All posts filed under: Muscadines

Lammykins and the Big Pit of Fire

There’s a woman at the top of the hill that sells baby “pet” goats and sheep. It’s true, the crudely hand painted sign attests to it. “PET BABY GOATS AND SHEEP FOR SALE” Although I am inclined to believe that no one actually buys them as “pets“. The stock of hooved beasts rotates in and out, the community of blaying residents swells the hillside to bursting, then one by one they vanish into the night. If anyone within a drive-able distance were actually stocking their yards with hairy lawn ornaments, I’d have seen them. There aren’t any. What there is… is a never-ending caravan of umm…ethnic men in trucks picking up a couple “pets” for a thrilling weekend of fire, beer and barbecue. Yes my friends, she is providing a food source. I, myself, have been tempted to liberate a couple of her tasty, furry pets for my own entertainment, but thankfully… our neighborhood covenant doesn’t allow livestock – pet or otherwise… and, I’m not all that sure I could butcher a fluffy lamb… and besides, well.. goat eyes just really creep me out. …

Curb Market Crawl – Muscadines

(Hillbilly Grapes) About a mile or so down the road, where the road widens just a bit to accommodate a bridge, there’s this guy. He has the requisite battered pick up, the frayed plastic-strapped lawn chair, and a propane cooker teaming alive with bobbing brown gold ( goober peas…. boiled peanuts). Most days I pass him by. I’m a fully developed Southern man..I know how to boil my own peanuts… and on the rare occasion that I want some, I do my own. But this time as I was cutting the corners off the road as it winds down towards the Etowah River, my eye caught a new addition to  the ramshackle set up. A small card table stacked high with little quart baskets… each one brimming with those unmistakable black-purple orbs. Muscadine Season has arrived to the Mountains. Now, I know, it’s a love / hate thing with muscadines – there’s no middle ground, they are an acquired taste. Not everyone can handle that tannin assault of the skins, the uber tartness, or that odd, over-ripe, Mogen David muskiness of the fruit. But, if …