning of the hippocampus, a region of the brain responsible for processing memories and emotional responses. Researchers suspect that improved functioning of the hippocampus explained the interesting reductions in anxious and depressive behaviors in mice given these extracts.

A study in older adults with mild cognitive impairment found that consuming three grams of powdered lion’s mane mushroom daily for four months significantly improved mental functioning, However, they say these benefits disappeared when supplementation stopped.

Another study in Japan, using men aged 50-80 years old with mild cognitive impairment, also suggested that lion’s mane is effective at improving cognition. Subjects were split into two groups and half were given dry powdered lion’s mane three times a day and observed over 16 weeks. At weeks eight, 12 and 16, the group taking lion’s mane scored significantly better on a cognitive test than the half in the placebo group

Additionally, animal studies have found that lion’s mane may help the brain protect itself against Alzheimer’s disease. Besides reducing symptoms of memory loss in mice, lion’s mane mushroom and its extracts have also been shown to prevent neuronal damage caused by amyloid-beta plaques, which accumulate in the brain during Alzheimer’s disease.

This is your mouse’s brain on lion’s mane. Any questions?

While it appears to boost mental function in humans too (judging by Amazon reviews for online powdered products), no human studies have yet examined the benefits in battling Alzheimer’s disease. But it’s a simple food, and according to a host of research, lion’s mane has been found to slow the progression, or even reverse the spread, of a variety of cancers, such as gastric, lung, leukemia, breast and colon cancers.

And, as part of its powerful anti-inflammatory nature, lion’s mane may improve our heart health and digestive system, lowering triglycerides and shrinking gastric ulcers. These fluffy ’shrooms also boost the immune system, lower blood sugar, reduce anxiety and contain powerful free-radical-fighting antioxidants that help protect our liver and skin.

And it tastes good too?

Thanks to its solid consistency when sliced and subtle maritime flavor, lion’s mane can be used as a seafood substitute in recipes. Slice the fungal “brain” into rounds and pan-fry it in olive oil or butter, or try ripping it up and making “Lion’s Mane Cakes” by following your favorite crab cake recipe — using the lion’s mane as a substitute for the crabmeat. Your favorite vegan will thank you.

Many say this mushroom pairs well with brown rice, lentils or quinoa, especially with a few flavorful veggies such as onions, garlic, ginger and fresh bell pepper — or any vegetable you think might pair well with shrimp or crab — for seasoning. The flavor is mild, and will pick up the flavors of its companions.

To harvest, slice or twist a softball-sized “brain” off the grow bag. It will keep a day or two in a fridge crisper in a paper bag, but no longer. Best to cook and freeze, if you can’t eat your harvest all at once.

Slice this monster mushroom into half-inch “steaks,” as the interior is solid and meaty. Excess water may ruin your intended dish, since this mushroom can be water-filled under some conditions. So, using a dry pan, cook the steaks for 3-5 minutes a side to drive out excess moisture. Add butter to the pan and finish cooking them until golden brown. 

For information on local lion’s mane (and other) mushroom-growing kits, contact Carolina Mushroom Farm at  (919) 593-2164.  PS

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

The Kitchen Garden

Black Drink

Carolina Tea — the only caffeine native to the U.S.

By Jan Leitschuh

What better way to take the winter chill off than a nice cup of tea, and a dollop of history? Say, an energizing “black drink” from the Outer Banks — sourced from a common shrub you might even have in your own backyard.

Mmmmm, pour us a drink, Luv.

And if you knew that this shrub’s Latin name was Ilex vomitoria — yes, you read that right, vomitoria — and that a tea from its leaves was used as a purge and emetic by Native American tribes . . . well, would you still be savoring that cuppa?

No worries, duckie. It’s simply bad press for an otherwise lovely dish of tea.

The yaupon holly, or Ilex vomitoria, is common throughout the Carolinas and has a solid and ancient history as a tea source fully grounded in the New World. A wild, perennial evergreen shrub, yaupon holly (pronounced YO-pon) is the only plant native to North America known to contain caffeine. The dried and roasted leaves of the yaupon are the source of North America’s only homegrown caffeinated beverage — yaupon tea. Historians tell us that yaupon leaves were used for centuries as a ceremonial tea by many native North American tribes. 

Later, European settlers tumbled to the benefits of the energizing beverage they called “black drink.” Yaupon tea was quite well known and widely enjoyed during the Colonial period. Take that, British East India Company and your Asian tea; into Boston Harbor with ye!

The tough little yaupon holly ranges across the Southeastern United States, from Virginia to Florida and west to Texas, but is numerous in the Carolinas. 

The Native Americans used it in purification rituals involving purging (thus, its Latin vomitoria). Lovely, right? But the Latin name is actually a misnomer, because yaupon is not an emetic, just guilty by ceremonial association. According to Charles Hudson, in his introduction to the book Black Drink: A Native American Tea, the scientific name derives from yaupon’s association with those purification ceremonies that entailed ritualistic vomiting, usually after adding seawater or other nausea-producing substances to the drink. But the tea of yaupon itself, as typically consumed, does not cause vomiting.

