#32
September 1, 2026
Searchable issue transcript
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foothills foothills Digest Digest Skillets Skillets & & Cellars Cellars stories, Flavors, and Traditions stories, Flavors, and Traditions from the foothills of the Blue Ridge from the foothills of the Blue Ridge Display until 12/25 $10.95
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blue ridge parkwa y plate! Adventure awaits, with your new G et t he p late.org By purchasing the North Carolina specialty license plate for your car or motorcycle, you can help fund trail improvements, overlook clearing, historical preservation, and more on the Blue Ridge Parkway.
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TO SUBSCRIBE, SCAN CODE OR MAIL A CHECK FOR $37 TO Foothills Digest 1070 26th Ave NE Hickory NC 28601 Name: Address: Phone: Or, we accept credit cards. Card Number: Expiration: CVV Code: foothills Digest On the Cover: We visited Old Salem and had the rare chance to watch historians prepare meals using ingredients grown right there in the gardens. They worked with old-fashioned tools and cooking methods, sharing stories of the people who once relied on these traditions. There’s something magical about seeing living history in action. Watching food come full circle—from the soil to the hearth—made it so much easier to imagine how our ancestors grew, prepared, and enjoyed their meals. It brought the past to life in a way books never could. One lucky reader will win a $100 gift certificate from Biscuitville. We'll pick the winner on November 1, 2025. Visit our site to learn how to enter the contest. foothillsdigest.com/biscuitville
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4 foothills Digest 3838 Cleary Rd Laurel Springs, NC 28644 Issue #29 2025 Phone: 828.475.1323 E-mail editor@foothillsdigest.com Website foothillsdigest.com Stock by Adobe Stock Created using Adobe Suite Edited with the assistance of Open AI PRINTED IN USA PARTNER COMPANY: ECKARD PHOTOGRAPHIC CARMEN ECKARD Editor-in-Chief Author JON ECKARD Photographer JOEY OSB ORNE Partner DON FORREST Sales Director CONTRIBUTOR Evelyn Eckard " Put it before them briefly so they will read it, clearly so they will appreciate it, picturesquely so they will remember it and, above all, accurately so they will be guided by its light." -Joseph Pulitzer
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5 Dear Readers, Here we are—Issue 29 of Foothills Digest! That’s more than seven years of celebrating the beauty, resilience, and creativity of our region, and I don’t take a single one of those issues for granted. This marks the second time we’ve focused an entire edition on Appalachian food, and just like before, we found ourselves completely immersed—in the stories, in the flavors, and in the sense of place that always seems to rise up from the plate. This time, we had the absolute pleasure of working with Chef Benjamin Sullivan, whose food is as thoughtful and rooted as it is downright delicious. His recipes feel like home, even when they surprise you. They honor what’s come before while gently pushing into something fresh. Around here, we all know what we eat—pinto beans, cornbread, fried apples, and maybe a mess of ramps when we can get our hands on them. We love to look at why we eat those things, and how those choices are tied to our land, our people, and our past. I’ve already made the cucumber buttermilk salad, and next week I’m trying that tomato pie. If Bob Timberlake had a fork in hand, I feel confident he’d nod in approval. This issue also arrives at a time when many of us have been thinking more deeply about how to care for ourselves and our families. The past few years have shown us how quickly things can shift, and how important it is to be prepared—not in fear, but in love. In that spirit, we’ve included some practical tips and old mountain wisdom about preparing for crisis before it arrives. Our grandparents filled their cellars with intention. We can do the same—whether with beans or batteries. Thank you, as always, for sitting down with this magazine and letting us be part of your world. We love our readers—we truly do—and we’re honored to keep telling the stories of the foothills, one season at a time. Warmly, Carmen Eckard Editor-in-Chief
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5 Letter from the Editor 8 Simple Food, Deep Roots 12 Where the Pawpaws Grow 20 Old Salem 26 The Bluffs Restaurant 30 Food Festivals of Western NC 34 NC's Liquid Bread 36 Molasses Memories 40 Vines in the Valleys 43 Biscuits and Ballads 44 Biscuitville 49 Rooted in the Wild 54 Eating with Bob Timberlake 68 A State Steeped in Flavor 75 Apple Stack Cake 76 Aged to Perfection: NC's Cheese 80 Livermush 82 Cranford Hospitality 90 The Low and Slow BBQ Show 92 The Frothy Rooster 94 Cowa Sake 96 The Cellar's Still Full 104 Packing a Bug Out Bag 108 Cooking Like You're From Here 116 Tradition, Refined: Chef Sullivan Table of Table of Contents Contents Scan for information about our Advertisers. Foothills Digest is a proud sponsor of MerleFest, the Catawba Valley Pottery Festival, and the Smoky Mountain Blue Grass Festival.
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When Food Tastes Like Home If you want to understand the food of Appalachia—especially in western North Carolina—you first have to understand the mountains themselves. Steep ridges, winding creeks, unpredictable weather, and rocky soil shaped not just how people lived, but how they ate. Every meal here was influenced by what the land would give, what you could grow or raise, and—just as often—what you had to do without. The kitchen was never just a place to cook. It was where knowledge was passed down, where children learned by watching hands more than reading recipes, and where ingredients told stories older than the walls around them. The flavor of Appalachian cooking is built on survival, ingenuity, and love that shows up in the form of cornbread, beans, and a pot always big enough for one more. And because the mountains often meant isolation—long winters, muddy roads, and hollers far from town—people learned to be self-reliant. Recipes weren’t just about flavor; they were about endurance. A good cook knew how to stretch a chicken for three meals or make dessert without sugar, and she carried that wisdom the way you’d carry a quilt—stitched together from pieces of those who came before. In that way, every dish became a kind of inheritance. Simple Food, Deep Roots
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What Grew Here, Fed Here The backbone of Appalachian cooking is simple: you cooked what you could grow, gather, or raise. The lush, temperate hills are a natural pantry, offering wild foods that show up on the plate season after season. Ramps (wild leeks), morel mushrooms, black walnuts, huckleberries, poke sallet, dandelion greens, and pawpaws all made the journey from forest floor to kitchen table. Families planted sturdy crops that could handle the mountain’s poor soil and erratic weather— corn, beans, squash, turnips, cabbage, and potatoes were staples. You’d often find a mess of beans cooking with a hunk of salt pork, or a skillet of fried cabbage beside a pan of cornbread. Apples thrived on the cooler slopes and became central to mountain cuisine. They were eaten fresh, dried for winter, turned into cider, and layered into the famous apple stack cake—a wedding dessert and symbol of community effort. The Livestock That Made Sense It’s no accident that pork is king in Appalachian kitchens. Cows were hard to keep in the hollers— they needed space and grazing pasture that most families simply didn’t have. But pigs? Pigs were perfect. They’d eat just about anything, didn’t mind the brambles, and could be turned loose to root around the woods for acorns and chestnuts. Every part of the hog had a purpose—hams and shoulders for smoking, scraps for sausage, and even the head for souse, head cheese, or mixed with liver and cornmeal to make liver mush. Cracklins flavored cornbread, and lard was used for frying, baking, and greasing pans. Chickens were another mountain mainstay— easy to care for, always good for eggs, and every now and then, Sunday dinner. Goats sometimes pulled their weight, too, giving milk or meat, but in most older mountain recipes, pork is the reigning star. You won’t find much lamb or beef in the traditional fare—not because folks didn’t like it, but because it just didn’t make sense for the land.
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Poor but Resourceful Appalachian families didn’t just cook with what they had—they made it stretch. Poverty was common, especially before paved roads and power lines brought the outside world closer. Some homes didn’t have electricity until the 1940s or even later. But mountain folks made do. Woodstoves warmed the room and cooked the food. A handful of beans could be turned into a filling soup. Nothing was wasted. That’s why the recipes handed down from these hills are so practical and so clever. Biscuits and cornbread used only a few ingredients—flour or cornmeal, a little lard, a splash of buttermilk or water. Greens were boiled with a scrap of smoked meat to add flavor. Potatoes showed up in everything: soups, stews, fried with onions, mashed, or baked. Desserts, when you had them, were often simple but meaningful—molasses cookies, vinegar pie, or a pan of dried apple dumplings. If you were lucky enough to have sugar, it was used carefully and stretched as far as it could go. Community and Preservation In these mountains, food was never just about feeding your own—it was about feeding each other. Hog killings were events where neighbors pitched in, sharing the work and the reward. So was canning. You might see a group of women around a table, shelling beans or peeling apples, talking and laughing and getting the work done. No bounty was allowed to go to waste. Whether you had a bumper crop of beans or a mess of wild berries, someone else likely had empty jars or a pie crust ready. It was a patchwork kind of survival, stitched together by generosity and shared labor. Making molasses was another deeply communal tradition, often marking the transition from summer to fall. Families would haul in stalks of sorghum cane, strip the leaves, and feed the long green stalks through a mule-powered mill that squeezed out the juice. The raw syrup was then boiled down in a wide, shallow pan over an open fire, tended by a circle of watchful neighbors who took turns skimming the foam and stirring the pot. Kids ran barefoot through the grass, sneaking sweet drips from the skimmer, while the air filled with the earthy, rich scent of molasses thickening under the flame. It was hot, sticky work, but the reward was sweet—and the process itself became a celebration of the season’s end.
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What couldn’t be eaten fresh was canned, dried, smoked, salted, or pickled. Cellars held rows of gleaming jars—tomatoes, beans, kraut, beets, chow chow, apple butter—lined up like jewels on wooden shelves. Apples were strung on thread and dried by the fire; hams were hung high in the smokehouse. When the snow came and the gardens slept, it was these small acts of preservation that made the difference between going hungry and getting by. And if your shelf got low, chances were good that someone down the holler would bring you a jar or two. Food was love, and love meant nobody got left behind. Before electricity and refrigeration, keeping food cool in the summer heat was no small feat. But Appalachian folks figured it out. One of the cleverest solutions was the spring box—a wooden or stone structure placed directly in a cold mountain spring. Inside, you could store milk, butter, cheese, or leftovers. The constant, icy flow of spring water kept everything chilled, even on the hottest days. Some families built full spring houses, complete with shelves and doors, to keep out animals and sun. These setups weren’t just handy—they were vital. Spring boxes allowed families to preserve perishable foods long before the days of electric freezers and store-bought ice. In a landscape that demanded resilience, they were a quiet triumph of practical ingenuity. A Cuisine That Endures Today, Appalachian food is finally getting some of the recognition it deserves. But in truth, it never left. It’s still here, in the way grandmothers cook Sunday dinner and kids learn to snap beans on the porch. It’s in the cornmeal-dusted skillet, the cast iron passed down through generations, the smell of cider simmering on the stove. These recipes are humble, but they’re mighty. They carry stories, memories, and entire ways of life. They remind us of a time when flavor came from the land, not a label—and when the best meals weren’t always the fanciest, but the ones that were shared. So when you bite into a slice of stack cake, spoon up a mess of beans, or taste the tang of sorghum molasses on a hot biscuit, know this: you’re not just eating food. You’re tasting the mountains themselves—resilient, generous, and always ready to make a little go a long way.
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12 In the Holler, In the Holler, Where the Where the Pawpaws Pawpaws Grow Grow Pawpaws Pawpaws
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13 You can see the mountains from Susan Owen’s porch—blue layers rising soft and wide like folds in a quilt. Her cabin, a two-century-old structure rescued from the other side of Watauga County, sits like it belongs there, not just placed on the land but carved into it. Every corner of the home has been touched by intention: blooms spill from handmade planters, heirloom furniture rests beside folk art, and each detail feels curated—not for show, but for meaning. Susan has spent more than forty years as an organic farmer, working closely with the rhythms of earth and water. Her days have been shaped by soil, seeds, and the steady patience that growing things requires. So it’s all the more striking that she’s also a blacksmith—comfortable at the forge, working with fire and metal. That blend of elements shows in everything she touches. The home she shares with her husband is part living gallery, part mountain haven, where strength and beauty live side by side. Step off the porch and follow the gravel switchbacks through the garden beds, and the mountain begins to swallow you. The light changes. Trees lean in, and sound softens. You walk deeper into the holler, where wildness takes over and cultivated order gives way to something older, looser, more alive. And then, suddenly, it opens. At the bottom of the wooded fold, nestled in a clearing ringed with thick forest, stands her pawpaw orchard—rows and rows of trees planted with precision, their trunks still slender, their roots reaching deeper each year. The symmetry of the orchard stands in quiet contrast to the wildness around it. The fruit won’t be ready until September, but the space already hums with life and anticipation. This is where her magic happens. A Dream, Planted “You know the old song about the pawpaw patch?” Susan said, her voice half-laughing. “I remember asking my mom what a pawpaw was, and she just shrugged." That mystery stuck with her, lodged like a seed waiting for the right time to sprout. She grew up in Winston-Salem but dreamed of a different life—one rooted in the mountains, in a place where she could
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grow things, make things, live quietly. She even wrote an essay for a college application describing the life she imagined: a cabin in the woods, a bit of land, a farm to tend. “You can’t live like that,” a college advisor told her. “You need to think about becoming a CEO or something.” When Susan discovered the cabin—rough-hewn, weathered, and more than 200 years old on a nearby mountainside—she relocated it to a place that felt just right, nestled in nature and alive with birdsong and breeze. That was nearly three decades ago. Though she didn’t live there full-time at first, she began planting anyway, including three small pawpaw saplings Susan picked up on a whim. She didn’t know much about the fruit, only that the name stirred something familiar—like a memory trying to surface, or a line from an old song half-remembered. About ten years ago, Susan and her husband realized there was nothing tying them to town any longer, and they could live full time on their mountainside. Now Susan wakes up surrounded by the very life she imagined as a young woman—the cabin, the quiet, the food she grows, the orchard beyond the garden beds. What once seemed like a pipe dream is now something solid, rooted, and very much alive. Growing What Few Know Pawpaws are generous in fruit, but finicky in almost everything else. They don’t take kindly to mistakes, as Susan learned early on. The first time her trees bore fruit, she was thrilled. She carefully saved the seeds from that harvest, imagining all the new trees she’d grow. She laid them out to dry—like she’d done with other plants a hundred times before. But pawpaw seeds are different. Once they dry out, they’re done. They won’t germinate, no matter how lovingly you plant them.
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“I was so proud of that first harvest,” she said. “And then I ruined every single seed.” She laughed when she told us, but there was something else in her voice, too—reverence. The kind you develop when you learn something the hard way. Since then, she’s grown into one of the region’s most knowledgeable pawpaw growers, and it didn’t come from books. “Sometimes, you get advice that sounds confident but turns out to be wrong,” she told us. “There just aren’t that many people who know how to grow pawpaws well. So I had to figure it out myself.” She grows native trees from seed in her greenhouses— carefully stored, never dried—and grafts rare cultivars onto some of them. The wild types remain her favorites, but the grafted trees produce larger fruit with more consistent flavor. What began with three saplings has become a forest in progress. And even after decades of working with plants, Susan still finds the pawpaw a worthy challenge. “They’re not like anything else,” she said. “That’s what makes them interesting.” A Fruit You Have to Chase Even now, most people have never tasted a pawpaw. That’s not because they’re rare in the wild—they’re not. It’s because pawpaws don’t behave the way modern fruit is supposed to. You can’t pick them early and let them ripen in a truck. You can’t store them for weeks. You definitely can’t bounce them around in a shipping crate. They bruise fast, soften quickly, and go from perfect to mush in the blink of an eye. That fragility is part of their charm—and their curse. “They’re not a commercial fruit,” Susan said plainly. “They don’t fit into the system.” Instead, pawpaws have to be eaten fresh, or frozen quickly. And because they’re only in season for a few short weeks in late summer, you have to know when to look. That’s why families used to guard their pawpaw patches like secrets—racing the critters each year to get to the fruit before the raccoons, possums, and squirrels beat them to it. These days, Susan shares her fruit with restaurants, breweries, and customers lucky enough to catch her at the right time. She freezes pulp as soon as it’s harvested, packing it in containers that end up in beer, pudding, and even sorbet. Boone’s Lost Province Brewing Co. has made pawpaw sorbet. Appalachian Mountain Brewery has brewed
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pawpaw beer. Over Yonder restaurant makes a pawpaw pudding that’s pure Appalachian alchemy. And on the day we visited, Susan served us pawpaw ice cream—soft, creamy, golden as custard, with a flavor that lives somewhere between banana, mango, and vanilla. It’s tropical, almost. But there’s something Appalachian about it too. Something quiet and full. “People always ask me what it tastes like,” Susan said, smiling. “But to me, a pawpaw tastes like a pawpaw.” Pawpaws and the Creatures They Keep Pawpaws don’t just taste like they came from another place. They feel like they came from another time. “They go back to mastodons,” Susan told us, brushing a hand across the leaves. And that’s not just poetic—it’s botanical fact. Pawpaws are one of the oldest fruiting plants in North America, dating back tens of millions of years. They existed before bees did. Their pollinators aren’t the fluttering types we usually picture— they’re beetles and flies. The flowers themselves are strange: deep maroon, with a scent that’s earthy and slightly fermented. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s not delicate either. It’s designed to attract creatures that most gardeners would swat away. Pawpaws thrive in relationship with what’s ancient, overlooked, and essential. Susan knows this rhythm well now. She doesn’t expect her orchard to behave like a row of peaches or apples. She lets it be what it is— wild, rooted, and older than memory. That deep connection to the natural world has brought unexpected visitors. The zebra swallowtail butterfly, rare in this region and considered absent by official records, still appears in her orchard from time to time. She sees them—just now and then—black and white and flitting low among the leaves. She knows there are caterpillars too, resting on the soft underside of pawpaw leaves. “They find the trees,” she said simply. “They know.”
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18 The zebra swallowtail depends entirely on pawpaws. It’s the only plant its caterpillars can eat, the single thread tying its fragile life cycle to the forest floor. Without pawpaws, there are no zebra swallowtails—no flicker of black-and-white wings, no flash of red near the tail, no summer dance above the leaves. And here, in this quiet hollow, they’ve found a patch of forest where that old partnership still holds. A Growing Patch, A Growing Legacy What began with just three saplings has grown into a living archive of flavor, memory, and biodiversity. Today, Susan tends a total of seventy pawpaw trees, with sixty carefully planted in her orchard. The collection includes several prized varieties—Rappahannock, Potomac, Susquehanna, Rebecca’s Gold, and Overleese—each offering its own balance of texture and taste. Some are grafted from the legendary Peterson line, known for their size and reliability. But Susan still makes room for the wild ones—the untamed natives—because they matter, too. They carry the old genetics, the deep-rooted resilience, and a flavor you can’t quite pin down, except to say it tastes like the forest remembered. She attends pawpaw conferences around the country, often finding herself the only woman—or one of very few—in rooms full of men focused on breeding bigger fruit, smaller seeds, tighter yields. But Susan doesn’t shrink in those rooms. She speaks up. “I’ve told them,” she said, “there’s something to be said for native plants.” For Susan, the smaller, wild-growing pawpaws aren’t inferior—they’re practical. “They’re eating size,” she said. “You can pick one off the tree and eat it fresh. Those larger ones can be up to a pound. You can’t just eat that off the tree! You can’t even share that with a friend... you have to take it inside to process it. There’s room for both.” That balance—between cultivation and wildness, science and story, old and new—is what defines her orchard. In her greenhouses, tucked into the hills beside the old cabin, she grows pawpaw seedlings with care and patience. Each one is a small miracle—sprouted from seeds that must be kept moist, coaxed into life by someone who’s learned what most people have forgotten. She shares what she’s learned at festivals and workshops, speaking as someone who’s paid close attention. She believes in biodiversity, in old knowledge, and in growing food that means something.
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19 Grown to Share We end our visit in the greenhouse, where rows of young pawpaw trees stretch toward the light, their slender trunks marked by graft scars—visible reminders of the careful union between rootstock and cultivar. Like apples, pawpaws are often grafted to ensure consistent fruit quality, and some seedlings grow wild and unaltered; others carry names like Potomac or Susquehanna, waiting to become someone else’s orchard, someone else’s beginning. She sells both the fruit and the trees—fresh pawpaws during the brief window when they’re ripe, frozen pulp year-round, and young trees ready for planting. “It’s a way to keep them going,” she says, brushing soil from a pot. “To make sure they’re not forgotten.” For anyone interested in buying fruit or trees, the best way to start is simply to reach out. Email thelilypatchfarm@gmail.com to begin a conversation. Susan will likely ask where you live, what your land is like, what your goals are. It’s not just about selling a tree—it’s about putting the right one in the right hands. As we leave the greenhouse, the air warm with leaf smell and potting soil, we can see the forest line just beyond the plastic walls. The pawpaw patch is still out there, waiting—an orchard planted by Susan’s own hands, each tree placed with thought and purpose, each row a testament to years of care. But in here, something else is growing—a quiet promise of more. These young trees, with their graft scars and tender leaves, hold within them the hope of future orchards, of shaded groves heavy with custard-sweet fruit. They carry the potential to restore what was once nearly forgotten, to bring pawpaws back into yards, parks, and homesteads where they can thrive. Each pot, each sapling, is a beginning—not just for the land where it will root, but for the people who will tend it, taste its fruit, and weave its story into their own.
