Fall has finally shown its face at our house. It’s cool and overcast with a slight breeze filtering in through the screens. I like it. I like it a lot. I bought a tree of brussel sprouts at the market the other day. Haven’t seen them in a while. I don’t know if they taste better than those already picked but the fun is in the visual presentation for me. You can cut what you choose and store the tree with the remaining sprouts in a plastic bag or in water until you need them
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While I was washing and cutting I was watching Places in the Heart, one of my favorite movies. It reminded me of a barn dance that I went to when I was living in Arkansas. We had friends that lived out in the country about 15 miles from Ashdown where my husband and I had our home. The couple had built their cozy western style home from the ground up with their own hands and the help of their family. The barn was the last structure to go up, so in celebration of the final brick being laid in the chimney they held a dance.
It was interesting for me, being a “northerner” as I was always referred to, although California is not exactly a northern state, but in their eyes I guess anyone not from the South was considered from the north.
Most of the farmers drove pickup trucks, usually old or at least well-used. This not just because they liked to drive them, although most did, but more for their endurance on rutted dirt roads and obvious ability to transport hay, feed, and farm equipment in their beds. That being said, when we pulled up around supper time the trucks were lined up along the dirt road in front and went on well beyond their property. Hunting dogs were peeking their curious faces over the tailgates some tentatively wagging their tails as we walked by, others offering only a low growl to let us know not to come too near.
With no lights but the chards from the well-lit barn up ahead, the stars stood out against the dark sky in a truly spectacular display. The only sounds were the muffled music coming from the barn, an occasional bullfrog calling for a mate, and the incessant buzzing of mosquitos in the humid air. Very peaceful. Coming from the city where quiet is a luxury not often afforded to its inhabitants it was one of what I call, my “near perfect moments”. Those are those times where you wouldn’t change an instant of the experience and are just glad to be alive.
Entering the barn we found a country band on piles of hay toward the back, couples dancing the two-step in the center, and more Stetson’s and belt buckles than I’d ever seen in one place in my life. The barn itself was beautiful. It was to house the small herd of mules that the owner’s raised and trained. The host came up and greeted us, a cast on one arm as a result of one of their charges backing him up against a wall the following week and breaking his arm and two ribs. He asked if I’d like to take a tour and visit the stalls. I passed. I found the people so friendly, ready with a handshake or a hug, perfect strangers most of them, to me at least.
We all brought a dish of one sort or another, which were lined up on tables topped with red and white checkered tablecloths along the side wall. Outside the smokers were filled with briskets put on early that morning, chicken and huge racks of ribs being basted with mops of thick spicy sauce. Just a feast for the senses.
The food was wonderful. Corn bread, some with jalapenos and onions, some sweet and some not, presented in cast iron skillets (in the South they’ll tell you there’s no other way to cook it), okra casseroles, big pots of mustard and collard greens with chunks of bacon and sweet onion, fried catfish with hush puppies, and every kind of salad and dessert imaginable. I stuffed myself.
We danced and socialized well into the night. It was a great moment for me to find people who didn’t have much that gave so much of themselves.
My thoughts of the south for today.
Hush Puppies
2 cups white cornmeal
2 Tbsp. all-purpose flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. kosher salt
1/8 tsp. ground pepper
1/8 tsp. cayenne pepper
1/2 cup grated yellow onion
1/4 cup scallions, green portion sliced thin
1 egg yolk
1 1/2 cups buttermilk
3 egg whites
Cooking oil
Place at least 3″ of cooking oil in a heavy deep skillet. Whisk cornmeal, flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, pepper, and cayenne to blend. Add onion, egg yolk, and 1 1/2 cups buttermilk. Stir until well blended.
Whip egg whites until they mound but do not form stiff peaks. Quickly fold into the batter. Drop by rounded spoonfuls into hot oil. Turn to make sure they brown on all sides. When golden brown remove with slotted spoon and drain on paper towels.
Serve with fried fish.