“Yaupon tea’s market was done great damage in the late 1700s by William Aiton, a Scottish botanist I believe was secretly in the employ of Ceylon tea merchants,” says Florida writer Francis E. “Jack” Putz. “In recognition of the use of an especially strong brew of yaupon in an Amerindian ritual that included ceremonial vomiting, Aiton named the plant Ilex vomitoria. Clearly this fascination says more about the early chroniclers of American life than about the qualities of the beverage.”

Wryly, Putz continues: “Researchers have revealed no emetic compounds in yaupon tea; it simply does not induce vomiting. That said, there were indeed special occasions when Timucuan and later Seminole warriors stood around vomiting after drinking large quantities of yaupon, but that was only after fasting for days and then singing, dancing, and generally carrying on all night; Kool-Aid would have had the same effect.”

Yaupon tea was actually a desirable prehistoric commodity, being exchanged at least as far west as Illinois. According to one source, over 1,000 years ago Native American traders dried, packed and shipped the leaves all the way to Cahokia, the ancient mound city near the confluence of the Missouri and Mississippi rivers by modern day St. Louis.

“It strengthens and nourishes the body, and yet does not fly to the head,” marveled French artist and North Florida explorer Jacques le Moyne de Morgues in 1564, after the native Timucua tribe offered the Frenchmen shells of the “black drink.” Thus was European teatime born in the New World. A Spanish priest in Florida reported in 1615, “There is no Spaniard or Indian who does not drink it in the morning or evening.” In 1791, famed Philadelphia botanist William Bartram noted in his writings that the Cherokee of Western North Carolina had obtained yaupon and it was under active pruning and cultivation. The Cherokee, he said, called yaupon “the beloved tree.”

Early settlers later enjoyed the black drink so much they traded it as a commodity to other countries. Not only was yaupon tea consumed regularly, especially throughout the Southeast, it was exported by ship to Europe, to be marketed as cassina in England and Appalachina in France. It was also traded from the Colonies under the moniker “Carolina Tea.” Apothecary shops dispensed it as a treatment for smallpox and kidney stones. English settlers of Carolina were said to drink the “Indian Tea” daily.

Later, during the Civil War, N.C. barrier islanders supplied the caffeinated leaves to cities blocked from importing tea and coffee. During the Great Depression and World War II, U.S. consumption once again spiked as tea and coffee became difficult to obtain. Folks needed their morning buzz! The drinking of yaupon tea persisted on the Outer Banks until the ’70s, and then lingered in island cafes. Ocracoke Island was the last known location to have served yaupon tea until recently.

While it once competed with Asian tea for a global market share, the antioxidant-rich yaupon tea dropped off the map for a while. The classic Chinese tea Camellia sinensis, was too entrenched, and some speculate that yaupon tea was later associated with the rural Southern poor at a time when coffee’s popularity was rising. Yet recent taste tests conducted at the University of Florida revealed an overwhelming preference for yaupon over its commercially available South American sister species, “yerba mate” — making it perfect for elevenses.

“Unfortunately,” writes Putz, “yaupon’s commercial potential was destroyed simply by the revelation of its scientific name.”

While many people today are still unaware of yaupon tea, it is experiencing a comeback, riding on the back of the farm-to-table movement for local foods, nostalgia and increased knowledge of its various medicinal benefits.

There is no need to import our teas from exotic continents, say fans of the yaupon.

“Our native yaupon is a delicious and healthy tea,” says Jan Mann Jackson of Jackson Farms. With her husband, Tom, the pair began cultivating the native tea on their 200-year-old traditional family farm on the other side of Fayetteville, in northern Sampson County. Although the Jacksons were among the first few farmers certified as “organic” many years ago, in recent years they discontinued the cost and paperwork of certification. “Although we have not changed our way of growing food,” says Jackson.

They acquired some yaupon holly from a yard in Morehead City to see if they could grow it on the farm for their use. “It grew well here,” says Jackson. They roasted the young leaves in the spring for themselves. Roasting makes the caffeine more soluble. Coffee beans are roasted for the same reason. The Jacksons found the tea quite delicious — no vomiting.

After perfecting their roasting methods, Jackson Farms began selling the tea leaves to restaurants and specialty shops about 10 years ago. Recently, they created a website — JacksonFarm.com — to sell their historic tea to the public. 

Their beautifully packaged processed tea retails for $10 per ounce, “which will make a lot of tea,” says Jackson. “We also stock it with other teas in our farm’s guesthouse.”

A strong Carolina connection to yaupon tea exists, as the beverage was enjoyed here through Colonial times and persisted quite a while on the relatively isolated (and yaupon-filled) Outer Banks. “I first drank yaupon tea in a restaurant on Ocracoke Island in about 1957,” says Jackson. “Then I ran into a mention of it in John Lawson’s A New Voyage to Carolina. It interested me, and I eventually ran into the book Black Drink, by Charles M. Hudson, and learned a good deal more.”