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21 History Stirs the Pot at Old Salem Just a little east of the foothills, about an hour's drive from home, there’s a place where the past isn’t just remembered—it’s still alive. We love spending time at Old Salem Museum and Gardens with a camera and a notebook in hand, because every visit reveals something new. The streets are lined with beauty, the kind that sneaks up on you: a handmade hinge, a whiff of fresh bread, a gardener in the shadows of a historic fence. You don’t just see history here—you feel it. Old Salem was a Moravian settlement, and that heritage is preserved with deep care. The Moravians were meticulous record-keepers, which means the town’s buildings, practices, and rhythms have been restored with an incredible level of detail. Every street and structure holds stories, and the entire place feels like it's been gently handed down, one generation to the next. We spent a good bit of time at the Tavern Kitchen where travelers once stayed while passing through town. That kitchen was bustling back in the 1800s, and it’s bustling now. Step inside and you’ll find the hearth alive with flame, cast iron pots bubbling away, and the rhythm of real work echoing through the space. There’s a warm, earthy aroma in the air—smoke, onions, bread, stew, maybe a hint of cider warming in a corner. The brick walls seem to hold onto that scent, as if every meal ever cooked there still lingers in the mortar. You can hear the clatter of pots, the scrape of wooden spoons, the soft thud of dough being kneaded on worn wooden tables. Every corner hums with purpose.
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But the Tavern Kitchen is just one of many. Scattered all across the grounds are historic kitchens, tucked inside homes and workshops, each with its own fire going and someone hard at work. And these aren’t reenactments in the shallow sense. The folks stirring pots and baking in beehive ovens aren’t just dressed the part—they are the part. They’re historians, through and through. We talked with several of them, and every conversation made it clear: they’ve spent years immersed in the details of early Moravian life. They know the difference between a 1790s spice blend and an 1820s one. They can tell you why certain dishes were cooked a certain way, or what would’ve been served to guests versus what was saved for family. They don’t just replicate the past— they understand it, and they care deeply about preserving it. Their passion shows in every small gesture: in the way they fold a napkin, lift a lid, or explain the purpose of a particular herb or root. It’s a level of devotion that feels rare these days, and it’s deeply inspiring. And speaking of herbs—the gardens are something special, too. Scattered across the property, they’re both beautiful and functional, just as they were two centuries ago. Beds of medicinal plants grow alongside heirloom vegetables, and every flower seems to serve a purpose. You’ll see bee balm and yarrow, cabbages and beans, with labels tucked into the soil like quiet footnotes from another century. These are not just ornamental spaces—they’re working gardens, tended with care and
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intention, a reflection of the Moravian belief in stewardship, utility, and self-reliance. For us, it’s a kind of magic. We’re drawn to places where tradition is honored— not just put on display, but truly kept alive—and Old Salem fits that perfectly. It’s a place where the past is respected, not romanticized, and where every detail feels deliberate and rooted in truth. There’s something powerful about watching someone render lard the old- fashioned way, stirring patiently over an open flame. Or seeing water boiled over an open hearth to wash linens, not as a performance, but as an act of memory. Even something as simple as hearing someone explain the lineage of a pie recipe that came over with settlers two centuries ago can feel profound—because it reminds us that culture lives in the little things we pass down: in recipes, in tools, in gestures. It’s more than a museum. It’s a living memory—stitched together by people who care deeply, who understand that history isn’t just dates and names, but ways of doing, making, feeding, and tending. It’s a place where time softens, and you’re allowed to slip into an older rhythm, one shaped by purpose, patience, and community. So if you're looking for a meaningful day trip, one that leaves your belly full, your mind buzzing, and your heart settled, make the short drive to Old Salem. Bring your camera—you’ll want to catch the way sunlight spills across brick streets and the little details that seem frozen in time. Bring your notebook, too, because there’s a good chance you’ll stumble across a recipe, a story, or a turn of phrase worth saving.
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Wander slowly. Pause often. Let the scent of baking bread and woodsmoke pull you down side streets you might have otherwise missed. Stop to talk with the people tending fires and gardens—they’re generous with their knowledge, and every conversation peels back another layer of the past. Admire the careful work of hands that still know how to spin, knead, carve, and plant like their ancestors did. Because there’s something quietly powerful about this place. Old Salem isn’t just a look back—it’s a living memory, a reminder that the most enduring parts of culture are found in the things we make, share, and pass down. It’s a place where time slows, and you’re invited to step into a simpler rhythm, if only for an afternoon.
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26 The Bluffs RESTAURANT AT DOUGHTON PARK We’re not supposed to play favorites. But we’re going to anyway. There’s a place tucked into the curves of the Blue Ridge Parkway that makes us giddy every time we head north. As soon as we pass Milepost 241 and pull into the gravel lot beside Doughton Park, we start smiling. Because The Bluffs isn’t just a restaurant — it’s our restaurant. Our favorite one. The one we never stop being excited about. Maybe it’s the smell that gets us first — biscuits baking, bacon sizzling, coffee warming the air. Or maybe it’s the checkerboard floors and the kind of vintage counter that makes you want to slide onto a stool and order something smothered. Or maybe it’s the light — that wide mountain glow coming in through the windows, lighting up everything it touches with the same soft gold it has for decades. But more than anything, it’s the feeling: of being welcomed, fed, and deeply at home in the mountains.
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Sometimes, if you sit still long enough, you might feel like the place is haunted — not by ghosts, but by memory. Especially the memory of Ellen Woodruff Smith, who spent more than 50 years welcoming folks to The Bluffs. She started working there in 1949, the year it opened, and stayed until the very last day of service in 2010. That’s more than half a century of hand-delivered biscuits and morning coffee, and she did it all with a steady presence and a kind word for everyone. Ask around — people still remember her. Generations of Parkway travelers were served by Ellen, and her warmth lingers in the walls. Today, signs inside the restaurant honor her, but truth be told, you don’t need the signs to feel her there. Her spirit is stitched into the fabric of the place. When The Bluffs closed in 2010, it sat empty for years—quiet, but not forgotten. Locals missed it. Travelers asked about it. Stories were told, and hopes were held. And eventually, the Blue Ridge Parkway Foundation stepped up with a vision: not to reinvent The Bluffs, but to restore it. As an approved partner of the National Park Service, the Foundation entered into a historic five-year lease agreement to rehabilitate and operate the space—not as a typical concessionaire, but as a steward of place and memory. They raised over a million dollars from donors, friends, and neighbors who believed in the project. They fixed the roof, remediated mold, updated the kitchen, and brought back that iconic checkerboard floor. Every detail was chosen with care—because this wasn’t just a renovation, it was a homecoming. The Bluffs sits on federal parkland and is therefore owned by the people. That’s part of what makes it so special. It belongs to all of us, and through a historic lease agreement with the National Park Service, the Blue Ridge Parkway Foundation has restored and now operates it with care. As of January 2024, the Foundation manages daily operations of the restaurant—making sure the doors stay open, the food stays hot, and the spirit of The Bluffs continues for generations to come. And the food? Let’s talk about the food. Whether you’re digging into a plate of golden fried chicken, biting into a tender ham biscuit, scooping up house-made chicken salad, or
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29 carving into a generous portion of roast beef — you’re tasting Appalachian comfort food, done right. These are classics for a reason. Simple, delicious, filling. The kind of food that sticks with you long after you’ve left the table. We’ve eaten there when the fog rolled in so thick it felt like a dream. We’ve eaten there after long hikes, muddy boots tapping under the table. We’ve stopped in on the way home from nowhere in particular, and we’ve made day trips just to sit in that dining room and eat country ham biscuits while the mountains exhale around us. We’ve seen kids peering into dessert cases like they’re looking into treasure chests, and we’ve watched older folks get teary remembering meals they had here fifty years ago. And every single time, we’ve felt lucky. Not just because the food is fantastic (it absolutely is), but because The Bluffs is a place that matters. It’s a place where history lingers, where community gathers, and where the Parkway’s long story comes to life—one plate at a time. It’s memory and momentum, served with a side of slaw and a pitcher of sweet tea. To us, it’s the soul of the Parkway. If you’ve never been, go. Sit down, take your time, and order something that tastes like home. And if you have been? You already know.
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Mountain Glory Festival Mountain Glory Festival in South Marion in South Marion The South’s Best-Kept Secret: Food Festivals of Western NC Western North Carolina is home to some of the best food festivals in the Southeast, and it’s no wonder—food has always been at the heart of our culture. From garden to table, smokehouse to skillet, the way we grow, prepare, and share meals says everything about who we are. Here, food isn’t just sustenance; it’s a story, a memory, and a way of bringing people together. In these mountains and foothills, recipes are passed down like heirlooms, worn smooth by the hands of generations. Every dish carries a piece of history, from the cast-iron cornbread of Sunday suppers to the tangy vinegar sauce mopped over a slow-smoked hog. A good meal is never just about what’s on the plate—it’s about laughter around the table, the hush that falls as the first bite is taken, and the quiet satisfaction of feeding both body and soul. That deep-rooted love of food naturally spills over into celebration, and it’s no surprise that so many food festivals thrive in these hills. They’re more than events—they’re homecomings, harvests, and love letters to Appalachian flavor. Each festival is its own kind of gathering: a chance to taste the season, honor local farmers and chefs, and reconnect with the traditions that make this region so vibrant. You’ll find them sprinkled throughout the year, from spring’s first bounty to the cozy flavors of late autumn. While most of these beloved gatherings take place in the Foothills and surrounding mountains, we couldn’t help but include a few standouts from just east of the region. The Cheerwine Festival and the Lexington Barbecue Festival may lie beyond the Foothills proper, but they’re more than worth the drive for anyone who loves the taste of Carolina. Here’s a look at some of our favorite can’t- miss food festivals across the region— season by season. Mark your calendar, bring your appetite, and prepare to be welcomed like family.
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31 Fall Festivals NC Apple Festival August 29–September 1, 2025 (Labor Day Weekend) • Location: Downtown Hendersonville, NC Held every Labor Day weekend for over 75 years, the NC Apple Festival celebrates Henderson County’s deep-rooted apple industry—one of the largest apple-producing regions in the U.S. The four-day event includes a mile-long street fair, over 200 craft and food vendors, free entertainment, and plenty of fresh local apples in every form imaginable: fried pies, cider, slushies, caramel apples, and more. The festival culminates with the King Apple Parade on Labor Day, featuring floats, marching bands, and community pride on full display. More info at: ncapplefestival.org. Harvesting Heritage Festival Saturday, September 20, 2025 • 10 AM – 3 PM • Location: Center for Pioneer Life, Burnsville, NC Celebrate Appalachian farming traditions in beautiful Burnsville at the Harvesting Heritage Festival. Guests stroll through pioneer homesteads, watch blacksmiths at their forge, and learn open-hearth cooking and weaving techniques. Families pick pumpkins, explore historic cabins, and enjoy live mountain music drifting across the grounds. A lively vendor area showcases local artisans and food producers offering heritage snacks and crafts. With a modest admission ($5 at the gate) and a hands-on, educational spirit, this festival brings the region’s agricultural past to life. For details and tickets, visit pioneerlife.org/event-details-registration/harvesting-heritage-festival-2025. Appalachian Autumn Market & Fall Festival September 27, 2025 • 1 PM – 7 PM • Location: Hickory Ridge History Museum, Boone, NC This free, family-friendly festival celebrates Appalachian autumn at the Hickory Ridge History Museum. The day is filled with traditional fall delights—watch kettles bubble as apple butter is made, admire 18th-century demonstrations like candle dipping and blacksmithing, and enjoy live folk music and storytelling. Local artisans offer handmade crafts and seasonal treats, while kids (and their pets) delight in pumpkin painting, corn - shuck doll making, and costume contests. With a backdrop of historic cabins and mountain hospitality, it’s a perfect tribute to mountain culture in the fall. For full details and vendor info, visit horninthewest.com/fall-festival. Brushy Mountain Apple Festival Saturday, October 4, 2025 • Time: 9 AM – 5 PM • Location: Downtown North Wilkesboro, NC Each fall, North Wilkesboro transforms into a bustling autumn marketplace for the Brushy Mountain Apple Festival, one of the largest single-day events in the Southeast. Over 400 vendors line the streets, offering everything from artisan crafts to apple cider, fried pies, and homemade apple butter. With four music stages, clogging and square-dancing performances, and community-run food booths, the festival is a full sensory tribute to the apple harvest and Appalachian artistry. Welcoming around 160,000 visitors annually, it’s a can’t-miss for families, foodies, and mountain culture enthusiasts. Details and vendor info at applefestival.net. Sonker Festival Saturday, October 4, 2025 • Location: Edwards‑Franklin House, Mount Airy, NC Celebrating a uniquely Surry County tradition, the Sonker Festival brings the old - fashioned cobbler - style dessert to the forefront each fall. “Sonker” is a rustic dish made from seasonal fruit (like apple, blackberry, or sweet potato) layered with a slightly sweet dough and topped with a creamy “dip” often flavored with vanilla or molasses. During the festival, visitors sample sonker from family recipes passed down for generations, alongside live old‑time and bluegrass music, flat‑foot dancing, heritage crafts, and local historical exhibits. Free to attend—with a modest charge for tastings and beverages—this cozy gathering is a delicious nod to mountain heritage and communal storytelling through food. More info at: sonkertrail.org. Photo Courtesy of Pioneer Life Center
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Taylorsville Apple Festival Date: October 18, 2025 • Location: Downtown Taylorsville, NC Taylorsville’s Apple Festival turns downtown into a classic fall fair, welcoming tens of thousands of visitors for a full day of autumn fun. With over 400 vendors offering everything from handmade crafts to fried apple pies, the streets are alive with music, delicious aromas, and laughter. Three performance stages keep the energy high with gospel, bluegrass, and children’s entertainment, while families enjoy rides, petting zoos, and food contests centered around— you guessed it—apples. It’s a joyful, down-home celebration that brings the community together in the sweetest way. More info at: alexandercountyonline. com/applefestival. Smokin' in the Foothills BBQ Festival October 18–19, 2025 • Location: Downtown Lenoir, NC This two ‑ day barbecue extravaganza fills downtown Lenoir with the scent of hickory smoke and slow-cooked perfection. Sanctioned by the Kansas City Barbecue Society, the festival brings top-tier pitmasters to compete in categories like pork, brisket, ribs, and chicken. Alongside the fierce competition, guests enjoy live music, food trucks, wood-crafting demonstrations, a cornhole tournament, and a vibrant kids’ zone. There’s even a People’s Choice tasting where you can sample award-worthy BBQ and vote for your favorites. It’s a smoky, savory celebration that blends culinary craft with small-town charm. More details at: smokinginthefoothills.com Mush, Music & Mutts: NC Fall Liver Mush Festival October 2025 (exact dates TBD) • Location: Shelby, NC This quirky, fun ‑ filled festival highlights one of Western NC’s most unique foods: liver mush. More than a taste celebration, it’s a full community experience— combine live music, cooking contests, a lively livermush eating competition, and a pet-friendly atmosphere (think dog costume contests and pet activities) and you're in for a delightful fall afternoon. Booths serve up creative livermush dishes alongside classic barbecue and comfort food, while local vendors offer crafts and seasonal treats. It’s a playful, down ‑ home homage to regional flavor, and a great excuse to gather with friends, family, and furry companions. More details at: shelbyfallfestival.com Lexington Barbecue Festival Last Saturday in October 2025 (October 25) • Location: Lexington, NC Known as the “Barbecue Capital of the World,” Lexington brings its bold flavor and big-time celebration to life each October with over 100,000 attendees. The streets fill with the smell of slow ‑ cooked pork in the iconic “Lexington ‑ style,” and you’ll find everything from pit ‑ cooked whole hog to ribs and pulled BBQ. The event is more than great food—it’s a full-blown hometown experience, with live music spanning multiple stages, craft vendors, classic car shows, children’s activities, and even a famous BBQ sauces contest. It’s Southern barbecue at its finest, served with a generous helping of hometown pride. More info at: lexbbqfestival.com Highlands Food and Wine Festival Early November 2025 (typically the first weekend) • Location: Highlands, NC Set against the scenic backdrop of the Blue Ridge Mountains, the Highlands Food and Wine Festival is a high-end culinary event that brings together top chefs, sommeliers, and gourmet food vendors. Over the course of the weekend, attendees enjoy wine tastings, chef-led workshops, and special dinners, all celebrating local and regional flavors. Think artisan cheeses, small ‑ batch spirits, farm-fresh produce, and carefully paired menus that highlight the best of Appalachian ingredients. With live music, elegant receptions, and intimate evening events, this festival merges sophistication with mountain charm in a uniquely flavorful fall experience. More info at: highlandsfoodandwine.com
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Spring/Summer Festivals Carolina Mountain Cheese Fest Date TBD • 11:30 AM–5 PM • Oak & Grist Distilling, Black Mountain, NC This intimate celebration (usually capped at a few hundred tickets) spotlights artisan cheeses from Western North Carolina, paired with local craft beverages. Guests enjoy tastings, educational demos from cheesemakers, and delicious pairings with bread, charcuterie, and ciders—all in a scenic mountain distillery setting. Proceeds support the WNC Cheese Trail and sustainable dairy farming. Watch for the 2025 date to be announced. More info: mountaincheesefest.com. Livermush Festival Saturday, June 7, 2025 • Time: 5 PM–9 PM • Downtown Marion, NC Paying homage to a quirky Appalachian comfort food, this festival celebrates livermush with energy and flair. The main street fills with food vendors serving livermush sandwiches and inventive dishes, while live music, hog-calling contests, and kids’ activities add to the lively atmosphere. Expect a festive crowd, local craft booths, and a friendly, tongue-in-cheek spirit celebrating this regional specialty. More info: discovermarionnc.com/events/livermush-festival. Waynesville Ramp Festival Sunday, May 4, 2025 • American Legion Field, Waynesville, NC Held for over 80 years, the Waynesville Ramp Festival is one of the longest-running and most beloved food traditions in the mountains. Celebrating the pungent, wild-growing ramp—a spring delicacy of Appalachian cuisine—the festival features plates piled high with ramps, fried potatoes, beans, and cornbread, all served with a side of bluegrass music and mountain pride. Visitors can enjoy arts and crafts vendors, local heritage displays, clogging, and even a ramp-eating contest. With the crowning of the annual Ramp King and Queen and a strong community spirit, it’s a lively, flavorful way to welcome spring in Western North Carolina. More info at: haywoodnc.net Cheerwine Festival Saturday, May 17, 2025 • Time: 10 AM–7 PM • Downtown Salisbury, NC Celebrate Salisbury’s beloved cherry ‑ flavored soda with a street festival packed with live music, food trucks, arts and crafts, and two Cheerwine-themed beer gardens. You can sample exclusive Cheerwine drinks—including a special Goo Goo Cluster soda— browse merchandise, and enjoy family-friendly activities like rock climbing, trolley tours, and soda-themed exhibits. It’s a bubbly, community ‑ spirited fusion of flavor and hometown pride. More info: cheerwinefest.com. North Carolina Blackberry Festival July 11–12, 2025 • Location: Downtown Lenoir, NC Lenoir comes alive each July with this lively, fruit ‑ filled celebration of the blackberry harvest. Spread over two days, the festival features a cobbler parade, live music, a blackberry-eating contest, kids’ foam party, 5K race, vintage car show, and more. Blackberry treats of every kind—from fresh cobbler to blackberry lemonade—are found throughout downtown, alongside handmade crafts, games, and local vendors. It’s a free, family-friendly event with deep roots in community and tradition. More info at: ncblackberryfestival.com.
