Apple Stack Cake-Icon of Appalachian "Cuisine"? (March 2024)

 Apple Stack Cake-Icon of Appalachian Cuisine?  (March 2024)

Sometimes serendipity is the key to research! I have been looking for apple stack cake ever
since I first heard about it in the early 2000s. A cake made of 7-13 thin cookie-like layers sandwiched together with a sauce ideally made from dried apples and, some insist, sorghum, it has been held up as an icon of Appalachian cuisine by chefs, cookbook writers, and food journalists. 

     I learned of stack cake from Mark Sohn, a French-trained chef from the Pacific northwest who was teaching in Kentucky and had taken an interest in the region’s food culture. He began writing a weekly column in the local paper, asking for readers to send in recipes and memories. He then reworked the recipes and published several cookbooks. One of the first “outsiders” to celebrate mountain foodways as worthy of attention from gourmet cooks, his books drew a great deal of attention and were nominated for James Beard awards. (Sohn, Mark F., Appalachian home cooking: History, culture and recipes. Lexington, Kentucky: The University Press of Kentucky, 2005 and Mountain country cooking:  A gathering of the best recipes from the Smokies to the Blue Ridge, forward by John Egerton. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1996.)

            Anyway, I had never seen or heard of the cake prior to Sohn, so I began looking for it. I discovered that Ronni Lundy, a native of Kentucky, and another author of cookbooks, had grown up with it and even featured it in her 1994 cookbook, Shuck beans, stack cakes, and honest fried chicken: The heart and soul of southern country kitchens. 

            Still, both of these authors were based in Kentucky, and southern Appalachia is a big place with lots of sub-regions. My area of western North Carolina (mostly, Ashe and Buncombe counties) was very different from parts of Kentucky and West Virginia that had historically been exploited for coal mining. Tourism had kept the natural environment preserved as a scenic attraction, and the highland plateau of Ashe County had supported thriving family-based cattle and dairy industries. 

It wasn’t that I distrusted those authors, but I wasn’t sure that apple stack cake could stand for all of southern Appalachian food culture. Also, they discussed it as an icon of a regional cuisine. I never heard anyone refer to mountain food traditions as “cuisine,” and whenever I suggested it, people tended to look incredulous and even laugh—local residents because it sounded too “fancy;” outsiders because the assumptions about that food culture was that it, at best, was simple, plain cooking that took little skill or, at worst, featured roadkill and small critters.

I set out looking for apple stack cake on my various travels through Appalachia and never once came across it. And then, after attending this year’s Appalachian Studies conference in Cullowhee,NC,  I decided spur of the moment to stay an extra day in order to go hiking and visit friends who had rented a place in Waynesville. (Also, is cut off an hour of travel time back to

Ohio.) For dinner Sunday evening, we stopped in a local restaurant, Clyde’s, advertising home cooking. I had a vegetable plate of fried okra, fried squash, and fried green tomato (another blog about how that’s not traditional to the region!), cole slaw (made the “correct” way with mayonnaise), corn bread, and sweet tea—a pretty standard southern meal. 

On the off chance, I mentioned to the young woman serving us that I was looking for apple stack cake. Not only had she definitely heard of it, but her aunt served it at her restaurant at the other end of town! And she opened at 7 in the morning for breakfast.

The next morning, my intrepid friend, Pat, went with me for breakfast before I headed home. Sure enough. They had a whole stack cake in their refrigerator. They brought it out and cut two large quarter slices for me. It was delicious, and very different texture from the usual cake. The woman who makes them wasn’t in yet, but the servers showed me the jar of sugar cane molasses that she uses (not sorghum). They also said the cakes usually have 7 layers, but they had messed up one layer, so this one only had 6. 

After looking for over 20 years, I finally got to taste the cake—and it was just on the off chance, that I found it at Haley and Waylon’s Southern Kitchen in Waynesville, NC.

Interestingly, I stopped off at the Appalachian Museum in Tennessee on my way back north to see if the restaurant was open and serving corn casserole—the best I’ve tasted anywhere, except my grandmother’s in Kannapolis. I asked the servers there if they ever offered stack cake, and the young woman said she had never heard of it. When I said it was supposed to be the best of Appalachian cooking, she pointed out that they were the Appalachian Museum, but never had it on their menu. Then, on the way out, I greeted an older couple who were just finishing their meal. The woman said the founder of the museum was her husband’s brother. I asked her about stack cake, and she said, oh yes, she loved it, but it was a lot of trouble to make so didn’t have it often. She said they just lived across the road and come up for a visit, but I had to get on home. Next time! 