Yaupon tea is an infusion tea made from steeping the dried and roasted yaupon leaves. Yaupon’s caffeine content is said to be more than black tea but less than coffee, and is closely related to yerba mate tea, which shares some of the same active ingredients and nutrients. Some say yaupon has a similar flavor profile to green tea; others say it tastes more like a black tea. The smell is earthy, and the health benefits numerous.

Yaupon is anti-inflammatory, helping reduce the pain of arthritis and other inflammatory conditions, improves dental health and digestive issues, and has shown promise as a preventive of colon cancer. Yaupon, a diuretic like coffee and tea, is rich in the desirable antioxidants known as polyphenols, comparable to other so-called “superfoods” like red wine, dark chocolate, broccoli, blueberries and green tea. These polyphenols stimulate the immune system. Theobromine, also found in yaupon, has been shown to lower blood pressure. 

Aficionados say yaupon yields a jitter-free, energizing brew. Caffeine levels in yaupon vary, but are roughly comparable to green or black tea, so excess consumption would certainly lead to the jitters, just as it would with coffee. Depending on the strength brewed, the flavor can be anything from light, caramelly and buttery to intensely rich, complex, nutty and smoky, say fans. Yaupon is virtually free of tannins, so you can steep longer to bring out more flavor without risking the bitterness of regular tea. Perhaps the long steeping explains the name “black drink,” because a shorter steep yields a grassy, lighter tea.

In strong brews the slight bitterness of theobromine, coveted by lovers of dark chocolate, can be tasted. Theobromine (from Greek “food of the gods”) is the pleasure molecule of chocolate — the buzzy one that increases feelings of well-being, contentment and focus (and is also toxic to dogs).

The “black drink” can be enjoyed hot or iced, whatever your pleasure. By all means, support our local farmers and give this native tea a try, or ask for it at your local farm-to-table restaurant. And if you like it, you can try to make some at home, and beat January back with a steaming North American cuppa and a buttered scone. No need to raise your pinkie whilst sipping either, ducks.

“Backyard” Yaupon Tea

Know your plants, first of all. Be sure you know your yaupon. Collect fresh leaves, the newer growth if possible. Some say the females (the ones that produce the berries) make the best tea, but science has been unable to determine any chemical difference. Heat them (roast) in the oven at 300 degrees until they start to brown, about 7 or 8 minutes. Others simply blanch the leaves black in a skillet. Remove and add a tablespoon of crumbled leaves to your pot, and pour over two or three cups of hot (just-boiled) water. Steep for a few minutes, depending on strength preferred. Sweeten to taste.  PS

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

The Kitchen Garden

That Old Chestnut

Making a comeback in the skillet

By Jan Leitschuh

Hot, roasted chestnuts have probably not been part of your holiday treat repertoire, despite the ubiquitous Christmas reminder in song. I would have been the same, except I first tasted chestnuts in Wisconsin, as my mother, a nostalgic World War II bride, roasted some for us kids in our living room fireplace. This was a time (cough) before gas logs.

The nuts were tasty, sweet and surprisingly soft, like a baked potato, very good with salt and the heat of the fire warming our faces. But chestnuts are neither a common nor everyday produce item, so the cold-weather treat drifted to the back burner.

The idea of chestnuts resurfaced again when our local Sandhills Farm to Table Co-op attended the international Slow Food Festival “Terre Madre” in Torino, Italy, in the fall of 2010. There we saw pushcart vendors roasting chestnuts on the streets, dumping the hot nuts into paper funnels for munching on the go or on the nearest park bench. Chestnut flour-based pastries and candied marron glacés graced bakery shop windows. Cafés featured a hot bowl of zuppa di castagne, sometimes with a grappa kicker. Late October was the season of the chestnut harvest.

As our bus drove us through the Italian countryside to our lodgings an hour south, neat farms began to sport tidy little groves of trees. Over 90 percent of Italy’s chestnuts are produced in Tuscany, and this little northern countryside had some lovely examples.

Edible chestnuts grow worldwide, including in North Carolina’s Piedmont and Sandhills regions. My first exposure to Tar Heel chestnuts came when the late environmentally active couple, Joyce and Len Tufts, gifted a generous bounty of homegrown Chinese chestnuts for Sandhills Farm to Table box subscribers. The nuts were as good as I remembered. I used them in a chestnut-sage stuffing.

This fall, local resident Ellen Marcus brought chestnuts back onto my radar. She and her family recently moved onto a property with four well-established chestnut trees bordering their front yard. It was a love-hate relationship from the start.

“The trees are perfectly climbable, picnic-worthy on a nice carpet of lush centipede grass, rich green foliage giving way to gold in autumn,” she says. “The tree’s beauty is mesmerizing and inviting.” Sounds heavenly, except for one factor Marcus hadn’t counted on: the spiny husks of the nuts that tumble each fall.

“The sharp chestnut spines can pierce soft-soled shoes,” she said. “ I can’t imagine why anyone would plant a chestnut in the front yard. The husks are mean and unforgiving, making the work of getting at the sweet meat all the more rewarding.”

And it is work. “The nuts have to be collected before the worms drill in,” she says. “They have to be refrigerated for storage. The nuts have to be scored and roasted to get them to peel easily. It almost gets to the point where you want to say, ‘Forget it, get an ax!’”

But then she relents. “The tree is reminiscent of the native chinquapin I grew up with as a kid. Chestnuts are so versatile, and make delicious cream soups, great flour, crispy toppings, and meaty stuffings.”

Chestnuts were much loved in ancient times. In fact, the Greeks and Romans used to transport an incredible amount of chestnuts in the stowage areas of ships to sell later. Before the chestnut blight in the early 20th century, the stunning American chestnut tree dominated forests of the eastern United States, blanketing the Appalachian mountains with their blossoms in the spring.

Known as the “Redwood of the East,” the American tree often reached towering heights of 150 feet. Experts estimate that at one time, one in every four hardwood trees in the East was an American chestnut. An important food source for natives, pioneers and wildlife, the American chestnut is making a small but determined comeback thanks to backcrossing efforts to introduce blight resistance.

According to the website “The Art of Manliness,” (cough, cough), one roasts chestnuts over an open fire, just as the song suggests. “Yes, you can roast chestnuts in the oven. But what would be the fun in that? A man never misses a chance to build a fire and cook over it,” the website suggests.

Instructions as follows:

To roast your chestnuts, you’ll need a pan that you can put into the fire. Long-handled popcorn or chestnut roasters make the ideal vessels for open fire chestnut roasting, as they allow you to roast the nuts without burning your face off. And their lids let you shake the chestnuts around for even roasting, instead of having to turn them over yourself or losing a few when flipping them in a lid-less pan.

If you don’t have a long-handled roaster, you can get by with a 12-inch cast-iron skillet or some other pan. Just be careful not to burn yourself. If you have an old beat-up skillet, you can turn it into a bona fide chestnut roaster by drilling 30 or so holes in the bottom.

If you don’t have a chestnut roaster or a skillet, you can also use a fireplace shovel. And I suppose you could even try sticking them individually on skewers . . . if you’re the patient type.

You can buy chestnuts at some grocery stores, but you may want to call ahead to make sure they have them. While dozens of chestnut varieties exist, most people roast Castagne and Marroni chestnuts at the holidays. Castagne are more common, while the Marroni are a more expensive specialty. The nut of the Marroni is sweeter and plumper, and it peels away from the skin more easily.

When choosing your chestnuts, look for those that are plump, smooth, shiny, and blemish-free. Moldy chestnuts are a common problem, so squeeze and shake the chestnut to see if the nut has shriveled up and pulled away from the shell.

Keep in mind that the larger the chestnut, the longer it will take to roast. Pick chestnuts that are fairly uniform in size and will thus be done at the same time.

Chestnuts are traditionally scored, their brown skin sliced to allow steam to escape when roasted. Simply take a sharp knife and cut an “X” into the flat side of each chestnut. Once your chestnuts are clean, dry and scored, roast over a nice bed of hot embers, shaking the pan to prevent burning. The brown exterior is peeled off after roasting and the hot nuts dipped in salt.

Chestnut trees prefer good drainage — avoid standing water and low-lying areas. To produce fruit, trees will also need lots of sunlight and plenty of regular watering to become established. Fall and winter are great times to add a couple of chestnut trees to your property, for wildlife and personal consumption. Revival, Carolina and Willamette are three suggested varieties that do well in North Carolina. All require pollination from another variety.

Plant at least two cultivars of the same type to ensure optimal size and production, and probably best away from where children and dogs might play, given the spiny husks. Most Chinese and hybrid chestnuts are highly resistant to the chestnut blight fungus. Many people prefer the hybrid chestnut cultivars, citing superior quality over the straight Chinese cultivars. Management is low.

If you are lucky enough to have your own chestnut tree, sort nuts for mold. Either use fresh nuts immediately or store unpeeled chestnuts in the refrigerator. To keep your chestnuts in good shape for a little longer, place them in a plastic bag and stick a few holes in the bag for airflow. Chestnuts should then keep for two or three weeks. Place them in the fridge’s crisper or vegetable storage bin.

Store freshly purchased or picked, unpeeled chestnuts at room temperature for up to one week only. Keep them in a well-ventilated and dry place.

In case you want to go beyond roasted chestnuts this holiday season, just add chocolate:

Chestnut-Chocolate Pudding

1 1/4 pound chestnuts

5 ounces dark chocolate, chopped

4 ounces butter

4 ounces sugar

Salt

Cook the chestnuts in salted water, peel and then process or sieve them. Melt the chocolate and add to the still warm chestnuts together with the sugar and butter.

Stir for some time. Line a rectangular mold with greaseproof paper and grease with butter, lay in the mixture, level off and cover with more greaseproof paper.

Leave in the fridge for at least 4 hours. Serve with cream on the side.  PS

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

The Kitchen Garden

Soul Food

The greens that bring good luck

By Jan Leitschuh

What would November in the South be without collards?

This cold-hardy green epitomizes the first nip of the Southern winter, when a killing frost only sweetens the leathery leaves of this open-crowned crop. Frost eggs it on rather than knocking it back. It’s the ultimate winter side dish, and can be expected to grace many a Southern Thanksgiving table. The dark, leafy greens are also included in the traditional New Year’s meal in many areas of the South. “Hoppin’ John” made of black-eyed peas, smoked pork and collards is said to bring luck in the coming year.

The collard harvest begins here in fall, and forges bravely into sure-enough winter, often providing hearty nutrition well into January, or even beyond, in a mild winter. Let’s see wimpy lettuce try that. Long after the bibb and the romaine have mushed up in the face of a light November frost, collards will shake it off with a chuckle and carry on growing new leaves.

In our garden, collards are a winter star. What else grows and produces in winter? The loose heads appear to freeze solid when nights get down into the teens. Yet, when the sun warms the broad, dark leaves, they crisp back up and return from their cryotherapy as if nothing has interrupted their happy life — including the pesky gardener who insists on collecting their maturing lower leaves.

Collards were a discovery vegetable for this Midwestern transplant. At first, their toughness and bitterness put me off. And that thick, stake-like midrib — what did one do with that?

It wasn’t until a Tar Heel friend served me collards the Southern way, the toughness simmered slowly into submission, the bitterness tempered with smoked ham hock, that I “got” collards. And once I learned to strip the leaves of their midrib, toss it away, then chop the tough, dark leaves finely, I could even sauté collards for a quick veggie side.

We here in the Sandhills can plant two crops of collards, one in the spring and again in the fall. Fall is favored, as some of that natural bitterness is moderated by frost. As the temperatures warm up in May, collard greens tend to bolt with the heat and lengthening days. Bolting is when the plant switches from growing leaves to putting out flowers to make seeds.

Some gardeners farther north say that if you just snap off the flowers every time you see them, you’ll have plenty of greens from March through December, without replanting. I’ve never tried that, and suspect our Sandhills heat and bug pressure might make the extra watering not worth the effort.

Besides, I like to let the cheery yellow flowers stay. The pollinators absolutely love the little four-petaled blossoms. When was the last time you made a pollinator ecstatic? And the blossoming yellow stalks look lovely in the garden.

A relative of kale, cabbage, broccoli, radish, cauliflower and Brussels sprouts, this tough green grows in a very loose cluster like a cabbage, but doesn’t make a head. I usually plant in September, when the seedlings appear in stores, but have planted as late as early November with a little success. (If you set them in that late, a little supplemental nitrogen may be necessary to help spur growth in colder temps).

Collards love full sun and a fertile soil — the faster they grow, the more tender the leaves. They are heavy feeders, so be generous with the compost early on. Nitrogenous sources — blood meal, cottonseed meal, or composted manure worked into the ground — will help leaves pop.

The rich soil should also be well limed. This prevents some root diseases, and also provides us humans with a wonderful natural source of calcium as we eat the collards. In fact, an old-timey neighbor with chickens once confided she would grow collards if only to feed her chickens. The calcium strengthened the shells “and set them afire to laying.”

Besides calcium, collards pack a true nutritional punch — vitamins C, A and K, as well as manganese, folic acid and lots of fiber. Smaller leaves can be eaten raw but have a stronger flavor. I’ve heard it said that during the Depression, many rural poor in the South retained their health due to the sweet potatoes and collards grown here. Collards nourish the body as well as the soul.

After about a month of solid growth, you can start harvesting some lower leaves. The stalk continues to grow upward, producing new leaves. A little periodic supplemental fertilizing may be needed to push things along after harvest.

Cut off a few 10-inch leaves for dinner, and take them inside to rinse. That good, Sandhills soil will likely be clinging to the underside. The simplest method is to simply put them in the sink, plug with a stopper, run some water and plunge, plunge, plunge. Drain, and prepare.

As for cooking, being a Midwestern transplant, I’m not about to, as the saying goes, teach my grandmother how to suck eggs. I’ll leave the Southern preparation tips to those raised on the traditional dishes, and they are delicious — truly soul food.

But, I will add my fusion twist, since I discovered collards have an affinity for ginger, and even pepper flakes. Or, if it’s still early enough, I’ll add oregano from the garden if I can still find a scraggly handful. If you don’t care for ginger, oregano or pepper, experiment on your own.