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“Beer is the liquid bread.” This old proverb, with roots in both England and Germany, perfectly sums up the historical—and nutritional—importance of beer. For centuries, beer wasn’t just a beverage; it was food, nourishment, and even safer to drink than water. When English and German immigrants settled in the foothills and mountains of North Carolina, they brought not only their brewing know-how, but a deep cultural love for beer. That’s a big reason why, to this day, the appreciation for a well-crafted pint is woven into the fabric of western North Carolina’s communities. Take a drive through western North Carolina, and you’ll notice rolling farmland, fertile valleys, mountain springs, and a climate that’s perfectly suited for both agriculture and fermentation. It’s no coincidence that this region has exploded into one of the South’s top craft beer destinations. Asheville alone has often been dubbed “Beer City USA,” but the scene stretches far beyond the city’s borders. From the old mill towns of Burke and Catawba County, to the peaks and valleys of Boone and Bryson City, you’ll find independent breweries serving up lagers, IPAs, stouts, sours, and a whole host of creative small-batch concoctions. Early settlers in these mountains made their own beer—sometimes with what was at hand, like corn or wild apples. Today, many breweries honor that legacy by experimenting with local ingredients, foraging for flavor, and collaborating with local farmers. Breweries here are gathering places, not just for beer but for bluegrass, food trucks, art markets, and fundraisers. It’s the modern equivalent of the village pub—a place where everyone’s welcome. Western NC’s love for craft beer comes to life at festivals, where breweries showcase their best and new fans are born. Hickory Hops (Downtown Hickory, every May) is one of the region’s most celebrated craft beer festivals. Dozens of breweries pour their best for thousands of fans—there’s live music, great food, and a famously friendly vibe. Other can’t-miss events include Asheville Beer Week (10 days of tastings and parties), High Country Beer Fest (Boone), Tryon Beer Fest, and specialty fests like Stout Bout (Asheville) and the Budbreak Wine & Craft Beer Festival (Mount Airy). No matter when you visit, there’s almost always a brew fest, tap takeover, or small-town celebration going on somewhere in the mountains. So raise a glass—because here in western North Carolina, beer really is food for the body and the soul. Your Ultimate Western NC Brewery List Appalachian Mountain Brewery 163 Boone Creek Dr, Boone, NC 28607 www.appalachianmountainbrewery.com Balsam Falls Brewing Company 506 W Main St, Sylva, NC 28779 www.balsamfallsbrewing.com BearWaters Brewing Company 4352 Soco Rd, Maggie Valley, NC 28751 www.bearwatersbrewing.com Boondocks Brewing 302 S Jefferson Ave, West Jefferson, NC 28694 www.boondocksbrew.com Boojum Brewing Company 50 N Main St, Waynesville, NC 28786 www.boojumbrewing.com BrickTree Brewing Co. 414 E Water St, Lincolnton, NC 28092 www.bricktreebrewing.com Burnt Chimney Brewing 187 N Trade St, Tryon, NC 28782 www.burntchimneybrewery.com Cavendish Brewing Company 207 N Chester St, Gastonia, NC 28052 www.cavendishbrewing.com North Carolina's Liquid Bread City Walk Brewing 205 Main Ave NE Suite C, Hickory, NC 28601 www.citywalkbrewing.com Currahee Brewing Company 100 Lakeside Dr, Franklin, NC 28734 www.curraheebrew.com Dry Falls Brewing Company 425 Kanuga Rd, Hendersonville, NC 28739 www.dryfallsbrewing.com Fonta Flora Brewery 317 N Green St, Morganton, NC 28655 www.fontaflora.com Fourth Creek Brewing Co. 226 W Broad St, Statesville, NC 28677 www.fourthcreekbrewing.com Ghostface Brewing 427 E Statesville Ave, Mooresville, NC 28115 www.ghostfacebrewing.com Green Man Brewery 27 Buxton Ave, Asheville, NC 28801 www.greenmanbrewery.com Hi-Wire Brewing 197 Hilliard Ave, Asheville, NC 28801 www.hiwirebrewing.com Highland Brewing Company 12 Old Charlotte Hwy, Asheville, NC 28803 www.highlandbrewing.com Homeplace Beer Company 6 S Main St, Burnsville, NC 28714 www.homeplacebeer.com Innovation Brewing 414 W Main St, Sylva, NC 28779 www.innovation-brewing.com Kettell Beerworks 567 Main St E, Banner Elk, NC 28604 www.kettellbeerworks.com Lake James Cellars 204 E Main St, Glen Alpine, NC 28628 www.lakejamescellars.com Lost Province Brewing Co. 130 N Depot St, Boone, NC 28607 www.lostprovince.com Mica Town Brewing 25 Brown Dr, Marion, NC 28752 www.micatownbrewing.com Mountain Layers Brewing Company 98 Depot St, Bryson City, NC 28713 www.mountainlayersbrewingcompany.com
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35 Newgrass Brewing Company 213 S Lafayette St, Shelby, NC 28150 www.newgrassbrewing.com Olde Hickory Brewery 222 Union Square NW, Hickory, NC 28601 www.oldehickorybrewery.com Oskar Blues Brewery 342 Mountain Industrial Dr, Brevard, NC 28712 www.oskarblues.com Royal Bliss Brewing Co. 7532 Royal Bliss Ct, Denver, NC 28037 www.royalblissbrewing.com Sideways Farm and Brewery 62 E Green St, Morganton, NC 28655 www.sidewaysfarm.com Silver Fork Winery 5000 Patton Rd, Morganton, NC 28655 www.silverforkwinery.com Trailside Brewing Co. 873 Lennox Park Dr, Hendersonville, NC 28791 www.trailsidebrews.com TwoBoros Brewery 816 Main St, North Wilkesboro, NC 28659 www.twoborosbrewery.com Wicked Weed Brewing 91 Biltmore Ave, Asheville, NC 28801 www.wickedweedbrewing.com North Carolina beer is more than just a drink—it’s a reflection of the mountains, rivers, and communities that shape this region. With new breweries bubbling up in every holler and hillside, the best beer might still be the one you haven’t discovered yet. So follow the scent of hops on the wind, ask a local what’s new, and keep exploring.
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Before sorghum syrup became a novelty at festivals and farmers' markets, it was a way of life. For families like ours, it was hard, sticky work—shared across generations, steeped in the scent of woodsmoke, mule sweat, and bubbling sweetness. This is how Granny Eckard remembers it: Our Grandpa made molasses when we were young children. He built a furnace with field rock and turned the mill with his mule. The mill was a crusher with two iron cylinders, about eighteen inches, that rotated into themselves to crush the cane and release the juice. The mule walked round and round all day long. Occasionally, Grandpa would unhook her from her trace and let her rest. We kids loved helping. It was a day of festivities. The adults would strip the fodder from the standing cane, cut it, then heap it in piles for us to cut off the heads. You wouldn't run the seeds through the crusher because of the trash (and we used the seed for next year’s planting and for animal and chicken feed). One harvest time when I was about ten, I was using Daddy's pocket knife to cut the heads and I misjudged—cut a four-inch slit on the outside of my right thigh. I was so upset—not about the blood, but about cutting my only pair of jeans. I knew the cut would heal, but my jeans would be hard to mend. Of course, the scar is still there, but I don’t remember what happened to the jeans. When Grandpa turned the molasses-making over to our dad, he thoroughly enjoyed it as well. He Molasses Memories: A Taste of Sorghum and the Spirit of the Mountains with Granny Eckard
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built his own wood-burning furnace out of brick with a metal roof and a tall chimney pipe. He set his crusher to operate from the engine of his John Deere and welded the copper boiler pan into four or five continuous sections, with gates between each one. The pan nearest the end of the boiler had a hole with a plug. When the last pan was ready to run off, he removed the plug and pushed the finished product out with a wide wooden board on a long handle, into containers. Then he moved the juice in each section forward and added fresh green juice in the first pan. As the fresh juice boiled, it left a foamy green residue that had to be skimmed off and discarded continuously. Neighbors came to help crush, feed the fire, and watch the boiler. Occasionally, Dad would complain— good-naturedly—that some of his help was running the finished product off too soon, and we ended up with a few batches that had a dark green color and a bitter taste. He said it had to be the right syrupiness and bronze color. That furnace required a lot of wood and someone to tend it. You had to keep a constant fire from morning until night, because this wasn’t a process you could stop and start again the next day. It had to be finished, no matter how late it got, how sweaty you were, or how tired your feet felt. Granny Eckard’s memories are more than family lore—they’re part of a much bigger story. Sorghum molasses isn’t just a sweetener in these hills—it’s a piece of our cultural DNA, handed down with care, patience, and plenty of laughter around the kettle.
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Sorghum: The Golden Sweetness of the Mountains When the leaves turn gold and the nights start to nip, you’ll find a certain kind of magic in the hills of western North Carolina: the scent of sorghum syrup bubbling over heat, the slow, steady turning of a mule-powered press, and the laughter of neighbors gathered for a time-honored autumn ritual. Sorghum isn’t just an old-timey sweetener—it’s a living link to mountain tradition, the taste of family breakfasts and a symbol of Appalachian resourcefulness. What Is Sorghum, Anyway? Sorghum is a tall, cane-like grass, originally from Africa and brought to the Southern Appalachians in the 19th century. Unlike sugarcane, it grows happily on hilly, rocky soils—making it perfect for mountain farms. Once mature, the canes are harvested in early fall and squeezed to release a green, grassy juice. This juice is then boiled down, often in big specially constructed pans built over fire, until it thickens into a dark, rich syrup: the sorghum molasses you’ll find on country tables from Murphy to Mount Airy. Don’t confuse sorghum syrup with true molasses, which comes from sugarcane or sugar beets. Sorghum’s flavor is lighter, grassy-sweet, and complex—somewhere between honey and maple syrup, but with a distinct earthiness all its own. By S.A. McCanless circa 1890. By S.A. McCanless circa 1890. Sorghum in Mountain Life For generations, sorghum syrup was the sweetener of choice in these hills, long before white sugar was cheap or common. Mountain cooks drizzled it on biscuits, stirred it into cornbread, and used it to flavor baked apples, gingerbread, and even barbecue sauces. It was poured over pancakes and grits, mixed into stack cake fillings, and stirred into beans for just a touch of sweetness. And the making of that syrup? It was a community event. Neighbors would gather at the farm with the best patch, bringing armloads of cane, baskets of sweet potatoes, and plenty of stories. Children chased each other through the fields while adults took turns feeding the canes through the press. Someone kept the fire going under the kettle, skimming off the foam and stirring with a wooden paddle. And when the syrup was finally ready—dark amber, glossy, and fragrant—there was always fresh cornbread for dipping and a shared sense of satisfaction.
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39 A Tradition That Endures You might think sorghum would fade into the past, lost to store-bought sugars and artificial syrups. But here in western North Carolina, the tradition is alive and well. In autumn, you can still find old-timers and newcomers alike running “cane squeezings” at fall festivals, farmsteads, and heritage days. Local producers like Muddy Pond Sorghum and Stepp’s Hillcrest Orchard keep the old ways going, making syrup that’s sold at farmers’ markets and country stores across the region. The North Carolina State Fair even hosts a sorghum syrup contest every year. Many families still keep a jar on the table year- round, ready to sweeten anything from oatmeal to a cough (a spoonful of sorghum with lemon is a time- honored folk remedy). It’s still the secret ingredient in Appalachian desserts like apple stack cake, gingerbread, and sweet potato pie. How to Eat Sorghum (the Mountain Way) ¤ Drizzled over hot biscuits or cornbread (some folks mix it with butter until it’s creamy) ¤ Poured on pancakes, grits, or oatmeal ¤ Stirred into baked goods—from gingerbread to molasses cookies ¤ Added to barbecue sauces for depth and sweetness ¤ Taken by the spoonful for energy—or to soothe a sore throat If you really want to do it right, take a piece of fresh- baked cornbread, poke a hole in the middle with your finger, and fill it with sorghum syrup. Eat it standing up in the kitchen, grinning like you’ve just struck gold. Sorghum Festivals and Mountain Memories Each fall, towns across western NC—from Andrews to Franklin to Stecoah—host sorghum festivals that celebrate this golden tradition. You’ll find syrup- making demos, tastings, bluegrass music, handmade crafts, storytelling, and all the fellowship that makes these mountain gatherings special. These festivals aren’t just fun—they’re reminders that in the mountains, sweetness is something you work for, something you share, and something you remember long after the jar is empty. If you ever get the chance to taste true Appalachian sorghum, you’ll understand why it’s cherished. It’s the flavor of autumn air, of patient hands and honest work, of the hills themselves. Sorghum isn’t just a syrup—it’s a taste of home, bottled for the winter and savored all year long.
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40 Vines in the Valleys: Discovering NC’s Wine Country Secrets Nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, the Yadkin and Catawba Valleys aren’t just beautiful—they’re wine country, made for those with a sense of adventure and a taste for the good stuff. Here, sunlit days and cool mountain nights create perfect growing conditions, preserving the crisp acidity that gives these wines their signature balance. Come autumn, as leaves turn gold and harvest fills the air, the valleys come alive with energy. The secret? Mineral-rich soils and rolling hills that protect vines from frost and summer heat, allowing grapes to develop rich, consistent flavors year after year. From classic Chardonnay and Cabernet to local favorites like Seyval Blanc and Traminette, there’s a bottle here for every palate—and plenty of creative blends to discover along the way. Wineries Worth the Drive Tucked into North Carolina’s first federally recognized AVA, these vineyards pair stunning views with unforgettable pours. In the Yadkin Valley, you’ll find standouts like these: Shelton Vineyards – One of the largest family-run estates in the state, Shelton offers an idyllic escape with sweeping rows of vines and a standout Cabernet Franc. Their Riesling is a local favorite—bright, floral, and ideal for sipping as the sun dips behind the Blue Ridge. Raffaldini Vineyards – Nicknamed “Chianti in the Carolinas,” Raffaldini transports guests with its Tuscan ‑ style villa, panoramic hilltop views, and old-world varietals like Vermentino and Montepulciano. Childress Vineyards – Founded by racing legend Richard Childress, this expansive estate offers refined takes on Viognier, Merlot, and more. A popular spot for events, it combines southern charm with elevated tastings and beautiful indoor-outdoor spaces. Round Peak Vineyards
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41 Round Peak Vineyards – Just outside Mount Airy, Round Peak offers both estate wines and craft beers, making it a perfect mixed group destination. Their outdoor spaces invite you to linger with a glass of dry Chambourcin or crisp Pinot Grigio, all while soaking in foothill views and soft vineyard breezes. It is shown on this page. And in the Catawba Valley, you'll find several more excellent wineries. We like the following. Lake James Cellars – Set near the lake, this small- batch winery crafts approachable reds and semi-sweet blends from local grapes. Their historic tasting room (inside a restored textile mill) adds rustic charm to every pour. Silver Fork Winery – Perched on a slope in the South Mountains, Silver Fork marries sustainable winemaking with serene views. Sip on dry European- style wines like Chardonnay and Cabernet Sauvignon while lounging under wide Carolina skies. Follow the Wine Trails Set your own pace on the Swan Creek Wine Trail— five celebrated wineries linked by winding country roads and a shared passion for craft. Or, take on the Shallow Ford Wine Trail, where llamas and small-batch Chambourcin add character to every visit. For a taste of the Catawba Valley’s best, hop from Lake James Cellars to Silver Fork and South Creek, sampling the unique styles and hospitality that set each stop apart. Ready to raise a glass in the mountains? These valleys are calling. All you have to do is answer. fine art framing design - installations- gallery 215a 1st Avenue SW Hickory NC 28602 wednesday thursday friday 10 - 5 fanjoylabrenz.com
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Biscuits & Ballads : A Kitchen Pla ylist from the Mountains There’s something about Appalachian music that sticks to your ribs—same way a good pot of beans or a hot biscuit does. It wasn’t just the sound of the mountains; it was the sound of survival, celebration, and everything in between. These songs weren’t written for radio—they were sung on front porches, around woodstoves, and in kitchens where supper simmered low and slow. This playlist is a tribute to those traditions. Every tune here mentions food or drink, from pawpaws and cornbread to mountain dew and mystery suppers. You’ll find playful fiddle tunes, ballads passed down through generations, and a few songs that might make you laugh out loud if you’re listening close. Whether you’re shelling beans, driving down a country road, or just craving a little comfort, these songs will carry you back to a time when folks made music with their hands, their hearts, and whatever instruments they had lying around. Good Old Mountain Dew by The Stanley Brothers Boil Them Cabbage Down as seen on The Andy Griffith Show Old Dan Tucker by 2nd South Carolina String Band The Big Rock Candy Mountain by Harry McClintock Cornbread and Butterbeans by the Carolina Chocolate Drops How Many Biscuits Can You Eat? by the Coon Creek Girls Going Down the Road Feeling Bad by Doc and Merle Watson The Riddle Song by Doc Watson Cindy by Ricky Nelson Shortenin' Bread by the Andrews Sisters Jubilee by Jean Ritchie Cluck Old Hen by Dirk Powell Groundhog by Doc Watson Lord Randall by Jean Ritchie Black Eyed Susie by Ricky Skaggs Way Down Yonder in the Pawpaw Patch by Bryan Chalker and The Road Band To listen, use your phone to scan the QR code in the center of the album above, or go to foothillsdigest. com/foodplaylist. Go ahead—press play, pour some sweet tea, and stay awhile. The table’s set, and the music’s hot.
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Biscuitville: BRINGING THE TASTE OF THE FOOTHILLS TO THE WIDER SOUTH If you’ve ever stepped into a Biscuitville, the smell alone will carry you home. It’s not just nostalgia—it’s flour from Newton, North Carolina, country ham from Wilkesboro, and biscuits made right before your eyes, every 15 minutes, in small batches with a recipe that hasn’t changed since 1966. That kind of consistency, care, and commitment is rare in a fast-moving world. But it’s exactly what makes Biscuitville such a treasure— not just for breakfast lovers, but for anyone who believes in the value of Southern tradition. We recently had the pleasure of visiting one of their locations and taste-testing their classic country ham biscuit, made fresh before our eyes. Watching the biscuit maker at work was a kind of poetry—quick, sure hands working dough that’s simple on paper but magical in execution. Just three ingredients: locally milled flour, fresh buttermilk, and shortening. No shortcuts. No frozen dough. No mystery. Just a hot, golden biscuit served with the salty bite of Carolina-cured ham that tasted like our childhood mornings. The flour used in every biscuit comes from Mennel Milling, a 5th-generation, family- owned mill in Newton, N.C., and the ham is cured in Wilkes County. That’s more than local sourcing—it’s a deliberate choice to ground the company in the land and people that shaped it. And it’s one reason their biscuits don’t just taste good—they taste right.
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The Soul of a Southern Biscuit We asked Biscuitville what makes a biscuit truly Southern. Their answer? Scratch-made, fresh, and authentic. The same qualities our own grandmothers would’ve insisted on. And at Biscuitville, those aren’t just buzzwords. Their biscuit window isn’t a marketing gimmick—it’s an invitation to witness the work. Every 15 minutes, new dough is mixed, rolled, cut, and baked in full view of customers. There’s no hiding behind a heat lamp. You get to watch the biscuits being born. That kind of transparency builds trust, but more than that, it builds connection. Because if you grew up in the Carolinas or Virginia, chances are you have memories of a mother or grandfather making biscuits in the quiet of the morning, flour dust rising like breath in cold kitchen light. Biscuitville honors that. They don’t just serve biscuits—they serve memory, comfort, and home. Stories That Stick Ask anyone who’s lived away from North Carolina for a spell what they miss most, and they might say “Biscuitville” before they say “family.” And when Biscuitville opens a new location, they hear it firsthand. People line up not just for breakfast, but for a slice of home. It’s not unusual for guests to tear up a little when they bite into their biscuit and realize—it really does taste just like mama’s.
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That kind of emotional response isn’t easy to earn. It takes years of consistency, warmth, and a true commitment to community. As their team explained to us, their people are as important as their products. From biscuit makers to support staff to the folks loading trucks at the distribution center, everyone shares in a mission: enhancing lives by serving others. That’s not just corporate speak—it’s a guiding principle that shows up in every smile, every sandwich, every perfectly made biscuit. The Tradition of Southern Foodways Food in the South has always been more than just sustenance. It’s how we tell stories. It’s how we remember who we are. And it’s how we pass down what matters. That’s something Biscuitville understands deeply. Their founder, Maurice Jennings, believed in food made the right way, by people who cared. He built the company with that principle front and center, and nearly 60 years later, his legacy is alive in every kitchen, every flour- dusted counter, and every face at the drive-thru window. They don't just talk about Southern tradition—they embody it. From sourcing locally whenever possible (over 90% of what they serve is local) to keeping their food handmade, Biscuitville is preserving a culture that’s increasingly hard to find in our fast-paced, digital world. We especially love that their flour isn’t just from North Carolina—it’s from a company that shares their values. Mennel Milling has been operating for generations. Their red winter wheat is grown by Carolina farmers and milled with care in Newton, North Carolina, providing Biscuitville with the kind of flour that gives a biscuit its soul. When you taste one, you taste all of that—soil, sun, tradition, and trust.
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47 Biscuitville Today With over 85 locations across North Carolina, South Carolina, and Virginia, Biscuitville is growing—but never outgrowing its roots. Even as they expand, they keep their eyes on what matters: good food, made right, served warmly. It’s not fancy. It’s not complicated. But it’s everything you want it to be. In an era of drive-thru gimmicks and outsourced ingredients, Biscuitville stands out by staying grounded. They haven’t forgotten where they come from, and that shows in every bite. So if you find yourself near one, stop in. Watch the biscuits rise. Smell the ham. Take a moment to remember your own kitchen mornings. And know that some things—thankfully— haven’t changed a bit.
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49 “Don’t whistle in the woods, and don’t let anyone see where you’re picking ramps or morels.” That’s the kind of advice passed down in the mountains of Western North Carolina—part superstition, part survival guide, and entirely sacred. In these hills, foraging isn’t just a pastime or a culinary trend. It’s an inheritance. A mess of greens can carry more weight than a family Bible, and knowing where to dig, when to pick, and what to leave behind is often a matter of trust—earned, not given. Here, food grows wild, tucked between creek beds and beneath tulip poplars, waiting for those with eyes trained to see and hearts raised on mountain rhythm. The knowledge isn’t written down. It’s whispered over boiling pots, shown with a nod toward the tree line, taught by doing. You don’t just learn how to forage—you learn who to ask, what not to say, and how to listen to the land.