Soda Bread at Balleymaloe Cookery School, County Cork.    March 15, 2024

Irish soda bread in the US is oftentimes presented as a quick bread, frequently sweetened and with raisins and caraway seed and baked in a rectangular loaf pan. Soda bread in Ireland (the Republic, not Northern Ireland) tends to be sold as rounded loaves—cakes, they are usually called. Also, it carries imagery of being rural and old-fashioned, with adjectives like “farm-house” attached to the packaging. 

Also, soda bread made from wholewheat (called whole-meal there) is usually called “brown bread” and frequently not even referred to as soda bread. This variety appears more frequently in a loaf form, and slices accompany breakfast or a bowl of soup. They might also be the base for open-face sandwiches. On several occasions, I asked servers in restaurants if the brown slice was soda bread, and they didn’t know. 

Anyway, I have tried making soda bread numerous times on my own and have varying degrees of success. I usually stick to making smaller round loaves. A cross is made on top to help the bread bake all the way through—although some fanciful descriptions say it’s for a blessing or to keep the fairies away. 

The following recipe is a composite of basic traditional ones, and uses American measurements.  

•               Flour (~3 ½ cups). (white or wholemeal)

•               Salt (1/2 -3/4 tsp) 

•               Bicarbonate of Soda (“Baking Soda”) (1 tsp)

•               Buttermilk (~1 ¼-1 ½ cup)

•               Possible traditional additions (egg, butter, sugar, currants, treacle)

      Mix dry ingredients. Make well and add milk. Mix lightly and form into a round. 

Bake in a covered pot (Dutch oven) on a floured baking sheet in oven at 375 degrees F or 200 C or on a floured griddle (flip over half way through cooking).

    In December of 2022 I was delighted to be invited by Irish food scholar Regina Sexton to accompany her on a visit to the Ballymaloe Cookery School in County Cork. We had lunch there and met with some members of the family that had started the restaurant and farm. When I mentioned my interest in sodabread, I was given an impromptu lesson. There were several pointers—use my hands; do not overmix; and round the bottom of the rounded “cake.” These would normally have been passed down in the kitchen, so that formal classes wouldn’t seem necessary. The result was delicious, especially when slathered with butter.  (The photos were taken in the kitchen of the cookery school.)

Irish Soda Bread: Homemade from a packaged mix from Ireland--March 14, 2024

 Irish Soda Bread: Homemade from a packaged mix (from Ireland)--March 14, 2024

Saint Patrick’s Day is coming up in several days, and that usually means that green pastries and Irish stouts and liquors starts appearing in American supermarkets. Occasionally, soda bread is also available. A quick bread relying on baking soda as the rising agent, the bread in the US is closely associated with Irish culture, so that it is usually advertised as “Irish soda bread.” 

Although a long history is usually assumed, soda bread only goes back to the early 1800s, since baking soda was not commercially available until the 1840s. The version usually made in the US is fancy one with sugar, maybe an egg, and raisins (to replace currants) that would have been served only for special occasions in Ireland. The soda bread that I saw at dance events and gatherings in the US was always in a rectangular loaf form rather than the round “cake” presented as traditional “farmhouse” soda in the Republic of Ireland. 

The kind I usually was offered in homes and restaurants in Ireland was actually more commonly “brown bread,” soda bread made with wholewheat flour and oftentimes also baked in a loaf pan. Slices of this—which were never referred to as soda bread, but just “brown bread,” oftentimes accompanied breakfast or soup. Some restaurants also used a slice as a base for an open-top sandwich—shrimp salad or cheese and tomato were the ones I usually saw. 

All of these versions are very different from the “farls” that are common in Northern Ireland—quarters of a round that are cooked on a griddle and turned over and flattened on both sides. These are eaten at any time of day in Ulster and sold in supermarkets and bakeries by the farl. They can be made with white flour (plain soda), wholewheat flour (wholemeal), with treacle (a form of molasses), and with currants or dried fruits. I also saw varieties in a Belfast market in 2022 made with spelt and other flours and having sunflower seeds and nuts mixed in the dough. Farls are central to an “Ulster fry,” a meal of fried eggs, white and black puddings (liver and blood sausage), streaky bacon, broiled tomato, and fried potato farls, that is standard for breakfast but actually served any time of day. I remember having a fry at 2 in the morning after attending a dance or music event! 

Back to St. