food

An installment in our Appalachian Foodways series The Door Beneath the House  The door sat low to the ground beside the back steps. Most days it stayed shut, its boards dark from years of weather. In winter, it opened often.  Someone lifted the latch and the door scraped softly against the dirt. Cold air rolled up the steps before anything could be seen below. A narrow set of…

An installment in our Appalachian Foodways series A pot of beans sits on the stove in late March. They’ve been soaking since morning. There’s cornmeal in the bin and a heel of fatback left from winter slaughter, but not much else. The cellar shelves have thinned. The last jars of green beans are already spoken…

An installment in our Appalachian Foodways series The first thing you notice is the crunch. A good mountain apple doesn’t yield much when you bite into it. There’s a sharp crack as the skin breaks, followed by dense flesh that holds its shape under pressure. Juice comes after, not before. The apple doesn’t collapse or turn soft…

An installment in our Appalachian Foodways series Before freezers reached mountain kitchens, canning sausage was a practical response to a stubborn reality. Ground meat didn’t keep the way whole cuts did. Once a hog was broken down, sausage became the most vulnerable part of the work. Families knew from experience that if it wasn’t handled…

An installment in our Appalachian Foodways series A strip of fatback in a hot pan offers a familiar scent. The sizzle settles into a steady rhythm, and the kitchen takes on a soft haze that Appalachian cooks knew well. Their gardens offered plenty of food but not much flavor. Beans carried their own comfort but…