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The Ritual of Foraging There’s a certain reverence in the way mountain folks approach foraging. It’s not about chasing trends or stocking a pantry with novelty—it’s about connection. The land gives, but it asks for humility in return. When the snow melts and ramps push through the leaf litter, the excitement is quiet but deep. Wild leeks, with their bold, garlicky bite, are often the first sign that winter’s grip has loosened. But a ramp patch isn’t something you share freely. Families guard their locations like treasure maps, sometimes passing them on only when they’re sure the next generation will harvest respectfully. You don’t take them all. You never pull up a patch by the roots. And you sure don’t tell a stranger where to find them. Poke sallet, on the other hand, is a kind of dare. The plant is toxic if not handled properly—“You gotta boil it at least three times and dump the water each time,” Granny would say, narrowing her eyes like she’d seen what happens if you don’t. Cooked right, though, it’s a rich and earthy green, often scrambled with eggs or cooked down with bacon grease. The process is long, but the reward is that silky, unmistakable flavor. And along the way, stories get swapped, gossip gets passed, and kids learn which leaves to pick—and which to leave alone. These aren’t just ingredients—they’re rituals. They bring people together. They teach patience, observation, and care. The ramp patch, the poke sallet boil, the slow gathering of chickweed or creasy greens—each one is a lesson in how to be part of this place. You don’t conquer the mountain. You work with it. You listen. Foraging as Kinship and Connection In these mountains, foraging has always been about more than food. It’s about trust, memory, and belonging. The knowledge of what to pick, when, and where isn’t written down—it’s handed over in small gestures: a nod toward a shaded hollow, a warning about lookalikes, a shared walk down a familiar trail.
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51 And always, the unspoken reminder: you don’t take more than your share, and you don’t talk too much about what you’ve found. Some patches are passed down like family names. Ramps, ginseng, blackberries—these places are held close, shown only when it’s time, and only to those who’ve proven they’ll treat the land with care. A ramp patch isn’t just a spot in the woods—it’s a bond, a quiet promise between generations that what grows here will still be growing when the next ones come along. Sharing wild food is just as meaningful as finding it. A bag of morels on a neighbor’s porch. A pot of greens carried to someone going through a hard time. A basket of nuts split between households in the holler. These are gifts, but they’re also messages: I thought of you. You’re part of this place. You’re not alone. During lean years—and there’ve been many—these gifts kept people going. Foraging filled the gaps when store shelves were bare or money ran out. And even now, with grocery stores full and fast food on every corner, people still go back to the woods. Still gather, still share. Because in the end, it’s not just about what’s edible. It’s about what endures. The Rhythms of Wild Harvest: A Seasonal Foraging Journey January brings a quiet start to the year, but there’s still food to be found. Eastern cottontail rabbits are in season, often stewed or fried for hearty winter meals. In February, the sap starts to rise, and maple trees offer their sweet gift— collected and boiled down into syrup. This month also yields medicinal finds: usnea lichen for tinctures, pine resin for salves and fire-starting, birch bark for tea or tinder. Wild boar, hunted year-round, is often smoked or turned into sausage. March signals the start of spring’s awakening. Ramps emerge first, their garlicky bite added to everything from sautés to pickles. Spicebush berries and twigs lend themselves to spice blends and tea. Chickweed and cleavers, both early greens, are gathered for salads or herbal tonics, while sassafras roots are dug for tea. Dandelions, too—roots, leaves, and flowers—find their way into a range of uses. Bloodroot is harvested cautiously for skin salves. Oyster mushrooms appear and there are crappie in the creeks, which are fried into golden fillets. By April, the foraging world explodes. Ramps remain abundant, joined by chickweed, cleavers, dandelion, plantain, and violets. Solomon’s seal shoots and greenbrier vines make fine vegetables when young, while sheep sorrel adds a tang to soups. Blue cohosh roots are gathered for women's health remedies. In the woods, turkey tail and morel mushrooms reward the observant. Anglers enjoy brook, rainbow, and brown trout, and wild turkey begins its season. May continues the spring bounty. Wild strawberries and serviceberries
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52 ripen, often gathered for jams. Mayapples ripen cautiously—only the yellow fruit is edible, and even then, in moderation. More greens abound: plantain, sheep sorrel, spicebush, violets, greenbrier, and Solomon’s seal. Cattail shoots, milkweed buds, and turkey tail mushrooms round out the menu. Fish such as crappie, trout, and smallmouth bass are plentiful, and wild turkey remains a seasonal prize. June brings nettles to the table, cooked like spinach. The berry patches begin to fill with ripe serviceberries and wild strawberries. Cattails, milkweed, wild mint, and bee balm all provide food and tea. Coral fungi and reishi emerge in the woods, while ghost pipe and blue cohosh are foraged for their medicinal properties. Yarrow grows in sunny clearings, helpful in wound care and tea. Fishing continues with trout, catfish, bass, and crappie. July is rich with wild flavor. Wineberries ripen on the brambles and are often turned into jam. Mint and bee balm are steeped for tea, while chanterelles, chicken of the woods, and boletes fill foragers' baskets. Coral fungi and reishi continue to appear, and ghost pipe blooms in shadowy hollers. Game like groundhog and squirrel becomes a rustic delicacy. Fish like catfish, bluegill, and smallmouth bass are common in warm waters. Medicinal herbs such as black cohosh and yarrow continue to thrive. In August, wineberries linger, joined by elderberries—both prized for syrup and jelly. More mushrooms emerge, including puffballs, lobster mushrooms, chanterelles, and chicken of the woods. Boletes fill baskets for drying or sautéing. Reishi mushrooms are still gathered for decoctions. Fish like bluegill and catfish continue to bite, and groundhog remains a traditional Appalachian meat. September ushers in the pawpaw harvest—custard-like fruit that tastes of banana and mango. Mushrooms like lobster, chicken of the woods, hen of the woods, black trumpets, lion’s mane, puffballs, and cauliflower mushrooms flourish. This is also the time for roots: ginseng and goldenseal are carefully dug for their medicinal value. Gray squirrel is hunted as fall begins to turn. October continues mushroom season, with lion’s mane, cauliflower mushrooms, and hen of the woods. Sassafras root and spicebush twigs make warming teas. Wild fruits like persimmons and rose hips are ripe for syrup and pudding. Nuts fall in abundance: hickory, black walnut, beech, and acorns (after leaching). Oyster mushrooms flourish in cool moisture. Big game season opens with deer, black bear, and small game like squirrel and raccoon. In November, persimmons sweeten with frost, and rose hips, hickory nuts, black walnuts, and beech nuts provide rich sustenance. Acorns, once leached, are ground into flour. Hunters pursue deer, bear, turkey, rabbit, squirrel, raccoon, and even opossum—often baked with sweet potatoes, a seasonal tradition. Finally, December closes the year with hunting season in full swing. Deer and rabbit continue to fill the larder, preserving Appalachian food traditions that stretch deep into winter.
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53 Tools, Ethics, and Traditions of Appalachian Foraging Foraging in the Appalachian Mountains is more than gathering food—it’s a relationship with the land, passed down through generations with reverence and respect. Long before “wildcrafting” was trendy, mountain folks were digging sassafras roots, harvesting ramps, and tapping birch for tea with nothing but a knife, a basket, and stories carried in memory. Today, ethical foraging means honoring those traditions. Never take what you can’t confidently identify— look-alikes like false morels or water hemlock can be deadly. Harvest only what you need, never the whole patch, and always replant when gathering roots like ginseng or goldenseal. These habits, born of humility, protect our wild bounty for the next generation. The best foragers are quiet observers. They know when the light hits the holler just right, when mushrooms follow certain blooms, and which side of the hill holds more moisture. The woods leave clues—if you know how to read them. Just as vital as knowing where to look is knowing who taught you. Appalachian foraging has long followed matriarchs, moon phases, and mountain wisdom. It’s shaped by survival and celebration, passed down through boiled pokeweed and front-porch stories. To forage here is to remember where you came from—and to walk the land like you belong. The Woods Still Give The Appalachian Mountains have always known how to take care of their people. Long before supermarkets and supply chains, the forests, hollers, and ridgelines fed families with berries, roots, greens, and game. That knowledge—how to see a hillside as a pantry, how to walk the woods with purpose—still lives here. You can find it in the careful hands of an elder boiling poke, in a child plucking blackberries from a bramble, or in the way a neighbor slides a jar of sumac jelly across the table without a word. Foraging isn’t just a skill; it’s a way of belonging. It teaches us patience, discernment, and deep attention. It connects us to the seasons, to our ancestors, and to the land beneath our feet. And in times when the world feels uncertain, it offers something steady: the wild still grows. The woods still give. Whether you’re new to foraging or have done it your whole life, the act of gathering is an act of hope. It’s a promise to keep learning, to tread lightly, and to pass it on. Because these hills aren’t just beautiful— they’re generous. And if you treat them right, they’ll keep feeding you.
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54 Bob Timberlake NC Food Retrospective Interview, Table, Different Art
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55 Sittin' Down to Eat with "Food is the only thing that truly nourishes." Those words are carved right into the table we’re sitting at—a wide, beautiful surface covered in quotes about food and memory. Many of the words belong to Bob Timberlake himself. Others come from his wife, his children, his grandchildren, and the friends he’s gathered around this table over the years. It’s more than a place to eat—it’s a living archive of a life well fed. We’ve come to talk with Bob about food, which might not be the first subject you’d expect to explore with North Carolina’s most beloved artist. But it should be. Because when Bob Timberlake talks about food, he’s really talking about home. About family. About the land. About the seasons that shape his appetite, his imagination, and the paintings that have become part of the state’s cultural heartbeat. Here in Lexington, where barbecue smoke hangs in the air and blackberries ripen alongside memories, Bob Timberlake is still following the rhythm of nature—eating what the earth gives, when it gives it. And as we talk, it becomes clear: the same instincts that guide his brushstrokes guide his meals. Taste Buds Trained by Carolina Soil “I go by the seasons,” Bob says, as naturally as if it were written into his DNA. “Always have.” And it shows—in the way he eats, the way he talks, and certainly in the way he paints. His work carries the rhythm of North Carolina’s landscape: snow-covered barns, spring blossoms, baskets of summer fruit, blackberries drooping from fence posts. These aren’t just scenes. They’re seasons you can taste. Bob’s appetite, like his art, is tuned to what’s growing. When cherries are in, he craves them. When blackberries burst from the bramble, he remembers picking them as a boy—with snakes in the bushes and June bugs flying up out of nowhere. But when tomatoes start coming in? Everything else takes a backseat. “I’m a tomato nut,” he says, laughing. “There’s every kind of tomato—little ones, big ones, big ol’ fat ones. Slice one thick, slap it on white bread with a slab of mayonnaise and let it run down your arm. That’s living.” He doesn’t just look forward to that first sandwich—he plans for it. One year, he worked hard to grow his tomatoes late enough to enjoy one on Christmas Day. “They weren’t big,” he said, “but they were mine.” He told us how he grows them in pots, careful with the sunlight. “The ground gets so hard, I keep 'em where they only get a couple hours of sun.”
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And while he loves eating tomatoes fresh from the vine, it’s Kay’s baked tomatoes that bring it all home. The recipe—originally passed down from Isobel Craven and perfected by Kay Timberlake over the years—is now a staple in their kitchen. It’s simple, classic, and deeply comforting: slice tomatoes in half, scoop a little from the center, and place a teaspoon of finely chopped onion in each. Sprinkle with salt and pepper, then spread on a mixture of mayonnaise and sour cream. Top with Parmesan and a dash of paprika, bake at 325 for 10 minutes, then broil until lightly browned. It’s summer in a dish—just the kind of timeless, no-fuss food Bob treasures most. Bob doesn’t just eat by the season—he feels it. “You crave what the land gives you,” he says. “That’s just how it works.” He talks about the way fresh vegetables leave their mark—okra juice on your hands, tomato seeds on your shirt, cherry juice on your fingertips. Every food comes with a memory. Every season has its flavor. And for Bob, those tastes are tied up in the people he’s shared them with, across decades of homegrown meals and hand-picked ingredients.
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Through the breadth of his work, Bob’s love of North Carolina’s harvest is unmistakable. You can see it in the sagging weight of blackberry vines, in the quiet glow of a tomato left on a porch railing, in the shape of baskets that look like they’ve just been set down. These aren’t just still lifes—they’re lived moments. His paintings don’t romanticize the land; they honor it. You can feel the dirt under the fingernails, the weight of the season in every brushstroke. In food, as in art, Bob doesn’t just show what’s beautiful—he shows what’s real, and what sustains us.
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58 Lexington Barbecue: The Sacred Meal We’ve been lucky enough to share a few meals with Bob Timberlake over the years, but no matter how many options we consider, we always seem to end up at the same delicious spot: the Barbecue Center. “That’s number three,” Bob says, grinning. “Lexington’s got the number one and number three barbecue joints in the world. I hate to say we don’t have number two,” he adds, laughing, “but that’s what they say—Lexington Barbecue’s number one, and then the Barbecue Center.” For a man who’s traveled the world and dined in some impressive places, Bob Timberlake still holds a chopped pork tray from Lexington with the kind of reverence usually reserved for fine art. And when it comes to the details, he’s particular in the best way. The sauce should be thin and tangy with just the right amount of tomato. The pork should be shoulder, hickory-smoked and chopped—not pulled. And the slaw? It should be red. Always red. The first time we ordered white slaw with our tray, Bob reacted like we’d committed a cardinal sin. He clutched his chest and stared like we’d asked for ketchup on a hot dog in Chicago. “You can’t do that,” he said, half-shocked, half-teasing. We changed our order immediately, and he was absolutely right. The red slaw, tangy and vinegar- kissed with a hint of tomato, completes the plate. It’s not a side item—it’s part of the story. Bob doesn’t just love barbecue. He "If barbecue were a religion, than it may very well be that Lexington is the cathedral." Bob Timberlake
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lives in a place where it shapes the culture, where whole generations have measured time and celebration by whose pit is smoking. “Barbecue is the hit thing around here,” he said. “And it's huge, to tell you the truth.” There’s pride in his voice when he says it, but also familiarity. This isn’t trend-chasing cuisine. This is tradition, slow and smoky and rooted in North Carolina clay. Whether we’re sitting down for lunch with Bob or just trading stories over a sweet tea, barbecue always finds its way into the conversation. And with Bob, it's never just about the food. It’s about community, about ritual, about knowing what’s good and sticking with it. Around here, that means picking the number three joint on purpose—and ordering it exactly the right way. Every fall, the whole town fills with smoke and sound for the Lexington Barbecue Festival— one of top 5 largest one day food festivals in the country. “We have 200,000 people come,” Bob told us. That’s no exaggeration. The streets close, the pits fire up, and generations of families gather for what can only be described as a sacred event. It’s not just about barbecue— it’s about belonging. And Bob Timberlake has become as much a fixture of the festival as the hushpuppies and sauce. For years, he’s partnered with Richard Childress of Childress Vineyards to create a limited-edition bottle of “Fine Swine Wine,” released only for the festival. Each year, Bob designs a new label, drawing from the same well of humor, warmth, and regional pride that defines his art. Fans line up to get their bottles signed, and Bob and Richard are there, pen in hand, greeting folks like old friends. The wine itself is crafted to pair with barbecue, but it’s the label that turns it into a keepsake— something to take home and remember the flavor of the day. Since 1990 2613 N Center St, Hickory (828) 323-8477 kellyandcompanysalon.com Use this QR code to book your appointment! If your hair’s not ready, you’re not ready. Let Kelly’s finish the look.
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61 From the Land For Bob Timberlake, food doesn’t only come from a shelf. It comes from the land—from the woods, the water, the garden, the trees. It’s gathered, caught, grown, or hunted. And that connection— to the source of his meals—shows up in his paintings just as clearly as it does in his freezer. Take Cherry Picker , for instance. The scene is simple: a hand-woven basket filled with ripe cherries, and a small bird darting in for a snack. But there’s movement in it. A story. The cherries are plump, still warm from the sun, and the bird isn’t stealing—he’s sharing. The image speaks to the way Bob sees food: not as something separate from nature, but as something that belongs to it. Something we’re lucky to take part in. Cherry Picker is just one example. Bob has painted countless images of fruit in baskets—strawberries, apples, blackberries—always with a sense of immediacy, as if they’ve just been picked and set down for a moment. Blackberries show up again and again in his work, often still clinging to the vine or left hanging on a weathered fence post. It’s become part of his visual language—his iconography. These aren’t decorative details; they’re rooted in memory. In Bob’s world, a basket of fruit isn’t just beautiful—it’s familiar, seasonal, and real. It’s part of the land he knows and loves, and it tells a story that doesn’t need words. That same spirit extends into the woods. Bob Timberlake is a proud hunter, and he speaks about it with the kind of reverence that only comes from a lifetime of doing
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it right—ethically, patiently, and with deep respect for the land. For him, hunting is about more than bringing something home. It’s a tradition, a practice, and a way of staying close to the rhythms of the natural world. “It’s just part of who we are,” he told us. That “we” matters—because Bob doesn’t hunt alone. He’s passed down the craft to his kids and grandkids, taking them out into the field the same way his own elders did with him. There’s pride in teaching them not just how to shoot, but how to listen. How to wait. How to know the land well enough to move quietly through it, and to know when to stop and simply take it all in. When he talks about turkey hunting, his eyes light up. “It’s so exciting that it’s almost scary,” he told us. “You’ll find a place that just looks so turkey-looking that you just stare and stare at a single spot because you want to see one so badly. Then you blink, and when you open your eyes there’s a turkey staring back at you.” That thrill—the way stillness turns into electricity, the moment when instinct and place collide—is what keeps him going back out into the woods. Hunting, for Bob, is not about conquest. It’s about connection. It’s about being fully present, aware of every twig snap and birdsong. It’s about honoring the animal and the land. And like everything else in his life, it’s about doing it with intention—passing it on, cooking it well, and remembering it forever.
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64 And then there’s fishing. Bob loves the coast and the mountains equally, but when it comes to fishing, it’s the quiet pull of a mountain stream that calls to him most. He’s a fly fisherman, through and through. We had the chance to go fishing with him once, and we watched him pull a beautiful rainbow trout from a cold, clear creek. It wasn’t about the size of the fish—it was the satisfaction of being present, of doing something the old way, of working with the land instead of against it. "Some men fish all their lives without knowing it is not really the fish they are after." Henry David Thoreau
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65 His art reflects this love, too—just like the painting of two rainbow trout, their bodies still glistening with light. At his gallery, he cooks up trout for lunch on a regular basis. His freezer, he told us proudly, is full of fish and game— saltwater and freshwater, turkey and striper, caught and cleaned with his own hands. Salt and Memory: Oysters Not all of Bob’s favorite foods come from the m o u n t a i n s . S o m e come from the coast— specifically, from the marshes and salty edges of North Carolina’s shorelines. And of all those coastal treasures, oysters reign supreme in his heart. “I love oysters. I always have, my whole life,” he told us, his voice carrying the same warmth he uses to talk about old friends. “There’s something about the saltiness, or how they smell like the marsh, that can transport you to the coast.” It’s a sensory connection as strong as any smell of woodsmoke or fresh-picked tomatoes— something that pulls you across space and time with a single bite. Bob doesn’t dress them up too much. He doesn’t need
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to. In fact, carved into his table is "Naked oysters are the best. BT" Whether they’re fried crisp in a pan, served raw with a little lemon, or tucked into Kay’s famous oyster casserole, the magic is in their simplicity—and their rootedness in place. They taste like tidewater, like dock boards and cold mornings, like a memory that lingers in the back of your throat. To love oysters the way Bob does is to love the coast— not just as a destination, but as part of who you are. For a man who’s painted every corner of this state, it’s no surprise that he can conjure up a salt marsh just by describing a flavor. Oysters aren’t just food. They’re geography. They’re story. If you want to know what Bob Timberlake loves to eat, all you have to do is sit down at Timberlake’s Restaurant at Chetola Inn in Blowing Rock. The menu there isn’t just inspired by him—it is him. From the way the food looks on the plate to the ingredients chosen for each dish, you can taste his influence in every bite. You’ll find mountain trout, of course—sometimes pecan-crusted, sometimes grilled with herbs. You’ll find seasonal vegetables, fresh berries, and the kind of simple, elegant comfort food that reflects both the land and the man. But if you really want to eat like Bob, start with the oysters. Fried golden and served with just enough crispness to make them sing, they’re a tribute to the coastal side of a life deeply lived across North Carolina’s varied terrain. In the end, Bob Timberlake’s relationship with food is the same as his relationship with art—with home, with family, with North Carolina itself. It’s seasonal, honest, deeply rooted, and full of stories. Every tomato he slices, every fish he fries, every oyster he savors is more than a meal—it’s a memory. A moment. A way of honoring where he comes from. On the table where we first sat down—wide, weathered, and carved with memory—one quote rises above the rest:
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“It was not a Southern watermelon that Eve ate. We know because she repented.” It’s funny, yes—but also quietly reverent. Because in Bob Timberlake’s world, food isn’t sin. It’s salvation. In one of his paintings, a stack of green watermelons leans against an old fence, ferns curling at their base. They haven’t been sliced open. There’s no red, no sugar revealed. Just ripeness held in stillness. It’s not about the taste—it’s about the waiting. The knowing. The promise of sweetness just beneath the surface. That’s how Bob paints. That’s how he eats. That’s how he lives. Through every brushstroke, every recipe, every fish pulled from a creek or oyster slurped from the shell, Bob Timberlake reminds us that food is more than fuel. It’s the way we mark time. The way we love each other. The way we stay rooted, even when the world moves fast. To sit at his table is to hear the land whisper. To walk through his gallery is to smell blackberries and woodsmoke. And to share a meal with Bob Timberlake—well, that’s something you carry with you. Like a story. Like a painting. Like a summer tomato, still warm from the sun.