Simple Braised Collards
(Ginger Optional)

Rinse collards in water and drain. Remove stems and midribs from collards; toss the ribs and chop leaves into 1-inch or smaller pieces. Heat oil in a large pot or skillet, medium heat. Add some chopped onion, garlic, and perhaps ginger, if that appeals. Cook over medium-low heat until translucent and golden, about 5 minutes. Add collards to the skillet. Cover and cook, stirring occasionally, until tender, about 15 minutes, adding up to 1/2 cup water, if necessary. When collards are tender, pour off any excess liquid and cook a minute or two, until the pan is almost dry. Stir in salt and pepper to taste, perhaps a little allspice or hot pepper flakes, if desired, and vinegar. (If using oregano, try lemon juice.) Serve and give thanks for this nutritious winter superstar. PS

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

The Kitchen Garden

Indian Corn

More than just an autumn decoration

By Jan Leitschuh

Frost on the pumpkin? Maybe in a few weeks. Maybe.

Collards? Next month they will be sweeter.

Fall decor? Check. Change of seasons? Yes, please!

After surviving the sultry swelter that is a Sandhills summer, we can get giddy with the first bite of crispness in the air. It might be but a faint promise — just a mere coolness at night and a whole lot of dew in the morning — that drives us to decorate our households and doorsteps with the earthy items of fall in anticipation of cooler weather. We love our orange, white and blue pumpkins, rainbow assortments of mums, gourds, leaves, hay bales — and colorful Indian corn, America’s native grain.

You can see Indian corn gracing Sandhills doors and tables, with an autumnal color display to excite heat-dulled senses. It’s a fall decoration that can take us from mid-September through Halloween, then right into the harvest cornucopias of Thanksgiving. The lovely October palette of rusts, purples, golds, reds, steely blues, pinks and browns in nature finds an echo in Indian corn.

It’s not hard to grow, if you are so inclined. If not, grocery stores, Co-op boxes and farmers markets also offer a selection of parti-colored ears with wonderful names like Painted Mountain, Indian Fingers, Calico and Bloody Butcher.

There are many colors and kinds of Indian corn. We are familiar, of course, with modern sweet corn with yellow or white kernels. The sweet corn we devour in summer is wholly different from Indian corn. We took the hard, dry native strains and over time, selectively bred for a tender, modern, juicy ear with an abundance of natural sugars. Sweet corn is also harvested at a juicy point in its life, called the “milk” stage.

Unlike sweet corn, Indian corn, or “flint” corn, has a low water content that, when dried, makes it easy to preserve and store — and display. Some ears of Indian corn are pastel multi-colored, or yellow and rust-red, or grey, white and gold.  Other types are one solid color like a deep mahogany or an eye-catching grey-blue.

The common treatment is to shuck three to five ears to expose the colored kernels, then bind together with wire to make a door hanging. A bright fall-colored bow tops off the display. Others affix their ears to a fall wreath. One can actually make an eye-catching wreath of the cobs, attaching them to a wire frame with the shucks aimed outward in a papery flair. Google “Indian Corn Wreath DIY.” Another wreath alternates 10 ears with the shucks. I’ve also seen baskets of cobs mixed in with gourds and miniature pumpkins as table decorations, or cobs used in florist displays.

The kernel colors are based on genetics. Like puppies, each kernel can have a different “father.”

A single grain of pollen from the tassels at the top of the corn stalk drops onto a “silk,” an elongated stigma on the cob. Many tassels in a field, and many silks, contribute to the genetics of a kernel. Indian corn has widely varied genetics for color, so the eye-catching, multi-colored cobs can result.

As a species, corn — or maize, Zea mays — was domesticated by the indigenous peoples of Mesoamerica, then grown for thousands of years. The plants adapted to unique local conditions, spreading widely throughout the Americas and were often traded. When early explorers carried this new grain back to Europe, it spread rapidly there, too, as a new cereal grain that could thrive in varied climates.

There are many types of what we call Indian corn. The colors and genetics are as diverse as the tribes that grew and saved the seeds. These so-called “land races” are important reservoirs now for unique genetic material for future plant breeding, a veritable gene bank of potentially useful traits. 

Recently in the news we learned of the discovery of an older corn strain with a gene for fixing nitrogen in the soil, as soybeans do, that grows well in poor soil. This is promising, since corn is a nitrogen-hungry crop and nitrogen production is expensive, energy intensive, and its runoff can pollute ground waters. Marry that gene to higher-producing strains, and a revolution in grain production could possibly result.

Can you eat your Indian corn display? That depends.

You can but . . . please . . . not if it has been sprayed with shellac by crafters to preserve the ears — an unlikely prospect if you purchased your corn still in its protective sheath, or corn shuck. It’s possible to grind unsprayed ears, and the resulting flour can be used for masa, tamales or polenta. The Thanksgiving dish “Indian Pudding,” rich with cornmeal, milk, molasses and maple syrup, is another use.

The corn seeds first need to be “popped” from the cob, usually over a bowl or bag. Then the kernels are ground in a coffee grinder or Magic Bullet (guessing here that the stone mortar and pestle doesn’t appeal). A coarse setting on your grinder can give you the makings of fresh grits.

