by Jamie S.
When I declared my intentions for this year's Eat Local Challenge, I wrote: "I will use the Eat Local Challenge as an opportunity to emphasize the flavors that are native to the American South." Why? Because although the South has lost much of its small-farm network (in most people's minds, CSA stands for the Confederacy rather than for a weekly box of fresh vegetables), it still has one of the country's most vibrant local cuisines.
I'm a northerner. This isn't the cuisine I grew up with, so why celebrate it? Well, I like it, for one thing. But also, it's far easier to do the Eat Local Challenge if you work with local tradition rather than against it.
Local foodways tend to reflect climate and soil type. Traditional dishes use the foods that grow best in the region. It's no accident that southern food is chock-full of sweet potatoes, muscadine grapes, okra, flint corn, yellow crookneck squash, cabbage, blackeyed peas, peanuts, pecans, and greens, greens, greens. These are the foods that are especially easy to grow in our hot sun and red clay.
And then there's culture. If I were back home in northeastern Ohio, I'd look for frying peppers and homemade Italian sausage, courtesy of the Sicilian and Calabrese population. I'd look for lima beans and Swiss cheese at Mennonite and Amish farm stands. Down here in Georgia, though, it's all about soul food. Bring on the fried catfish, collards, and slaw!
Ethnic and cultural groups with a strong history in an area will continue to produce their best-loved foods long after corporate America has swallowed up everything else in sight. And what's more, traditional foods usually stay relatively cheap, because everyday people depend on them.
So when the Eat Local Challenge comes around, I naturally find myself gravitating toward southern-style cooking. Last year's ELC took place in sweet potato and tomato season. This year, I'm lucky enough to be eating locally at the height of our sublime Vidalia onions. And I managed to scare up a jar of mayhaw jelly, made from an indigenous fruit from the southern swamplands. Its name is a clue to when it's ripe.
I've been cooking grits--especially cheese grits. I'm baking cornbread and biscuits. Last year, I railed and struggled against the South's soft wheat flour, which is all but useless for baking yeast breads. This year, I've decided not to fight it. It is what it is, and damn if I don't make a mighty fine biscuit these days.
What's your region's equivalent of country ham with red-eye gravy? What's your town's ethnic specialty? Chances are, you can get it from a local source.
Jamie S. lives in rural Georgia and writes 10 Signs Like This, a blog that's part gardening journal, part cookbook, part sustainable lifestyle, and part short attention span.