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68 The Flavors That Define Us
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69 Here in North Carolina, we grow more than just food—we grow flavor, heritage, and a deep sense of place. From the Blue Ridge Mountains to the rolling foothills, the products made here tell a story. They reflect our resourcefulness, our love of the land, and our stubborn insistence on doing things right, even if it takes a little longer. Whether it’s spicy mustard that makes your nose tingle, jam that tastes like it was made by someone’s grandma on a foggy morning in Fairview, or cookies that trace their lineage to centuries-old Moravian ovens, these foods aren’t just local—they’re exceptional. Some of these brands you’ve probably heard of. Others might be new to you. But every single one is worth tasting, keeping, and coming back to. These are our favorites. Cheerwine – Salisbury, NC No drink says “North Carolina” quite like Cheerwine. Born in Salisbury in 1917 during a sugar shortage, it was created by L.D. Peeler, who found a way to make a cherry-flavored soda that was rich in taste without requiring extra sweetener. Over a century later, Cheerwine is still family-owned and still bottled in the heart of the Piedmont—but its reach has grown far beyond. You’ll find it in gas stations from the Carolinas to California, but it always feels like ours. Cheerwine isn’t just a cherry soda—it’s the cherry soda. Deep red, fizzy, and full of flavor that’s bold but not syrupy, it lands somewhere between nostalgic and rebellious. The taste is unmistakable: dark cherry with a hint of bite, just enough fizz to tickle your tongue, and a finish that makes you reach right back for another sip. There’s nothing watered-down about it—this is soda with backbone. Cheerwine has long leaned into its regional identity with pride. Their cherry-tinged collaborations over the years—including Cheerwine ice cream, slushies, and even Cheerwine-flavored BBQ sauce—speak to just how iconic the flavor has become. There’s even a Cheerwine Festival held each year in Salisbury, drawing crowds from all over the state to celebrate the drink that made their town famous. It’s more than a brand—it’s a piece of culture. And around here, we don’t just drink Cheerwine. We celebrate it. Mustard with a Kick: Lusty Monk Mustard – Asheville, NC Lusty Monk doesn’t tiptoe around flavor—it charges at you, jar first. This is mustard with purpose, and you’ll know it the moment you crack the lid. Made fresh in Asheville, Lusty Monk is stone-ground, full-bodied, and unapologetically spicy. You have to keep it refrigerated to preserve that signature bite,
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70 which is all part of the charm. This mustard doesn’t fade politely into the background—it shows up and stays loud. We’ve got a photo featuring their holy trinity of heat: “Original Sin” (coarse and classic), “Into Temptation” (a honey mustard with sass), and “Burn in Hell” (chipotle-packed and not for the faint of tongue). Each one delivers a different kind of kick, and frankly, we love them all. Lusty Monk is one of those rare condiments that can elevate a sandwich, a pretzel, or even a piece of grilled meat into something memorable. It’s not just mustard—it’s a conversation starter. A dare. A flavor worth refrigerating. Practical and Flavorful: Harmony House Foods – Franklin, NC There’s something deeply satisfying about having a shelf full of food you trust—especially when it’s made with as much care as the freeze-dried vegetables from Harmony House Foods. Tucked away in Franklin, in the southwestern mountains of North Carolina, this company has quietly become one of the best-kept secrets for home cooks, backpackers, preppers, and anyone who wants real food that lasts. We’re showing a photo of some of their staples: carrots, corn, peas, onions, bell peppers—bright, beautiful, and shelf-stable for years. What sets Harmony House apart is the quality. Their freeze-dried produce doesn’t feel like survival food—it feels like cooking food. You open a jar and the smell hits you right away: real celery, real onion, real pepper. It’s not mushy. It’s not bland. It’s just ready when you need it. They also make soup mixes, chili blends, and even plant-based meat substitutes, which are surprisingly good—especially when time is tight and the pantry’s running low. But even if you’re not preparing for the end of the world, these ingredients make everyday cooking easier. We regularly toss their freeze-dried onions and celery into soups, stews, and skillet meals. No chopping, no waste, and the flavor is richer than fresh in some cases—more concentrated, more intense. It’s like someone took all the water out but left the soul of the vegetable behind. What makes this especially North Carolina is the
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71 mindset behind it—resourcefulness, plain and simple. This isn’t about cutting corners, it’s about being ready. In a region where canning, storing, and "putting back" have always been part of mountain life, Harmony House just takes that tradition into the modern age. You don’t need a root cellar or a smokehouse to eat well year-round—just a few jars from Franklin and a good soup pot. For folks looking to build a pantry that lasts—or just streamline weeknight cooking—Harmony House delivers. It’s not flashy. It’s not trendy. But it’s smart, dependable, and deeply rooted in the kind of quiet practicality that defines life in the mountains. Not Just for Biscuits: The Bold Fruit of Imladris Farm There’s jam, and then there’s Imladris Farm jam—the kind that stops you mid-toast and makes you close your eyes for a second. Made in the quiet mountain town of Fairview, just outside Asheville, these preserves don’t taste like they came from a factory. They taste like they came from someone’s backyard—because in many cases, they did. We’re showing some of their greatest hits: Best Berry Jam, Raspberry Jam, Apple Butter, Blueberry Jam, and Blackberry Jam. Every jar is packed with flavor so rich and concentrated, it feels almost indulgent. These aren’t overly sweet or smoothed-out. They’re textured, bold, and honest—like the fruit itself. The Apple Butter tastes like it was simmered all day on a woodstove. The Blackberry Jam has a deep, winey tang that clings to your tongue. And the Best Berry Jam? It earns the name. What sets Imladris apart is the care they take at every step. The fruits are grown without harsh chemicals, the batches are small, and the recipes let the ingredients speak. You won’t find fillers or shortcuts—just ripe fruit, pure cane sugar, and enough old- fashioned know-how to make your biscuits feel like they’re being served on grandma’s china. The farm itself is nestled in the rolling hills of Fairview, where the cool nights and warm mountain days do something special to the fruit. You can taste that difference. These aren’t strawberries grown in a giant flat field and picked green—they’re mountain berries, ripened on the vine, kissed by fog, and picked with care. There’s a wildness to the flavor, like the edge of a blackberry bush you passed on a hike and just had to reach for. Jars from Imladris make excellent gifts, but we’ll be honest—most of the time we just keep them for ourselves. A spoonful on hot cornbread, stirred into yogurt, or layered on a grilled cheese with sharp cheddar? There’s nothing better. It’s the kind of pantry staple
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72 that turns ordinary meals into something special. And once you try it, you’ll understand why we always keep at least one jar on hand—just in case we need a little taste of the mountains. That mountain flavor is no accident. Imladris works with a small network of local farms across Western North Carolina to source their fruit. Stepp's Plants, Etc. in Flat Rock provides blueberries, raspberries, and blackberries. Carolina Berries in Hendersonville adds even more blackberries to the mix, while Creasman Farms, also in Hendersonville, supplies the apples. Their strawberries come from SMM Farm in Hayesville. In total, Imladris supports at least four other local farm families, and their close relationships mean you can trace your jam straight back to the fields and orchards of the Blue Ridge. It’s more than good business—it’s a local food economy that tastes as good as it feels. A Slice of History: Dewey’s Bakery – Winston-Salem, NC Dewey’s Bakery isn’t just making cookies—they’re carrying on a tradition that’s been part of North Carolina for centuries. Founded in Winston-Salem in 1930, Dewey’s traces its roots to the Moravian settlers who brought their meticulous baking techniques to the region in the 1700s. And while the bakery has grown and modernized, the soul of those early recipes is still alive in every paper-thin cookie they make. These aren’t just any cookies. Dewey’s Moravian cookies are impossibly crisp—rolled so thin you can practically see light through them—and full of bold, concentrated flavor. That’s part of what makes them so special: they don’t rely on extra sugar or fillers. What you taste is what was carefully chosen. Ginger that tingles your tongue. Lemon that tastes like sunshine. Chocolate that lingers. In our photo, we’ve got some of their best-loved flavors on proud display: Triple Ginger, Meyer Lemon, Dark Chocolate, Vanilla, and Brownie Crisp. Each one hits a little differently, and honestly, it’s hard to pick a favorite. The ginger is warm and peppery. The lemon is bright and clean. The brownie has that just-baked richness that somehow works even when it’s wafer-thin. It’s the kind of treat that sneaks up on you—you think you’ll eat just one, and suddenly the box is half gone.
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73 Beyond the cookies, Dewey’s has made itself a cornerstone of holiday traditions across the state. From Moravian sugar cake to cheese straws and seasonal tins, their goods are wrapped in nostalgia for many North Carolina families. Some of us grew up with Dewey’s boxes on the table every December, alongside candles, oranges, and pine. Others are just discovering them now—but the experience is the same: these aren’t just sweets, they’re stories you can eat. This isn’t mass-produced junk. It’s heirloom baking made for modern shelves—and we’re lucky to have it made right here in the Triad. The Famous Favorites: North Carolina’s Household Names Some flavors are so tied to North Carolina that they’ve become part of our collective story. We’d be remiss not to acknowledge the brands that grew up alongside us—rooted in local kitchens, county fairs, and Sunday breakfasts. Whether it’s a hot Krispy Kreme doughnut melting on your tongue, a skillet sizzling with Neese’s Country Sausage, the tang of Mt. Olive Pickles at every picnic, a splash of Texas Pete Hot Sauce on greens or grits, or the unmistakable citrus bite of an ice-cold Sun Drop— these aren’t just products. They’re heirlooms, passed down not through bloodlines, but through taste, tradition, and time. They remind us that the Appalachian table isn’t just full. It’s unforgettable.
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75 The Mountain Wedding Cake Apple stack cake may be the most iconic dessert in Appalachian kitchens—a tall, layered “show ‑ off” cake rich with spiced apples and steeped in mountain tradition. A Cake Built by the Community This cake isn’t just dessert—it’s heritage. Originating in the Southern Appalachians, especially western North Carolina, Tennessee, and eastern Kentucky, the apple stack cake traveled with Scots-Irish settlers who brought dried fruit traditions and a knack for resourcefulness. Traditionally, families baked 6 to 8 thin, biscuit-like layers, each about the size of a dinner plate. These were stacked with a thick, cinnamon-spiced filling made from dried apples. The whole cake would sit overnight to soften and meld—becoming deeply fragrant, tender, and sweet. Mountain lore says apple stack cake became the “wedding cake” of the hills because fancy cakes were too expensive. So, guests would each bring a layer, and the bride’s family made the filling—a community ‑ built confection that symbolized sharing and celebration. Still a Staple of Appalachian Gatherings Today, apple stack cake appears at fall festivals, church dinners, and family reunions—still sometimes at weddings. While variations abound (apple butter vs. dried apples, soft vs. crisp layers, spice or no spice), the spirit remains the same: patience, tradition, and togetherness. Want to try it yourself? It’s not quick—but it’s worth every bite. Traditional Apple Stack Cake Apple Filling • 2 lbs dried apples • 1½–2 cups sugar • 1½ tsp cinnamon • ½ tsp ginger • ½ tsp allspice or cloves • 4–5 cups water Cake Layers • 1 cup sorghum molasses • 1 cup sugar • 2 eggs • ½ cup butter • 1 cup buttermilk + 1 tsp baking soda • 1 tsp baking powder • ½ tsp salt • 4–5 cups flour • 1 tsp vanilla (optional) Make Filling: Simmer apples in water until soft (20–30 min). Drain, mash, add sugar and spices to taste. Make Dough: Cream butter, sugar, eggs, molasses. Add buttermilk/soda, dry ingredients, mix to soft dough. Bake Layers: Divide into 6–7 rounds, roll ¼ inch thick, bake at 350°F for 10–12 min each. Assemble: Spread apple filling between layers. Wrap tightly and let sit overnight. Serve: Slice thinly. Best on day two or three. Enjoy with black coffee. Apple Stack Cake:
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aged to perfection The story of North Carolina 's cheese You can learn a lot about a place from its cheese. In North Carolina, the story it tells is one of hard work, heritage, and a deep respect for the land. From sharp cheddar to tangy chèvre, our cheeses reflect mountain air, pasture grass, and the steady hands of small-scale makers who still do things the old- fashioned way—or in some cases, reinvent the old ways entirely. A North Carolina Classic For generations, Ashe County Cheese in West Jefferson has been the beating heart of mountain dairy. Established in 1930, it holds the title of the oldest cheese plant in North Carolina, and for nearly a century, it has provided farm-fresh cheeses to locals and travelers alike. The plant is located right in the heart of downtown, where you can peek through large windows in the viewing room to see curds being stirred, pressed, and cut into blocks just like they’ve done for decades. Watching the process is half the fun—but the tasting is where the magic happens. Inside the shop next door, you'll find an impressive spread: sharp hoop cheese wrapped in wax, buttery mild cheddar, creamy spreads, smoky cheese bars, and their ever-popular fresh cheese curds, which squeak when you bite into them. While Ashe County Cheese ships statewide and shows up in farmers markets and small groceries across western North Carolina, there’s something about getting it straight from the source that makes it even better. It’s more than a place to buy cheese—it’s a cornerstone of West Jefferson’s identity, a blend of tradition, tourism, and everyday life. Locals stop by for a snack just as often as visitors do, and kids press their faces to the glass to see how their food is made. It’s a place where North Carolina’s dairy story is preserved and proudly shared with anyone who walks through the door.
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A Modern Appalachian Tradition While Ashe County keeps one foot firmly in the past, other makers are shaping the future—none more boldly than Blue Ridge Mountain Creamery in Fairview. This isn’t a relic of some European monastery. It’s the work of local cheesemaker Victor Chiarizia, who fell in love with traditional French and Swiss cheeses and brought their techniques home to the Blue Ridge. Knowing that the best cheeses—like Roquefort and Comté— are aged in limestone caves, Victor carved a climate- controlled cave right into the side of the mountain. Inside, wooden shelves cradle wheels of blue cheese, tomme, and other styles as they slowly ripen in the cool, damp air. The cave isn’t just for atmosphere—it transforms the cheese, infusing it with wild mountain microflora that give each batch a distinct character. The result is a flavor that’s deeply earthy, complex, and entirely of this place. It’s the kind of cheese you remember. The kind that blooms on the tongue with layers you can’t quite describe— something floral, something nutty, something that tastes like the Blue Ridge in September. No two wheels are exactly alike, and that’s the point. Each bite reflects the grasses the cows grazed on, the air that moved through the cave, the slow and steady work of time. This is Appalachian ingenuity in its purest form: rooted in the land, shaped by hand, and aged with intention. Don’t Miss: A Lexington Favorite Not every iconic cheese in North Carolina comes from a creamery in the mountains. In downtown Lexington, Conrad & Hinkle Food Market has been quietly making some of the state’s most beloved pimento cheese for generations. Since 1919, this family-owned grocery store has been a fixture of Main Street, and their pimento cheese—made fresh daily right in the deli—has developed a devoted following. It’s creamy, tangy, just the right amount of sharp, and entirely Southern. They ship it all over the state, but there’s something extra special about tasting it in the place where it’s made. If you’re anywhere near Lexington, it’s worth making a detour. Step inside the store and you’ll find old wood floors, friendly faces behind the counter, and a pace of life that feels a little slower—in the best way. In a world dominated by big box chains and self-checkout kiosks, Conrad & Hinkle is a breath of fresh air: warm, personal, and deeply rooted in its community. And if you're lucky, you might just bump into Bob Timberlake himself, stopping in to grab his groceries and chat with neighbors about good eatin’, as he’s done for decades.
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The WNC Cheese Trail: Eight Stops, Infinite Flavor Blue Ridge Mountain Creamery isn’t just a standout—it’s part of a growing network of dedicated artisans who make up the official WNC Cheese Trail, a self-guided journey through some of the region’s finest farmsteads and creameries. Each stop offers a unique expression of Appalachian cheesemaking, from creamy chèvres to raw- aged wheels, all handcrafted with care and intention. In Marshall, you’ll find Spinning Spider Creamery (1), a family-run goat dairy known for its award-winning chèvre and bloomy rind cheeses. Tours are by appointment only, but the drive through the East Fork Valley is as rewarding as the cheese itself. Just down the road is Lane in the Woods (2), a micro- dairy and permaculture haven where goats, gardens, and good food coexist in harmony. Their cheeses reflect a deep connection to the land, and visits must be scheduled in advance. Round Mountain Creamery (3) in Black Mountain invites you to book a private tour and meet their Alpine and LaMancha goats, whose milk becomes delightfully tangy, small-batch cheeses. In Columbus, Looking Glass Creamery (4) offers a slightly more structured experience—open Thursday through Sunday—where you can taste and shop cheeses like their buttery “Bear Wallow” and their bright “Carmine.” In Vale, Blue Goat Dairy (5) offers preorder pickup for their limited-run goat cheeses. While they don’t host regular tours, their cheese is available at farmers markets and select local pickups. French Broad Creamery (6) in Leicester is housed at Mount Gilead Farm and offers tours by appointment—just call ahead to confirm location and hours. Of course, Blue Ridge Mountain Creamery (7) in Fairview remains a star of the trail. As one of the few U.S. creameries aging cheese in a hand-carved cave, it offers something truly special: deep, terroir-driven flavors that can’t be rushed or replicated. Friday tours are by appointment only, and they fill up fast for good reason. Reliable home care since 1992 Call Dudley’s Home Care today! (704) 799-3363 DUDLEYSHOMECARE.COM
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Rounding out the trail is White Tree Farm (8), a newer addition located in the foothills but firmly rooted in sustainable practices. Their small herd of goats produces rich milk for cheeses made in microbatches— and tours, like most on the trail, are by appointment only. Each of these stops reflects a different face of Western North Carolina cheese. Some are tucked into mountain hollers; others sit wide open in pastoral fields. Some are open to the public a few days a week, while others require a little extra planning. But every one of them tells a story—and every bite brings you closer to the land it came from. Whether you're watching cheese curds take shape in West Jefferson, walking into a hand-carved cave in Fairview, or chatting with neighbors at a deli counter in Lexington, you’re experiencing a region that takes pride in what it makes. This isn’t cheese designed to travel the globe— it’s cheese made for those who know the land, who appreciate the difference, who slow down long enough to taste it. Bring a cooler. Make an appointment. Take the back roads. Because around here, the best things don’t come fast—they come aged. That’s the heart of it: this cheese, like much of Appalachian food, reflects the rhythm of the land itself. It’s shaped by patient hands, by people who understand the value of a season, a cellar, and a story. It’s not flashy, and it’s not mass-produced. It’s local on purpose, made in small batches, with roots deep in the soil and culture of western North Carolina. So take your time. Talk to the makers. Stand barefoot in the grass if you get the chance. Taste something real and remember it. Because in these hills, the best bites don’t just fill your belly—they connect you to a place, a people, and a way of life that refuses to be rushed.
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What Is Livermush, Anyway? Let’s clear up the basics: Livermush is a savory loaf made from pork liver, pork head meat, cornmeal, and a secret blend of spices. The whole mix is cooked, packed into a loaf pan, chilled until firm, and then sliced and fried up crispy in a pan. Livermush’s roots run deep in North Carolina’s food history, especially in Cleveland, Rutherford, and Burke counties—where you’ll find whole festivals devoted to the stuff. In fact, the official North Carolina Livermush Festival is held each fall in Shelby, complete with live music, contests, and as many livermush sandwiches as you can handle. Why Do People Love (or Fear) It? It’s a classic example of Appalachian thrift: using every part of the hog, never letting a scrap go to waste. For some, the very word “livermush” is enough to send them running. The secret, though, is in the preparation. Fried until crispy on the outside and creamy in the middle, livermush is salty, savory, and packed with flavor. It’s typically served on a biscuit, with eggs, or—if you’re feeling bold— with a swipe of yellow mustard. Locals defend it with the same fervor some folks reserve for barbecue sauce or college football teams. The first time you try livermush, you might hesitate. The second time, you’ll find yourself craving it. By the third time, you’re defending its honor to out- of-towners and wondering why you can’t get it at McDonald’s. A True Southern Story Livermush was born out of the “use-it-all” ethos that shaped Appalachian cooking. Hogs were butchered in the fall, and the head and liver were ground together with cornmeal—the cheapest, most filling grain around. Spices, onions, and sometimes sage or pepper were added for flavor. The result was an inexpensive, hearty food that could feed a crowd on a shoestring budget. Don’t confuse livermush with liver pudding (softer, more spreadable, often includes rice) or scrapple (penned in Pennsylvania, with more spices and less attitude). Real livermush has a devoted fan base and its own regional identity. Livermush: The Mountain Breakfast You Never Knew You Needed If you wander into a small-town diner in western North Carolina and see “livermush” scrawled on the chalkboard menu, don’t panic. Nobody’s playing a prank on the tourists. Around here, livermush isn’t just a breakfast food—it’s a point of pride, a rite of passage, and arguably the most misunderstood block of meat in the South.