If you do decide to grow some Indian corn at the back of your garden next fall, you don’t have to buy special seeds; you can just shuck some kernels from your favorite ears of Indian corn (again, assuming it’s shellac-free). Store seeds out of the reach of rodents in an airtight bag in a cool, dry area for the winter. The freezer is a good idea.

When the soil warms strongly next spring, plant in rich soil — as a type of grass, corn is nitrogen-hungry. Plant in a block or multiple rows so the corn is easily pollinated by the wind. Single rows give you poor pollination, and the ears will not fill with kernels. Water well, and offer a little fertilizer when the sprouts emerge.

Don’t plant your Indian corn near your sweet corn, because the two will happily cross-pollinate, and your sweet corn will not be very sweet. Keep the plots a minimum of 250 feet apart, or else separate your plantings by two weeks so they don’t tassel at the same time. Allow corn to dry somewhat on the stalk, then harvest in mid-September or so. Bundle the cornstalks for a further fall display.

If you can rodent-proof your Indian corn wreath or display, and you can keep it dry, you can use it again next year. But I tend to complete the seasonal cycle, sharing our pretty bounty at Thanksgiving with the local squirrels, and moving on to Christmas.  PS

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

Grape Expectations

The magic of muscadines

By Jan Leitschuh

As a Wisconsin transplant who fell in love with the South almost 40 years ago, I had never tasted a muscadine grape until the early 2000s.

It wasn’t until I bought a little patch of land here that I came to know the unique fall grape born in the Tar Heel State. In fact, it’s our state fruit.

The muscadine is often called the “grape of the South.” Though widely cultivated now in the southern and eastern United States, Vitis rotundifolia has a wild, wild past. Gathered for centuries for jams, ciders, jellies, preserves and homemade wine, the first reported muscadine was the “Mother Vine,” a golden-green variety of muscadine vine discovered by Sir Walter Raleigh’s colony. The colonists delighted in the abundance of these sweet treats tangling coast, woodland and riverbank. 

By the way, the “Mother Vine” still lives in coastal Manteo, stewarded by an elderly couple on private land. Over 400 years old, she is America’s oldest cultivated grapevine. At one point, “Mother” covered over half an acre, with a trunk-like base 2 feet thick. Her wild gold-bronze fruits were named for the Scuppernong River, which runs into the Albemarle Sound in eastern North Carolina. Scuppernong is the original variety discovered growing in the wild. 

While the term muscadine encompasses both the greenish-bronze scuppernongs as well as the purple-black grapes, the moniker “scuppernong” is reserved for the fairer grape alone.

My new property is nestled beside a town so tree-filled and tangled it was originally named Vineland before John T. Patrick renamed it Southern Pines. The raw land was filled with muscadines. Threaded through the wooded edges of my piece of heaven were exceedingly vigorous grapevines, wild and snarled, which I left alone out of curiosity and, frankly, a healthy live-and-let-live indolence. It’s a lot of work, tearing out grapevines, and expensive, too — a bulldozer or trackhoe is needed to uproot an old vine. 

We co-existed. Cardinals built their nests in the protective snarls, the light green leaves sparkled in the woodland fringes, and the vines did their viniferous thing.

Come August, the vines were heavy with fruit. The leaves shaded to gold. The birds grew excited. It became inadvisable to park under the vine-bearing trees. The vines began to shed ripe grapes, and the birds shed the remainders of ripe grapes. 

I had to see what the excitement was about. I’d heard how old country farmhouses kept a bowl of muscadines on the kitchen table in the fall, something tasty to grab and snack on. Or that every third Southern backyard had a cultivated muscadine. I reached out to my wild vines and sampled some very sour greenish-gold grapes — and some sweet and strangely intriguing black grapes.

Biting in, the thick skin was a surprise. To one raised on common green grapes from the grocery, these feral globes were of a different ilk, larger and hanging solo rather than in a tight cluster. Likewise, the five large seeds each grape contained got in the way of the juicy pulp. 

It was not love at first bite. And yet, the grapes were curiously addictive. By the end of that first fall, I found myself craving their unique, dusky taste.

Only later did I learn the intriguing, heart-healthy benefits of this curious Southern fruit.

Muscadine grapes, it turns out, are antioxidant superstars.

Nature’s healthiest grape, muscadines have, by a large margin, the highest levels of antioxidants. We are talking off the charts healthy. One could even pull out that hoary label “superfood.” Studies show that the main compounds, ellagic acid and resveratrol (you know, the redwine antioxidant), can play a useful role in preventing cancer, heart disease and hyperlipidemia (high cholesterol). They forestall free radical damage and inflammation, staving off aspects of the aging process. Muscadines can also help inhibit the growth of cancerous cells by inducing apoptosis, or cell death. 

Beneficial for hypertensive people, especially people also suffering from high cholesterol, muscadine phytochemicals can help regulate blood pressure. Muscadine grape skin extract inhibits the cell growth in prostate cancer. Muscadines also enhance general immunity, just what is needed heading into fall’s chilly storms.  