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Jesse Onekhena, DMD, MD Alex Krisko, DMD, MD Bishal Johal, DDS, MD
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82 Southern Food & Sensibilities: Southern Food & Sensibilities: Cranford Cranford Hospitality Hospitality
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If anyone understands the way people eat in the Foothills of North Carolina, it’s the Cranford family of Cranford Hospitality. We sat down with Zackary at Cranford Brothers Barbecue to talk food, family, and how local flavor can evolve without losing its soul. Cranford Hospitality isn’t a chain—it’s a homegrown collection of restaurants shaped by a deep love for the Hickory community. It’s built on tradition, driven by vision, and grounded in one core idea: give people something familiar, but make it better than they remembered. Zackary Cranford, who leads the family-run company alongside his parents, Kent and Lisa, and brother Tucker, doesn’t just talk about food—he talks about experience. “It’s so much more than just food,” he told us. “It’s the perceived value—the food, yes, but also the experience you have, and the setting you’re in. All of those things have to blend together. That’s the challenge.” Cranford Brothers Barbecue If there’s a single place that captures the heart of the Cranford vision, it’s Cranford Brothers Barbecue. This is where the roots run deep, the smoke hangs in the air, and the food tells a story before you ever take a bite. It's the kind of spot where Hickory folks gather for milestone meals and casual lunches alike—because it’s not just about feeding people. It’s about feeding a culture. The building itself feels like part of the Southern landscape: a mix of rustic charm and clean, modern touches. You’ll likely catch a whiff of smoked meat before you even open your car door—hickory wood and tradition drifting out back where the pit crew works low and slow. Inside, the vibe is casual, unpretentious, and full of life. There’s a rhythm to the place that’s hard to fake. Folks linger at tables. Glasses clink. Laughter settles in. The food is the centerpiece, and rightly so. The pulled pork is tender with just the right bark, the brisket is smoky and rich, and the ribs fall off the bone without losing that perfect chew. Every meat is smoked with intention, never rushed. Sauces strike a fine balance—sweet heat, vinegar tang, mustard bite—all tuned to enhance, not overpower. The dry rub is house-made, deeply seasoned, and nuanced enough that the meat doesn’t need sauce at all… though you'll probably try all of them anyway. “Barbecue is a big part of our culture in North Carolina,” Zackary said. “But we didn’t just want to recreate what already existed—we wanted to honor it, elevate it, and make it our own.” That philosophy shows up on every plate, and especially in the sides—which are far from an afterthought. They’re a reason to come back all on their own. The queso mac and cheese is rich, velvety, and packed with just enough kick. The collard greens are stewed low and slow, deeply seasoned and smoky. Cheesy apples add a surprising, nostalgic twist—warm, sweet, and savory all at once. You’ll find Southern staples like sweet potato casserole, corn casserole, potato salad, charro beans, and a hashbrown casserole that could pass for breakfast or dinner depending on your mood. And don’t sleep on the slaw—offered in both citrus white and red vinegar styles—it’s crisp, fresh, and cuts perfectly through the richness of the meats. And then there are the pickled treats—an ever-changing bonus that shows up like a gift from the kitchen. One day it might be pineapple, another day onions or cucumbers. They’re tangy, unexpected, and just plain fun.
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These are sides that hold their own—and help round out a meal that’s as much about comfort as it is about craft. Cranford Brothers Barbecue is the kind of place you bring your out-of-town friends when you want to say, "This is how we do barbecue in Hickory." But it’s also where you go on a Tuesday just because you’re craving something real. It’s not fancy. It’s not fussy. But everything is done with care, precision, and heart. “We try to push boundaries where we can,” Zackary said. “But this place is also about grounding people. It’s a place you can count on.” From the smoked meats to the side dishes to the laughter echoing off the walls, Cranford Brothers Barbecue isn’t just a restaurant. It’s a love letter to North Carolina food, written in fire, smoke, and flavor. Main Chicks: Big Biscuits and Bigger Ideas In their newest venture, the Cranfords took on a Southern staple—and went big. Main Chicks is all about oversized, cathead-style biscuits, baked square in iris shoe trays, and stacked high with creative, comfort-forward toppings.
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“These aren’t your traditional round biscuits,” Zackary explained. “They’re fluffy, hearty, and full of character. Some folks call them ‘cathead biscuits’ because they’re just that big.” Biscuit meals range from $5.50 to $9 and pack enough punch to keep you full all day. It’s classic Southern food with bold modern twists—and it shares space with a brewery and distillery, where beer styles range from easy-drinking to adventurous. “We wanted something for everyone, wherever they are on their craft beer journey,” Zackary said. “It’s the same approach we take to food—approachable, but creative.” Main Chicks feels like a playground for flavor—and it’s quickly becoming a favorite for those looking for something different that still feels like home. September 13, 2025 CranfordHospitality.com
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Granny’s Country Kitchen: A Classic with a Loyal Following While Main Chicks is bold and new, Granny’s is where it all began—humble, comforting, and deeply rooted in Southern tradition. With three locations, Granny’s serves up eggs, grits, biscuits, meat-and-threes, and classic diner fare done the right way. “Granny’s was our start,” Zackary said. “A quality diner, quick service, low price point. We wanted to give people that feeling of something familiar, something steady.” The food is straightforward—but never lazy. Everything on the plate has been thought through and cared for. You won’t find reinvented wheels here—just good food, served fast, priced fairly, and loved by generations of locals. It’s a place where you can walk in any day of the week and see neighbors, co-workers, and kids fresh from school, all digging into something that tastes like it came from their own kitchen. Charolais: A Birthday to Remember When our 14-year-old asked for “the best steak in town” for his birthday, we didn’t even think twice. We booked a table at Charolais, and the experience didn’t just live up to the hype—it exceeded it. The food was impeccable. The service was kind and unhurried. We left feeling deeply taken care of. Charolais is Hickory’s premier steakhouse, with prime cuts, elegant plating, and a wine list that means business. But the atmosphere isn’t pretentious—it’s refined but approachable, luxurious but welcoming. “That one was a statement project,” Zackary told us. “It’s right in the heart of everything. It has a big footprint and allowed us to show what we can do.” Charolais is where Cranford Hospitality shows its polish. Whether you’re celebrating a milestone or just want to treat yourself, this is where you go to feel special. “We try to design for both,” Zackary said. “We ask—would my dad be happy here? Would a college kid fresh out in the world feel like they belong too? That balance is what we always aim for.”
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Standard Oyster Company: A Taste of the Coast in the Foothills Last but never least is Standard Oyster Company, the sleek and stylish seafood spot that brought something entirely new to town. “When we opened Standard, it kind of confused people,” Zackary laughed. “We went from diner food to fresh oysters—it was a big leap.” But that leap landed. Standard Oyster now draws people from all over the region for oysters shucked right at the bar, seafood towers, and dishes that feel both coastal and contemporary. The energy is lively, the cocktails are crisp, and the menu hits that rare sweet spot between adventurous and comforting. “You don’t have to drive to Charlotte or Nashville anymore,” Zackary said. “We’ve got great food right here. And we’re proud to be part of that shift in Hickory.” What sets Standard apart isn’t just the food—it’s the experience. One of the most popular features is the front-facing oyster window, where guests can watch oysters being shucked in real time. It’s a small detail, but it says everything about the place: fresh, transparent, and a little bit showy—in the best way. Whether it’s a first date over crudo or a table of regulars passing around peel-and-eat shrimp, the atmosphere strikes that rare balance between casual and elevated. It feels like the kind of place every town wants to have—but Hickory actually does. And that’s something worth celebrating. A Culture Built on Food, Family, and Forward Motion At the heart of Cranford Hospitality is a family— Zackary, his parents, and his brother—who work together every day. They don’t assign titles or chase hierarchy. They just figure it out together. “We don’t have formal roles—no one’s CEO or CFO,” Zackary said. “We just know what we’re good at and get it done. It’s a team.” They’ve built their team the same way—people who bring something new to the table. Ben Sullivan, their
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culinary director, brings not only strong cooking chops but also rare back-end skills like menu planning, cost analysis, and operational strategy. “He’s got a rare mix of creativity and structure,” Zackary said. “We can do fun events, wine dinners, and trial concepts—and he’s also solid in Excel. That’s huge.” As Cranford Hospitality grows, they’re constantly thinking about how to stay connected to the people they serve. They've also added City Walk Brewing and City Walk Distilling to their offerings. “We try to push the boundaries—as far as our community will let us,” Zackary said. “But it has to feel authentic. It has to feel like Hickory.” He’s also aware of the realities that come with running restaurants in an uncertain economy. “We try to be as mindful as we can,” he said. “But we’ve got to pay our people, pay rent. So we raise prices incrementally, with care. We never want to surprise our guests.” And as the Hickory food scene continues to evolve, Cranford Hospitality plans to stay in the thick of it—not just to feed people, but to challenge them. “If you can get someone out of their comfort zone—get them to try something new, and they love it—that sticks with them,” Zackary said. “That’s how food scenes grow. That’s how communities grow.” Zackary Cranford, Ben Sullivan and Tucker Cranford
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COSMETIC, IMPLANT AND COMPREHENSIVE DENTISTRY (828) 328-5581 221 13th Ave Pl NW, Hickory 94% of people agree that a person's smile is the first thing they notice.
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90 THE LOW AND SLOW BBQ SHOW: Chigger Willard’s Mission to Preserve Carolina Barbecue Stories When Michael "Chigger" Willard launched the Low and Slow BBQ podcast, his goal was simple: put a spotlight on the people behind the pits. “In a lot of ways, some of these traditions are starting to erode and disappear,” he says. “I wanted to capture their stories—how they came to barbecue, their techniques, their recipes, and how it all fits into the bigger tradition of Carolina barbecue.” Nearly 100 episodes later, Willard has done exactly that. His guests range from seasoned whole hog pitmasters steeped in generations of tradition to newcomers blending Texas brisket, Korean marinades, or even Costa Rican flavors into the Southern barbecue canon. “I’m not here to draw lines about what’s ‘real’ barbecue,” Willard says. “What you like is what you like. My job is to show people what’s out there and how barbecue is evolving.” The podcast isn’t just a rambling conversation. Drawing on his radio background, Willard keeps things structured and intentional. “It’s a 30-minute program. I like to think of it in three parts: tell me about your business, meet the pitmaster, and then advice and reflections—what keeps your fire burning. It’s focused so listeners know exactly what they’re getting.” That focus has earned Low and Slow BBQ a dedicated audience. While most listeners are in North Carolina, downloads are coming in from across the U.S. and even overseas. “I crossed the 10,000-download mark earlier this summer,” Willard says. “I’ve even got listeners in India, Australia, Spain—it’s wild. There might just be one person in England tuning in, but it still blows my mind.”
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91 Willard’s journey into Carolina barbecue started with a love for the food, but along the way, he became a student of its history. “Growing up in Alabama, I ate a lot of barbecue, but I probably didn’t have a great knowledge of its roots. Now I’ve connected with barbecue historians and done a lot of reading. I’ve learned how North and South Carolina really shaped what barbecue looks like for the rest of the country. It started here.” His personal favorite? “I always go back to Lexington-style barbecue,” he admits. “I like the tomato-based dip and red slaw. But I don’t have a problem with Eastern-style whole hog with a straight-vinegar pepper sauce. It really depends on the day.” Beyond the podcast, Willard runs a blog and a weekly newsletter aggregating barbecue news, food truck schedules, and events across the Carolinas. He’s built partnerships with festivals like the Carolina Barbecue Festival and Pinehurst Barbecue Festival, giving him access to some of the state’s most celebrated pitmasters. “Those partnerships have really opened doors for me,” he says. He’s also tried a few out-of-the-box episodes— like a blind pork taste test featuring six local joints and the hosts of the 3 Beers Down podcast. “We got orders from all the big places around here— Cranford, JD’s, Hughes Q, Apple City. Then we sat down and tasted them all and voted on a winner." As Low and Slow BBQ grows, Willard keeps his focus on the pitmasters and the culture they sustain. “At the end of the day, I’m trying to honor these folks and make sure their stories don’t get lost. Barbecue is evolving, sure, but it’s still about community, tradition, and love.”
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92 Walking into Frothy Rooster feels like stepping into the kind of café every downtown wishes it had. Sunlight pours through the tall front windows, warming a space that strikes a perfect balance between modern polish and comforting charm. Sleek lines meet soft textures, and every design choice feels thoughtful—from the art-lined walls to the curve of the chairs that invite you to linger just a little longer. “Those chairs,” says Sallie Long with a laugh. “I can’t tell you how long it took to pick them out. Every detail matters to us because we want people to feel something when they walk in. It’s not just about food—it’s about creating a beautiful experience.” As marketing director for Imagine One, Sally helped guide the vision for this downtown gem. “Hickory is growing, and we want to be part of that growth in a way that celebrates beauty, arts, and culture. That’s where it starts for us.” The space embodies that philosophy, with a subtle sophistication that never feels unapproachable. It’s the kind of place where you could bring a laptop and stay for hours, or meet a friend for a quick coffee and end up ordering lunch. Natural wood accents warm the space, while soft lighting and carefully chosen finishes give it an understated elegance. Even the color palette—earthy yet bright—seems designed to lift your mood. But aesthetics are only part of the story. Frothy Rooster’s menu is where that vision truly comes to life. Designed to span the entire morning and into early afternoon, it offers something for everyone—from early risers needing a grab-and-go breakfast to brunch lovers savoring a long, lazy meal.
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“We’re a breakfast, coffee, and lunch café,” Sallie explains. “You can swing by at 7 a.m. for a quick coffee and bagel or come in later to enjoy a hearty brunch. Either way, you’re going to get fresh, nutritious, and really flavorful food.” At the heart of that menu are the bagels—flown in from New York City twice a week. “We get our bagels handmade in New York and delivered to us within two days,” says Executive Chef Matt Baldwin. “It really makes a difference when you start with a product that’s that good. You just can’t replicate that kind of chew and flavor.” Regional flavors weave seamlessly into the menu too. One standout is the country ham—Daniel Boone’s Country Ham, smoked in the heart of the Blue Ridge Mountains, whose rolling peaks rise just beyond Hickory’s horizon. “It’s those little details,” Matt says, “that make a dish feel rooted here. We’re not just serving breakfast; we’re serving a sense of place.” Matt, who has been the executive chef at Frothy Rooster for just over a year, brings a thoughtful, community- focused approach to every plate. “We use as many local ingredients as we can,” he says. “Microgreens from a local farmer, specials inspired by what we find at the farmers market—anything that helps us support the people around us and keep the menu fresh.” It’s not just the ingredients that make the restaurant special—it’s the culture behind the scenes. “We really pride ourselves on creating a wonderful environment for our staff,” Sally says. “From front to back, we want this to be a place people love to work.” Matt echoes the sentiment. “I don’t want anyone working here who doesn’t want to. If it’s not working out, let’s not force it. But here, I think my staff would tell you—they’re happy. And when you’ve got a team that loves what they do, that shows in the food and the service.” That sense of joy and care spills out into every interaction, making Frothy Rooster a place that feels personal in a world of chains. It’s the kind of spot where the barista might remember your favorite drink, where the chef is often visible in the open kitchen, and where you get the sense that every decision was made with love for this community. And that love isn’t confined to one style of cuisine. Just next door, Imagine One has created a very different kind of restaurant.
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If Frothy Rooster feels like a cozy morning in the foothills, Cowa-Sake is its sleek, vibrant evening counterpart. Just a few steps away, this Japanese fusion and sake bar transforms the energy entirely, swapping the sunlit charm of brunch for a moody, big-city vibe that makes you forget, for a moment, that you’re still in Hickory. Opened two years ago, Cowa-Sake was designed to feel like a destination—a place where every detail matters, from the glow of the lighting to the artistry on each plate. The team here isn’t just serving food; they’re curating an experience. “We want people to walk in and feel transported,” says Chef Inthavong (TK to his regulars). “It’s about making every guest forget where they are for a little while.” That sense of escape begins with the menu, a carefully balanced mix of Japanese tradition and inventive fusion. The offerings feel at once familiar and delightfully unexpected. Think hand-rolled dumplings that change weekly, their delicate folds concealing vibrant, flavorful fillings. Sushi rolls arrive as edible art, each one crafted with such precision that it feels almost too beautiful to disturb. Premium selections showcase torched wagyu, flash-fried lobster, and playful bursts of tobiko—tiny jeweled orbs that seem to glow in the dim light. Even the classics are elevated here; a spicy tuna roll is brightened with togarashi spice, while a shrimp tempura base gets draped with snow crab and nori flakes for a luxurious finish.
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But the magic doesn’t stop with sushi. The menu wanders boldly into fusion territory with creations like fluffy steamed buns filled with pork belly or Peking duck, kimchi fried rice crowned with a sunny-side egg, and wok-fired Mongolian beef that delivers rich depth in every bite. There’s even a playful nod to American comfort food in the burgers, each one built on a Pat LaFrieda chuck and short rib blend and finished with unexpected toppings like tempura avocado or gochujang barbecue sauce. Diners are treated not just to flavors, but to moments of theater. Tableside grilling brings A5 wagyu or skewers of lemongrass shrimp to life over binchotan coals, releasing a heady aroma of smoke and spice into the air. Nearby, flames dance as banana spring rolls are flambéed, drawing applause from neighboring tables. It’s a dining experience that engages all the senses—sight, smell, sound, and taste combining to leave a lasting impression. That vision started long before the restaurant opened. Imagine One Hospitality’s Director of Culinary Standards, Chef Fred Julius, hired and trained Chef TK for a year at sister concepts while the finishing touches came together here. “I wanted to help bring something new to Hickory,” TK says. “Something that felt fresh, creative, and exciting.” The commitment to quality runs deep, but it’s the creativity that keeps guests coming back. Every dish reflects a balance of discipline and whimsy, from the intricate sashimi platters to bowls of pickled Thai cucumbers arranged like tiny bouquets. Even the simplest elements—steamed rice, a side of edamame— arrive perfectly executed, garnished with thoughtful touches that turn humble ingredients into something memorable. “We’ve got talent on the line,” TK says. “We all work together to get creative and make beautiful food that tastes as good as it looks.” The atmosphere pulls in a diverse crowd. On any given evening, you’ll see Gen Z friends snapping photos of their sushi, young couples leaning close over sake flights, and seasoned regulars lingering over dumplings and cocktails. Everyone seems equally at home. “We treat the last guest as special as the first,” TK says with a grin. “Birthdays, anniversaries, first dates—we go out of our way to make it memorable.” At Cowa-Sake, hospitality is more than a promise. It’s a philosophy that’s felt in every interaction, every artfully arranged plate, every carefully crafted cocktail. And in this little corner of Hickory, it’s easy to believe you’ve stepped into another world.
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96 Out here in western North Carolina, we’ve learned the hard way that it pays to be prepared. When a storm rolls in fast or the power goes out for days, you don’t want to be the one standing in an empty grocery aisle wondering why you didn’t put back a little extra. It’s not about panic—it’s about peace of mind. And truth be told, our grannies knew that better than anyone. Back then, nobody entered winter without shelves lined with canned beans, dried apples, and stacks of firewood. The root cellar wasn’t a novelty—it was insurance. A good cellar meant your family ate, no matter what. And while we’ve all gotten used to the convenience of supermarkets and fast delivery, that convenience can vanish quick when the roads close or supply chains stutter. Somewhere along the way, though, the word prepping picked up baggage. These days, say it out loud and some folks picture bunkers, camouflage, and muttering about the end times. But that’s not what it means here—not in Valdese, not in the hollers, and not in the homes where old lessons still hold. Being prepared doesn’t mean you’re paranoid. It means you’re paying attention. Storms are stronger. Power outages last longer. Supply chains are stretched thinner than ever. Whether it’s a blizzard, a boil notice, or a jackknifed truck on I-40, it only takes one disruption to remind us how fragile convenience really is. And that’s why the old ways still matter. Our ancestors didn’t call themselves preppers. They just put up food. Saved seeds. Fixed what broke. They didn’t rely on the system—because there wasn’t one to rely on. That mindset? It’s still worth holding onto. Doesn’t matter if you live on a mountain homestead or a split-level outside Morganton—if you eat, drink, and need warmth, you’ve got a reason to prep. So where do you start? We headed to Valdese to meet Johnny and Melinda Odom, the husband-and-wife duo behind Prep N Ready. Their shop isn’t built on fear—it’s built on know-how. From freeze dryers and first aid to folk medicine and good sense, they’ve created a little hub of practical wisdom and better gear. And the first thing they’ll tell you to do? Leave. (More on that soon.) Because in the end, this isn’t about fearing the worst—it’s about honoring what our people already knew: that if you care for the land, and care for each other, you’ll never truly be without. Our Cellar’s Still Full: Remembering Old Ways for Trying Times
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97 Visiting Prep N Ready: Local Experts, Straight Talk If you’re new to all this and wondering where in the world to begin, let us introduce you to Johnny and Melinda Odom. They run Prep N Ready in Valdese, and talking to them feels less like meeting survival experts and more like sitting down with a smart cousin who knows a whole lot about staying ready for anything. Their shop is packed wall to wall with the essentials—shelves of shelf-stable foods, water filtration gear, first aid supplies, and tools for just about every “what if” you can think of. There’s even a freeze dryer in the back you can rent by the hour if you want to preserve your own meals or garden haul. But beyond the gear, what really stands out is how much knowledge is on offer. Johnny’s got a wealth of experience when it comes to preparedness—from how much rice a family needs for three months to the nitty-gritty of emergency water storage. Melinda, on the other hand, brings deep knowledge of herbal medicine, and she lights up when talking about natural remedies and old-time Appalachian plant lore. Between the two of them, they’ve got answers to questions you didn’t even know to ask. And if you want to learn more, just check the bookshelf. They stock a wide range of titles—from how-to guides to classic Appalachian references—and even sell a thumb drive loaded with thousands of pages of survival resources. We’re talking the full text of the Foxfire books, The Anarchist Cookbook, manuals on dental care, water filtration, foraging, farming, wildcrafting—you name it, it’s probably on that drive. “We send folks away first,” Johnny said, grinning. “They come in here asking what they need, and we tell them: go to Sam’s Club. Get your big bags of rice, beans, peanut butter, salt. Start with food. That’s your foundation.” He laughed, but he meant it. “If you haven’t got food, you don’t need fancy gear. You need calories.” They’re not trying to sell fear. They’re trying to sell self-reliance, one step at a time. And standing in that little shop, surrounded by practical tools and time-tested knowledge, you start to realize—this isn’t about bracing for the end of the world. It’s about being able to take care of your people no matter what comes.
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Food: Your Most Reliable Insurance Policy If there's one thing you absolutely can't go without, it’s food. And when it comes to prepping, this is where most folks should start. We’re not reinventing the wheel here—this is the way mountain families have always done it. Your granny put up beans in mason jars, strung up apple slices to dry, and filled root cellars with potatoes, kraut, and preserves. She didn’t wait for trouble to knock—she put back food in times of plenty so her family was taken care of in times of need. You can still do the same, using a mix of time-tested tradition and new technology. If you’re looking for something that will truly last, Prep-N-Ready stocks 25-year shelf-stable food buckets and bags—perfect for building long-term reserves that require little upkeep. These aren’t just bags of rice and beans (though you’ll want some of those too)—these are complete meals, sealed to last for decades. Just add hot water and eat. They’re lightweight, easy to store, and could be a literal lifesaver in a true emergency. Once reserved for NASA and big commercial outfits, freeze dryers have finally hit the home market—and Prep-N-Ready sells those too. With a home freeze dryer, you can preserve nearly anything from your garden or kitchen (with the exception of very fatty foods like butter or bacon, which don’t freeze dry well). You can turn summer squash into crunchy chips, soups into lightweight packets, and strawberries into sweet, dry snacks your grandkids will fight over. Even better? Freeze-dried food lasts up to 25 years when properly stored, just like the commercial stuff—but you’re the one choosing what goes in. If you’ve got a garden, some local produce, or even a big haul from the farmers market, nothing beats home canning. You can control the ingredients, use what’s in season, and build a pantry that truly reflects how your family eats. We recommend canning jams, fruits, pickles, meats, beans, soups and vegetables. Invest in quality mason jars, good lids, and a reliable canner, and you’ll be following the same rhythm that’s fed Appalachian families for generations. Can in summer, eat in winter. Repeat forever. Even as you build up your long-term stash, don’t overlook everyday dry goods. You want calories, variety, and foods your family already eats. Rice, beans, oats, flour, cornmeal, sugar, salt, pasta, dried fruits, shelf-stable dairy, peanut butter, canned meats and hearty soups will provide a solid foundation. Label what you store. Rotate through it. Use what you store and store what you use. Tip: Johnny recommends starting with enough dry goods to feed your family for a month. Then build to three. It’s more manageable—and it keeps you from wasting money on things you won’t eat.
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Water: Always Plan in Threes Johnny didn’t hesitate on this one: “If you don’t have clean water, nothing else matters.” And he’s not wrong. You can survive weeks without food—but only a few days without water. It’s one of the first things to plan for, and one of the most important to get right. And when it comes to water, Johnny has a firm rule: three redundancies. That means three ways to get it, clean it, and store it. Why? Because filters break. Jugs leak. Chemicals run out. A good plan has backups for its backups. You have a myriad of options, so be sure to choose at least 3 of these: • Stored water. Keep at least one gallon per person per day for drinking, cooking, and hygiene. Multiply that by how many days you want to be covered. Store it in clean jugs, stackable containers, or food-grade barrels. • Filtration. Gravity-fed filters, personal straws, and pump filters all have their place. Prep-N-Ready carries a wide variety— from quick backpack-style systems to large filters for families. • Purification. Unscented bleach, water purification tablets, iodine drops. These are small but powerful tools that can sanitize water when boiling isn’t an option. You don’t have to store a swimming pool's worth of water—but you do need a layered plan. If the taps stop running or the water isn’t safe to drink, you’ll want to be ready. That means a jug on the shelf, a filter in your go-bag, and a little bottle of bleach tucked away in a drawer. Fire: The Other Rule of Three Fire means heat, light, hot food, boiled water, and even signaling in an emergency. It’s one of the oldest tools we’ve got—and still one of the most useful. Here’s a smart three- part approach: • Fast flame: Lighters, waterproof matches, butane torches • Reliable backup: Ferro rods, magnesium blocks, flint strikers • Easy fire starters: Cotton balls in petroleum jelly, wax- coated lint, commercial tinder tabs Practice using all three. Knowing how to make a fire under pressure is just as important as having the gear. Heat • Dress in layers—thermal base layers, sweaters, and a good coat help when temperatures drop inside. Wool blankets insulate even when damp, and cold- rated sleeping bags can turn a chilly room into a cozy retreat. • Hand warmers keep fingers and toes comfortable, while propane or kerosene heaters can warm small spaces—just use proper ventilation and follow safety guidelines. • Don’t overlook old-school tricks: fill hot water bottles for bed, lay rugs on floors, hang blankets over doors and windows, and close off unused rooms to keep heat where it matters.
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100 Cooking Without Power If the grid goes down, you’ll still need to cook. Here’s what works: • Camp stoves (with fuel) • Charcoal or wood-burning grills • Rocket stoves or fire pits • Cast iron pans and manual can openers Melinda reminded us: “A hot meal can settle nerves just as much as it fills stomachs.” First Aid & Herbal Medicine In a crisis, the last place you want to be is the ER. • Basic supplies: Bandages, gauze, antiseptic, gloves, tweezers, ice packs • OTC medicines: Pain relievers, allergy meds, etc. • Specialty needs: Glasses, inhalers, etc. And here’s something folks often forget: medication. If you or someone in your family takes a daily prescription, you should try to keep a backup supply on hand. Whether it’s for blood pressure, diabetes, asthma, thyroid, pain, or mental health—anything you’d miss dearly if it ran out, you should consider part of your prep. Tip: Talk to your doctor about getting an extra 30- or 90-day supply for emergencies. And don’t sleep on what the land offers. Melinda is a treasure trove of herbal knowledge, with remedies that have been passed down through generations—elderberry, comfrey, mullein, yarrow. She stocks not just the herbs, but the know-how too. Check the Prep-N-Ready Facebook page to see their current class offerings. Power: Because the Dark Gets Real Dark When the power goes out in these mountains, it really goes out. No streetlights. No glowing screens. Just dark. That’s why Johnny and Melinda always recommend having multiple ways to light your home—and to keep some power flowing for basic needs. • Flashlights and headlamps (with extra batteries) • Lanterns for soft room lighting • Solar chargers or crank-powered options for phones and small devices • Battery banks fully charged and ready • If you have the budget, a generator that can be powered by gas or propane is a great investment, as is a solar inverter. You don’t have to light up the whole house—just enough to cook, move around safely, and keep spirits up when the night stretches long. Curious about what you've missed in previous issues? You can read all 28 of our back issues online at foothillsdigest.com foothillsdigest.com by clicking "READ" in the menu.
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101 Important Papers • Print Important phone numbers • Local maps Protection: Planning for Peace of Mind This part can be sensitive, but it’s important. Emergencies can bring out both the best and worst in people, and while we’d all hope to never face a situation where safety is an issue, it’s wise to prepare just in case. Some folks choose to have tools for self-defense—whether that’s pepper spray, legal firearms, or simply reinforced locks and lighting systems. What matters is that you’ve thought it through, that you’re trained in what you use, and that your setup aligns with your values and local laws. Johnny put it simply: “It’s better to have a plan and not need it, than need it and not have one.” Whatever you choose, the goal is the same: to keep your family safe, calm, and in control of your space when the outside world feels uncertain. Bonus Round – Beyond the Basics Once you’ve got food, water, heat, and medical supplies covered, it’s time to think about the next layer of preparedness. These aren’t the things that get all the headlines, but they can make a world of difference when the unexpected rolls in. Communication When the Grid Goes Down If the power’s out, the cell towers are down, and the internet’s gone quiet… how are you going to stay informed? This is where old-school tools come in handy: • Hand-crank or battery-powered radios can pick up NOAA weather updates and emergency broadcasts. • HAM radios are a big step up—allowing licensed operators to communicate across long distances even in total blackout scenarios. Johnny and Melinda can help point you to gear that’s beginner-friendly if you’re curious about getting your license. • Walkie-talkies work well for short-range communication, especially on family property or within neighborhoods. Tip: Practice with these devices before you need them. In an emergency, confusion wastes time. Faraday Bags & Grid-Down Concerns This might sound like science fiction, but it’s not: electromagnetic pulses (EMPs)—whether from a solar flare or man-made attack—can fry electronics in an instant. It’s not the most likely scenario, but it’s not impossible either. That’s where Faraday bags come in. These specially lined pouches
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or containers block electromagnetic signals and can protect things like: • Two-way radios • Flash drives • Backup phones • Portable solar chargers • USB drives loaded with survival documents (like the one Johnny sells—full of books, guides, and knowledge) Cash in Hand, Gas in the Tank Another simple rule: don’t count on the card reader working. Keep some cash tucked away—small bills, enough to fill your tank or pick up essentials. Make it a habit to never let your gas tank drop below half. That extra cushion might be the difference between getting out of a jam or being stuck in one. These are small, quiet habits. You won’t notice them—until they save you. Sanitation It might not be glamorous, but sanitation is important. When the power’s out or the water’s off, it doesn’t take long for things to get… unpleasant. And in a real emergency, bad hygiene isn’t just uncomfortable—it can make you sick. Bathroom Needs: • Bucket toilet or camp toilet (Boxio is great) • Heavy-duty trash bags, ties, kitty litter or sawdust Toilet paper, wipes, feminine products • Hand sanitizer & biodegradable soap Personal Care: • Toothbrush/paste, deodorant, shampoo/dry shampoo • Bar soap (Irish Spring repels ticks) or castile soap • Washcloths, lip balm, lotion, nail clippers, brush • Razor & shaving cream (if needed) Cleaning & Laundry: • Disinfectant spray or bleach, paper towels, cleaning cloths • Gloves (nitrile/rubber), wash basins or tubs • Laundry soap, plunger/bucket system, clothesline Even if you can’t take a proper shower, you can stay clean with a rag, a basin of warm water, and a bar of good soap. Comfort Matters: Don’t Forget the Heart Morale matters too. Add: • Warm blankets, books, board games, dice, playing cards, books • Coffee, tea, cocoa • Battery fan (summer) or extra socks (winter) Kids, Pets & Elders: The Extras That Aren’t Extra Every household is different, and your prep should reflect the people (and creatures) you love. The goal here isn’t survival in the abstract—it’s caring for your people, exactly as they are. Over the course of a few days, watch to see what items you need to make it through the day. Take notes, and prepare accordingly. Advertisement Available $700 Editor@foothillsdigest.com 828.475.1323
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Don’t Prep Alone: Community is Your Greatest Asset One of the smartest things you can do for your family’s safety has nothing to do with gear—and everything to do with people. In any real emergency, your neighbors are your first responders, your backup plan, and sometimes your only lifeline. Johnny and Melinda said it best: “Don’t prep in isolation.” You don’t have to announce every item you’ve tucked away—but you should know who lives around you, and what you might be able to offer each other when things get tough. We all saw this firsthand during the aftermath of Helene. When the roads were blocked and the outside world couldn’t get in, it wasn’t FEMA that showed up first. They couldn't get in—it was your neighbor with a chainsaw. Your cousin with extra gas. The folks from church checking door to door. Our communities, like Marshall, shown below, responded beautifully and helpfully in that crisis, because that’s who we are. Around here, we check on each other. We drink sweet tea on our porches and wave at every car that passes. We already know how to take care of our own. Prepping just gives us more to offer when it counts. Keep It Quiet—but Be Ready to Connect Prepping works best when it’s done quietly. You don’t need to broadcast what you’ve got stored up. That’s for your household to know—and protect. But at the same time, this isn’t a solo sport. Building quiet relationships ahead of time means you won’t have to rely on strangers when it matters most. Knowing your neighbors’ names, skills, and needs is a powerful form of preparation. Who’s got medical training? Who has a chainsaw or a tractor? Who checks on the widow down the road? Who has a generator—and who depends on oxygen? The Appalachian Way Around here, we’ve always known how to be ready. Before “prepping” was a buzzword, it was just common sense. Our ancestors didn’t call themselves preppers—they called themselves prepared. They had cellars dug deep into cool earth, packed with potatoes, kraut, and jars that gleamed like amber in the lamplight. Smokehouses hung full of meat. Quilts were folded in waiting. Wood was stacked tall long before the first frost. That’s not panic. That’s rhythm. It’s knowing the lean times follow the lush ones. It’s planting beans not just for dinner, but for seed. It’s saving what’s good, mending what breaks, and teaching your kids how to do the same. So when folks talk about prepping like it’s something new, we just smile a little. Because up here in the foothills, we’ve always known: you put back what you can, while you can. You learn to do without so you can be ready when you must. Johnny said something toward the end of our visit that stuck with us: “This isn’t about fearing the worst. It’s about honoring what our people already knew—that if you care for the land, and care for each other, you’ll never truly be without.” And that’s what preparedness really means in these mountains. It’s not a bunker full of beans. It’s a life full of care. It’s the way a cellar stays cool even when the world outside heats up. It’s a cast-iron skillet passed down—and the wisdom that comes with it. It’s not a stockpile. It’s a legacy.
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104 Packing Your Packing Your Bug-Out Bag Bug-Out Bag
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105 Most of the time, we plan to hunker down when trouble hits. But every now and then, you might have to leave—fast. That’s where a bug-out bag comes in. Think of it like your go-bag. It’s packed and ready with the essentials you’d need to get by for at least 72 hours if you had to evacuate in a hurry—whether that’s because of a wildfire, flood, chemical spill, or something you never saw coming. You don’t pack it because you expect to use it every day. You pack it so you can use it, if the day ever comes. It’s not fancy. It’s not paranoid. It’s practical. And around here, we like being the kind of folks who don’t just hope for the best—we get ready, quietly, just in case. We'll walk you through exactly what to include so your bag fits your life, your needs, and your family. Because when it comes to leaving in a hurry, you don’t want to be packing. You want to be walking out the door—ready. Bug-Out Bag Essentials Checklist ❏ A Bag: Choose a size based on the size of your family. Our bag is packed for 4 people, so we are using a backpack made for hiking. ❏ Water: You'll need a liter per person, per day. ❏ Water purification : We love the Survival Frog Water Straw, shown at right, which is compact and effective. ❏ Food: You'll want calorie dense food. It's a good time to use freeze- dried meals. We are also including Ready Hour's Emergency Ration Bars. ❏ Fire-starting tools: Better to have 2 or 3. We're using Survival Frog's Tough Tesla Lighter which is waterproof and rechargeable. ❏ Shelter: An emergency, compact tarp is great to have. ❏ Warmth: Mylar blankets pack down small, but hand warmers and wool socks are also handy. We are big fans of the Survival Frog handwarmer, shown at right. It gets quite hot and has 3 settings. You also can't go wrong with Darn Tough wool socks. ❏ First Aid & Health Compact first aid kit: Keep it small and useful. ❏ Prescription medicines: You'll want three days worth of important medicines. ❏ OTC medicines: You won't regret having pain relievers, antihistamines, anti-diarrheal, and electrolyte tabs. ❏ Feminine hygiene products ❏ N95 masks: They are compact and may prove very helpful. ❏ Insect repellent, sunscreen, lip balm: You don't need full size bottles in this bag.
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❏ Lighting & Power Headlamp and/or flashlight: You'll need some light if the power is out. ❏ Solar or hand-crank charger: Shown on our bag is the Survival Frog Solar Bank, which is really handy. It quickly charges up to three devices at a time and hangs from your bag, so that it charges in the sun on the go. ❏ Extra batteries: We like Survival Frog's USB charging batteries, because they can be recharged with the solar charger. ❏ Glow sticks or LED beacon: You never know when you'll need to be found. ❏ NOAA weather radio (hand-crank or battery-powered): Don't count on your cell phone working in an emergency. A NOAA weather radio will make sure you have access to any information being broadcast. ❏ Whistle: There's a whistle include in the Survival Frog Tough Tesla Lighter, which saves space. ❏ Paper map of your region: Ours includes a city map and a map of western NC. ❏ Compass: You'll also need to learn the basics of how to use it. ❏ Printed contact list (emergency numbers, family addresses): Go ahead and laminate it if you can. ❏ Multi-Use Tools: We love our Zombinator (shown at left) hatchet/hammer/etc, and we also recommend a Leatherman. ❏ Knife: A fixed-blade is best, but we also love Opinels. ❏ Paracord: Included with the Zombinator. ❏ Duct tape: Get a small roll, or a flatpacked roll. ❏ Documents: You'll need photocopies of any of your important IDs or paperwork and medical records. ❏ Cash: It needs to be in small bills. This is important. ❏ Change of clothes: Get something that packs down small. Merino wool and
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synthetic blends are your friend. Include underwear. ❏ Travel towel: Something advertised as "packable" is a good bet here. ❏ Toothbrush, paste, soap, comb, toilet paper: Travel sizes of all of these are all you'll need. ❏ Trash bags: These can double as ground cover or ponchos ❏ Deck of cards: Prep-N-Ready sells a deck that includes survival tips on every card. Every family is different, and no two bug- out bags will ever look exactly alike. What matters is taking the time now to think carefully about what your household would truly need to get through three days on the move—essentials for survival, small comforts to ease the stress, and those little things that keep everyone steady when the world feels upside down. Babies, elderly family members, pets, and medical conditions all add unique considerations, so tailor your bag to reflect the realities of your crew. For some, that might mean packing extra medications, favorite snacks, or even a small toy or book to comfort a child during uncertain moments. For others, it could mean planning for mobility aids, pet food, or backup power for medical devices. Just as important as what goes in the bag is where you keep it. A bug-out bag should live in a place that’s easy to access, quick to grab, and always stocked. Don’t tuck it away in the back of a closet or under a pile of storage bins—imagine needing to leave in a hurry, with no time to dig around. And once it’s packed, treat it as sacred. Don’t borrow from it for camping trips or road snacks and forget to replace what you’ve taken. Keep it intact and ready because in an emergency, there may be not be time. With one grab, you’ve given your family a head start, a layer of protection, and a rare kind of peace of mind.