Other nutrients found in muscadines include the antioxidant quercetin, vitamin C, potassium, vitamin B, and trace minerals. Muscadines are naturally fat-free — a half-cup serving is 65 calories — cholesterol-free and low in sodium. They are fiber rich, too, full of the insoluble fiber doctors urge us all to consume.  

Unlike other grapes, which are bred to be seedless, muscadines contain both seeds and those thick skins. I soon discovered many people spit out the skin and seeds. Unfortunately, 90 percent of the nutritional health benefits of the grapes are in the skin and seeds. 

Based on the ORAC (Oxygen Radical Absorbance Capacity, a lab test to measure antioxidants in food), muscadine grapes have been clocked as high as 6,800 per 100 grams, compared to 739 for red grapes. The muscadine grape skins alone have about six to eight times as much antioxidant capacity as whole blueberries.

Yet muscadine seeds are the true antioxidant superstars. Seeds contain the highest antioxidant levels in the grape, followed by the skin and pulp. The seeds are dense with phenolics, containing 87 percent health-promoting antioxidant compounds. That’s crazy. The skins, the second-highest source, contain around 11 percent, and muscadine pulp has only 1.6 percent. Researchers have identified a total of 88 different antioxidant compounds in muscadine grapes, 43 of which occurred in the seeds. Seventeen of the compounds are unique to muscadine grapes. Muscadine grapes work this magic via an extra set of chromosomes, with genes that produce a unique balance of phytonutrients virtually absent in other grapes.

The seeds need to be chewed to release their health benefits, but if you aren’t fond of munching on gritty grape seeds (tasteless, I might add), there are other ways to ingest.  Unwilling to spit out and waste the deep nutrition of the seeds, I like to wash and freeze a batch of grapes on a tray, then bag the grapes for later fall and winter smoothies. A few frozen grapes tossed into many smoothie recipes sweeten things up naturally, and a good blender makes short work of the seeds and skins. Vôila! Drinking my nutrition.

Another way to capture the seed nutrition is to pay big bucks for a muscadine grape supplement, sold online or in health food stores for $30-$45. Some clever wineries, understanding how valuable their waste product actually was, discovered ways to dry and powder the seeds, encapsulating the result and offering it for sale. Why buy resveratrol pills for inflammation control? Eat muscadines and get the whole panoply of benefits.

For cooking, fresh muscadines are often de-seeded, and the pulp and hulls cooked. The resulting preserve is used in breads, cakes and pies. To feature a taste of place, regional chefs enjoy crafting unique dishes with muscadine flavors. Their offerings often feature pork, a fellow fall flavor. A quick perusal of online recipes turns up such dishes as Muscadine-Honey Glazed Pork Chops, or Slow-Cooker Muscadine and Cranberry Pork Roast.  Beef gets a showing, too, such as Scuppernong-Glazed Bourbon Beef Ribs with Tasso. Grilled Sausage with Herbed Muscadine Sauce is drool-worthy.

Some folks make a fall chutney or spicy muscadine sauce with cloves, allspice, cinnamon and mace. I’d be tempted to add a tiny bit of heat to that sweet, perhaps a small nugget of jalapeño worked in. Muscadine mojitos sound perfect for those glorious Indian summer weekends or perhaps Muscadine Sangria. All Google-able.

Muscadine swirl cheesecake is inventive, and appears to take cream cheese and mascarpone to a whole new level. A creamy goat cheese log with muscadine jelly alongside is as simple as party treats get. Scuppernong pound cake evokes church dinners in the fall. Muscadines in port wine spooned over ice cream intrigues.

You can grow your own muscadines to easily cover a trellis or arbor. They are sturdy, vigorous, native and virtually pest-free (unless you count birds). Lacking vines of your own, search for pints of muscadines at farmers markets, in Sandhills Farm to Table Co-op boxes and farm stands. There are also many muscadine vineyards located throughout our state, especially down east. Some grocery stores may even feature them for a very short time.

Store muscadines in a covered shallow container in the refrigerator for best results. Do not wash them until you are ready to use them — this prevents the muscadines from degrading. The N.C. Cooperative Extension says they will keep for up to a week depending upon their original condition, but are best if used within a few days. Inspect the grapes periodically and remove ones that show signs of decay. But honestly, I mostly keep mine on a cool counter, or freeze.

To cook or preserve muscadines, sort, stem and wash. Separate pulp from hulls, saving both. Heat the pulp to boiling, to separate seed. I use the back of a spoon to push the cooked pulp through a strainer. Mix juice with hulls and boil until the hulls are tender. Mix softened hulls with seed-free pulp. Add one part sugar to six parts grapes, stirring until sugar is dissolved. Cool and then either process or use as a sauce in some creative manner of your own.

This month, see if you can track down this edible piece of North Carolina heritage. If the taste doesn’t grow on you, perhaps the health benefits will.  PS

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