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108 Pull Up a Chair at the Table If you want to learn to cook like an Appalachian woman, you start in the kitchen—not with a list of rules, but by watching, listening, and paying attention. Around here, food is part of the rhythm of everyday life. We cook because people need to eat, and because gathering at the table is how families stay close. Maybe you didn’t grow up in a house where the kitchen was always busy, but it doesn’t matter. You don’t need to be born to it. What matters is patience, a willingness to learn, and respect for what you’ve got. You’ll make mistakes—everybody does—but if you pay attention, you’ll get better. This isn’t fancy food, and it’s not meant to impress anybody. It’s practical, it’s filling, and it’s usually simple. That’s not to say it isn’t good. Some of the best meals you’ll ever eat are the ones you make for the people you love, using what you have on hand. If you want to learn, I’ll show you how to start. We’ll go step by step, and by the end, you’ll understand more than just recipes—you’ll know how to put a meal together from scratch, how to trust your senses, and how to cook in a way that feels like home. HoW T o c oo K Like You're From Here
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109 Stocking an Appalachian Kitchen A kitchen in the mountains doesn’t need much, but it needs the right things. If you’re just starting out, don’t worry about buying every spice at the store or filling your shelves with specialty items. Start with what lasts and what gets used every day. You need flour—plain, self-rising, or both. Most bread, biscuits, and pie crusts start with flour. Cornmeal is just as important, especially for cornbread. Beans are a staple, usually dried pintos or whatever’s grown nearby. Potatoes are another constant. You can keep a sack in a cool spot and use them every which way. Salt and black pepper cover most seasoning, but if you’ve got a little garlic powder and maybe some dried sage or thyme, you’ll be glad for it—those three will see you through most suppers. Paprika or a bit of cayenne is good for a kick now and then. Sugar comes in handy for sweet tea, cobbler, or just to round out a sauce. Eggs are important too. In my day, we got our eggs from the backyard, but the grocery store eggs will do just fine. A dozen eggs will carry you a long way—scrambled, fried, baked into breads, or stirred into batter. Now, about meat. Pork and chicken are what you’ll see most often in these hills. Hogs were practical because they could root in the woods and didn’t mind the rough terrain. People made the most out of every part: bacon, ham, sausage, fatback, and lard for cooking. Chickens were everywhere, easy to keep, and you always had eggs as a bonus. A good pot of chicken and dumplings or some fried chicken on Sunday was something special. Beef, you’ll find it sometimes, but it was harder to keep cows in these mountains—flat pasture’s in short supply. When it comes to equipment, a cast iron skillet is the one thing folks won’t do without. It heats evenly, lasts for generations, and is just as good for cornbread as for frying chicken or apples. You’ll need a sharp knife and a cutting board, a couple of mixing bowls, a big spoon or two, and a baking sheet or pan. Don’t feel like you have to buy everything new. Most cooks around here inherit half their kitchen tools from somebody else, or find them at a yard sale. If you’ve got good hands, you’ve already got your most important tools. Some keep more—maybe jars of home-canned beans, pickles, or peaches—but you work with what’s available. If you’re missing something, swap it out or make do. That’s how most of the best family recipes came to be: by working with what you had, not what you wished for. A well-stocked kitchen isn’t about abundance—it’s about being prepared, paying attention to what you use most, and keeping a few basics on hand. Start there, and you’ll be able to cook just about anything you need.
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110 Natural Natural Elements Elements Of N o r t h C a r o l i n a W e c u r a t e p r o d u c t s f o r a W e c u r a t e p r o d u c t s f o r a n a t u r a l l i f e s t y l e n a t u r a l l i f e s t y l e Our products include: • A full-range of North Carolina grown CBD products • Delta 8, 9 and THC-A products • Elderberry Syrup • Drop of Nepal Honey • Dried Herbs and Tinctures • Essential Oils • And more! 1 2 2 B o u n d a r y s t r e e t n w L e n o i r , N C 2 8 6 4 5 8 2 8 / 9 2 9 / 2 4 2 0
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The Heart of the Meal: Making a Meal from Nothing If you ask folks around here how they learned to cook, most’ll tell you it started with learning how to make something out of nearly nothing. It’s not just thrift—it’s a way of thinking, handed down from people who had to stretch every bit they had to make sure nobody went hungry. The backbone of most suppers is simple food: beans, cornbread, potatoes, and whatever else you can pull together. That’s not just old-fashioned talk— it still works, and it still fills you up. Start with soup beans. Dried pintos are the old standby. You soak ‘em overnight if you have time (but if you forget, just cook them low and slow), then simmer with some salt, maybe a hunk of fatback or a hambone if you’ve got it. If there’s a little onion or garlic, toss that in too. Soup beans are meant to be shared—just keep the pot on and add a little water if company shows up. Cornbread is the next thing you’ll want to master. Good cornbread starts with a hot, greased skillet. Stir together a cup and a half of cornmeal, half a cup of flour, a teaspoon of baking powder, a good pinch of salt, an egg, and enough milk or buttermilk to make a thick batter. Melt some bacon grease or butter in your skillet, swirl it around, then pour in the batter. Listen for a little sizzle—that means your crust will be crisp. Bake at 425 until it pulls from the sides and browns on top. Some folks add a spoonful of sugar, some don’t. Do what you like. It comes out crisp on the edges and soft in the middle, perfect for soaking up bean broth. Potatoes are another friend of the Appalachian cook. You can fry ‘em in a skillet, roast ‘em in the oven, or just boil ‘em with a little salt. Leftover potatoes? Mash them up and fry them as cakes the next morning. Nothing goes to waste. If you have greens—collards, turnip, wild poke or dandelion, or just a mess of whatever’s fresh—you can simmer them with a little salt and fat. Ramps or wild onions, if you’re lucky enough to find them, bring a bright flavor to any meal. In the summer, you’ll have dandelion or creasy greens. Cabbage works too, and it’ll keep all winter if you store it cool. A meal can always be stretched. If you have just a bit of meat, cut it small and use it for seasoning instead of the main event. A little ham goes a long way in a pot of beans or greens. Leftover chicken can become chicken and dumplings, or get turned into soup with potatoes and carrots. Even scraps of vegetables can be saved up in the freezer and tossed into a pot for stock. And here’s the thing: meals like this aren’t just about making do. They taste good, they bring people together, and they remind you that simple food, made with care, is just as worthy as anything fancy. If you keep the basics on hand, you can feed a crowd without much fuss. Nobody goes away hungry, and nothing gets thrown out if you can help it. That’s the real heart of mountain cooking—resourcefulness, respect, and knowing that every meal is a way to look after the people around you.
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112 Fundamental Skills, Granny’s Way A recipe is a good place to start, but most of what you’ll learn comes from doing. Cooking like this is about getting your hands into the dough, watching what happens in the skillet, and trusting your senses to guide you. Here are some skills that’ll serve you for a lifetime: Biscuits from Scratch There’s nothing store-bought that’ll touch a real biscuit. Start with two cups of self-rising flour in a big bowl. Cut in a generous spoonful of lard or cold butter—use your fingers, a fork, or whatever feels right. Work it just until it looks like coarse crumbs; don’t fuss over it too much. Pour in enough cold milk or buttermilk to bring it together into a soft dough (about ¾ cup, but watch the feel, not the measure). Turn it out onto a floured counter and gently pat it down—not too thin, about an inch thick. Cut with a biscuit cutter or just a glass, and lay them close together on a greased baking sheet. Bake hot—425 degrees—until they’re golden. Biscuits want a gentle hand. If you work them too much, they’ll be tough. Frying Frying isn’t hard, but it takes attention. For chicken, season your pieces well with salt and pepper. Dredge them in flour. Heat lard or oil in your skillet—hot enough that a drop of water sizzles, but not so hot it smokes. Lay the chicken in carefully, skin side down, and don’t crowd the pan. Brown both sides, then turn the heat down and cover to finish cooking through. Let it rest on a rack or paper towels so it stays crisp. Making Gravy Gravy’s nothing to fear. Once you’ve fried your meat or potatoes, leave a tablespoon or so of fat in the pan and sprinkle in a spoonful of flour. Stir and let it brown up—don’t rush it. Slowly pour in milk (for cream gravy) or water/broth (for brown gravy), stirring all the while. Let it simmer until it thickens, and add salt and pepper to taste. If it gets lumpy, just keep stirring or use a whisk. No shame in it. These basics will see you through most anything. Don’t let a mistake scare you—every good cook has burned a pan or made a biscuit that could break a window. Just try again. The best way to learn is by doing, and the kitchen is a forgiving place if you keep at it.
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113 Learning to Taste and Trust Yourself One of the first things you’ll notice, if you spend any time around good home cooks, is that nobody’s measuring every little thing. There might be a recipe, sure, but most of the time it’s a pinch of this, a splash of that, and tasting as you go. That’s not being careless—it’s experience, and it’s confidence. You have to let yourself trust your senses. Smell tells you if something’s done, or if it’s burning. Your eyes tell you if the crust is golden or if the beans have soaked up enough water. And most of all, your tongue will let you know if you’ve got it right. Don’t be afraid to taste as you cook. A spoonful from the pot, a little bit off the knife—see if it needs more salt, or a little pepper, or maybe just another few minutes on the stove. If something’s bland, add a touch of salt or a bit of fat. If it’s too salty, try a squeeze of lemon juice, a splash of vinegar, or add a little potato to the pot and let it cook awhile—it’ll soak up some of that salt. If your gravy is lumpy, don’t panic. Take a whisk to it, or even pour it through a strainer if you have to. If the biscuits are tough, next time don’t knead them as much. Every mistake is a lesson, not a failure. Cooking this way, you learn that every batch comes out a little different. The beans are never quite the same twice; the bread might rise a little more or less depending on the weather. That’s part of the charm. You’re not just following instructions, you’re paying attention, making adjustments, and putting a little of yourself into each meal. If you’re new, you might feel nervous at first—unsure if you’re doing it right. That’s normal. But over time, you’ll develop a feel for it. Your hands will know when dough is just right. You’ll start to sense when something needs a few more minutes. You’ll start to notice the difference between “almost done” and “just right.” There’s no shame in mistakes, and you’ll never stop learning. Every cook, no matter how old, is still figuring things out. The important thing is to keep tasting, keep adjusting, and let your own judgment grow. Before you know it, you’ll be cooking by feel—just like the best of them. The Low and Slow Barbecue Show The Low and Slow Barbecue Show serves pitmaster stories, barbecue recipes, and advice for meat smoking! LOWSLOWBBQSHOW.COM LOWSLOWBBQSHOW.COM SCAN HERE SCAN HERE TO SUBSCRIBE: TO SUBSCRIBE:
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Kitchen Wisdom Cooking isn’t just about recipes—it’s the habits you keep and the care you take along the way. There’s a kind of quiet wisdom in the kitchen, passed along not in words but in the way you do things, day after day. First: clean as you go. It doesn’t have to be spotless, but keeping your counters clear and your tools washed makes everything smoother. Pile up dishes and you’ll dread cleaning later; keep up with it, and the work never feels too heavy. Still, don’t let a mess ruin your mood—if the kitchen’s a little wild now and then, it means you’re living and making something real. Be grateful for what you have. Around here, it’s common to pause for a blessing before a meal—just a moment to be thankful, whether you say it out loud or just to yourself. Food tastes better when you remember that someone grew it, someone cooked it, and you’re lucky enough to have it on your plate. Share what you can. Even if you don’t have much, there’s always a way to stretch a meal. A big pot of beans feeds extra mouths, and a pan of cornbread can always be cut into a few more pieces. That’s how communities are built: not with grand gestures, but by pulling up another chair when someone knocks on your door. Don’t get hung up on following every recipe to the letter. Most of the best cooks you’ll meet learned by watching their mothers or grandmothers, memorizing the steps more by repetition than by writing anything down. If you ask them for the secret, they’ll shrug and say, “Just watch me,” or “You’ll know when it’s right.” Cooking is tradition, but it’s also a living thing—each time you make a dish, you add your own touch. Most of all, remember that food isn’t just fuel. It’s how you take care of your people, mark the seasons, and pass on a little bit of yourself. If you cook with love, it’ll show up in every bite—even if supper isn’t perfect.
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116 Tradition, Refined: Chef Sullivan’s Appalachian Kitchen Chef Benjamin Sullivan has deep roots in the mountains of North Carolina—his family has called these hills home since the early 1700s. With over twenty years of experience in professional kitchens, Sullivan blends Appalachian tradition with modern culinary finesse. A graduate of the inaugural Johnson & Wales Charlotte campus and now the Director of Culinary Operations for Cranford Hospitality, Ben brings both heritage and innovation to the table. In this new series, Chef Sullivan shares seasonal recipes that celebrate the flavors of western North Carolina with refined techniques and thoughtful updates. These aren’t just meals—they’re heirlooms passed down through generations, reimagined for today’s kitchens. As he puts it, “Sitting around a dinner table with recipes like these allows us not only to connect with our friends and family today, but with those generations that came before us who built what we have.” In this first gathering of recipes, Chef Sullivan invites us to a table that feels both familiar and fresh. Each dish is rooted in the flavors of the Appalachian foothills but layered with intention and creativity—designed to nourish, surprise, and stir memory. Whether you’re cooking for a weekday supper or a special occasion, these recipes offer more than just good food—they offer a sense of place, of heritage, and of home. Roast Pork with Apple Molasses, Whipped Rutabaga & Creamed Collards This plate is a study in balance: rich, tender pork; earthy rutabaga; creamy, curried greens—and a house-made apple molasses that ties it all together. It’s comfort food with a backbone. Roast Pork The coppa steak is also known as the pork collar and comes from the top of the pork shoulder. It’s a great cut for its marbling and tenderness. Ask your butcher for this great cut! If you can’t find one, simply substitute a pork loin in the recipe. Preheat an oven to 300°F. Heavily season the outside of your pork. Sear all sides of your roast—in pork fat if possible. If using the coppa, be sure to start your sear with the fat cap; you can use the rendered fat to sear the other sides. Place in the oven and cook until the middle of the roast reaches a temperature of 145°F. Let rest for 10 minutes, then slice to serve. Apple Molasses • 2 quarts Apple Cider Place the cider in a saucepan over low heat and reduce until very thick. This should take several hours. Be sure to carefully spoon off any impurities that collect on the surface. Remove from heat and set aside. Whipped Rutabaga • 1 Rutabaga • 4 tbsp Butter • 1 tsp Mace • 2 tsp Salt • 1 tsp White Pepper Peel and dice the rutabaga and place in a pot with water. Cook until the rutabaga is soft, strain, and mash with the butter, salt, pepper, and mace. Creamed Collards • 1 tsp Curry Powder • 1/2 cup Heavy Cream • 3 cups Cooked Collards This is a fun way to dress up your normal collards! Prepare your collards as you normally would. Before serving, in a saucepan over low heat, add your curry powder and lightly toast until fragrant. Add the cream and bring to a simmer. Strain your collard greens from their liquor and add to the cream mixture. Stir to combine. Season to taste and serve.
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118 W arm Green Bean Salad with Bacon Vinaigrette • 1 lb Green Beans • 1 lb Potatoes, russet • 1/2 small Red Onion For the Bacon Vinaigrette: • 4 oz Bacon, cooked crispy • 1 tsp Garlic • 1/2 cup Shallot • 2 sprigs Thyme • 1 tsp Whole Grain Mustard (Lusty Monk) • 1/2 cup Apple Cider Vinegar • 1/2 cup Bacon Fat, melted • 3/4 cup Water Bacon Vinaigrette Place the cooked bacon, garlic, shallot, thyme, mustard, and vinegar into a mixer. You can use any brand of whole grain mustard you like, but try to find Lusty Monk—it’s made in Asheville, and once you taste it, you’ll never want another. Start the mixture on low speed and gradually increase until you’re operating on high. Slowly add the bacon fat until the dressing is thickened. With the mixer still running, slowly add enough water until the dressing reaches your desired consistency. Salad Prep Peel the potatoes and dice into 3/4” cubes. Place them in a large pot of cold salted water and cook until just tender. Drain and allow to cool. While the potatoes are cooking, clean the green beans and finely dice the red onion. Set both aside. To prepare the salad, heat a sauté pan on medium-high heat and add 3 tablespoons of a neutral oil. Place the green beans in a single layer in the pan and cook until blistered. Add the onions and potatoes and cook for a few minutes, until the onions begin to soften. Add several tablespoons of the vinaigrette and reduce the heat, allowing the dressing to warm. Toss several times to coat the vegetables. Season with salt and black pepper to taste. Note: There will be leftover vinaigrette—save it for salads or try it rubbed onto grilled corn!
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119 Cucumber Buttermilk Salad Cool and tangy, this salad is a summer essential—rooted in tradition but elevated by sesame, tahini, and sumac. It’s crisp, creamy, and even better the next day. • 3 medium Cucumbers (Kirby, Katrina, or whatever you have) • 1 small White Onion • 1 cup Buttermilk • 2 tbsp Sesame Oil • 1 tbsp Tahini • 1/2 tsp Sumac • 1/4 tsp Chile de Árbol or Cayenne • 1/2 tsp Salt • 6 sprigs Mint Peel the cucumbers and slice as thinly as possible. Peel the onion, cut it into quarters, and slice thinly. Place both vegetables into a bowl. Add all other ingredients—except the mint—to the vegetables and toss to combine. Garnish with herbs and serve. It’s best to make this the day before and let everything marry together!
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Wildwood Heart Farm is a small, boutique farm in the foothills of NC. Our goal is to offer a place for peace. Hiking, bike trails, and the Wilkesboro NASCAR Speedway is all minutes away, and the beautiful Kerr Scott Reservoir is less than half a mile from our door. The farm offers yoga, reiki, nature massage & forest bathing, we can even provide your meals for a work free weekend. (336) 304-0078
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121 Tomato Pie A Southern classic reimagined, this upside-down tomato pie layers tangy cherry tomatoes with rich cheese custard and a golden puff pastry crust. Serve warm, and don’t forget the Cotija. Tomato Mixture: • 2 pints Cherry Tomatoes • 1/4 cup Honey • 2 tbsp Apple Cider Vinegar • 1 1/2 tsp Garlic Purée • 1/2 tsp White Pepper • 1/2 tsp Salt Cheese Custard: • 1 cup Duke’s Mayonnaise • 1 cup Sour Cream • 1 tsp Garlic Purée • 8 oz Queso Fresco crumbled • 4 oz Cheddar, shredded • 3 Eggs Other: • 1 sheet 9-inch Puff Pastry • Cotija or Parmesan for garnish Cut the cherry tomatoes in half and toss liberally with salt. Set aside in a bowl for at least 4 hours—overnight is best. Once the tomatoes have rested, rinse under cold water to remove excess salt and deseed the tomatoes as best you can. Removing as much moisture as possible is key so the pie isn’t watery. Mix the honey, vinegar, garlic, and seasoning with the tomatoes and set aside. In a separate bowl, mix together all remaining ingredients for the cheese custard until thoroughly combined. Take a 9-inch pan—preferably cast iron—and arrange the tomatoes in the bottom of the pan. Be sure to spoon a little of the vinegar mixture over them. Evenly spread the cheese mixture over the tomatoes. Place the puff pastry on top and trim the corners to match the shape of your pan. Bake at 350°F for 20–25 minutes, until the pastry is dark brown and the pie is bubbling at the edges. Remove from the oven and let the pie cool for a bit. Once it has cooled (but is not cold), carefully place a plate on top of the pie and flip it so the puff pastry is resting on the bottom. Garnish with a grated hard cheese like Cotija or Parmesan. Slice and serve warm.
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Cheerwine Coconut Chess Pie Bars Bright, nostalgic, and just a little wild, these bars marry two Southern icons: Cheerwine and chess pie. Finished with coconut and a salty- sweet crust, they’re made for front-porch evenings. Filling: • 1 cup Cheerwine • 2 tbsp Butter • 2 tbsp Buttermilk • 1/2 cup Sugar • 1/4 tsp Vanilla Extract • 1 tbsp Cornmeal • 1 tbsp Lemon Juice • Pinch of Salt • 2 Eggs • 1/4 cup Sweetened Shredded Coconut, finely chopped Crust: • 2 sleeves Saltine Crackers • 1/2 cup Brown Sugar • 1/4 cup White Sugar • 6 oz Butter, melted Preheat oven to 350°F. In a food processor, puree the saltines into fine crumbs and place in a bowl. Add both sugars and the melted butter. Stir until the mixture is evenly moistened. Press the mixture firmly into the bottom of a 9x9-inch pan. Bake the crust for 10–15 minutes, until browned and bubbling. Remove from the oven and set aside to cool. In a small saucepan over low heat, reduce the Cheerwine by half. Add the butter, buttermilk, sugar, vanilla, lemon juice, salt, and cornmeal. Stir and cook for a few minutes, then remove from heat. Finely chop the coconut and add it to the Cheerwine mixture. Whisk the eggs separately, then stir them into the mixture until fully combined. Pour the filling into the baked saltine crust and return to the oven. Bake for 15–20 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Allow to cool completely before cutting into bars. Serve with whipped cream.
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123 A Note From the Editor: We’re now in our seventh year at Foothills Digest, and over that time, we’ve had the great pleasure of working with some of the most talented chefs in our region. We’ve tasted our way across the mountains—through food trucks and fine dining, holler kitchens and hilltop restaurants—and if there’s one thing we’ve learned, it’s that true culinary artistry doesn’t just taste good. It tells a story. And when it comes to that kind of storytelling, Chef Benjamin Sullivan consistently stands out. Ben’s food isn’t just delicious—it’s deeply rooted. Every dish he creates feels grounded in the soil of this place, rich with Appalachian heritage and handled with both reverence and creativity. There’s a throughline in his cooking that honors old traditions while refusing to stay stuck in the past. He brings a modern hand to classic ingredients, and the result is food that feels both comforting and entirely new. Cranford Hospitality is lucky to have him guiding their menus, and we feel just as lucky to work with him and share his vision with our readers. There are a lot of recipes out there. We know. But these are different. These are special. Trust me—try them. I’m making the cucumber buttermilk salad tonight, and next week, I’m giving that tomato pie a go. Something tells me even Bob Timberlake will tip his hat to that one. -Carmen Eckard Chef Ben Sullivan
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Named a TOP 100 HOSPITAL in the Nation for Patient Experience in 2025! Our Other 2025 Honors Include Being Named a Best Hospital for: Obstetrics l Outpatient Experience l Stroke Care l Bariatric Surgery l Minimally Invasive Surgery l Heart Care l Cancer Care l Orthopedics l Patient Safety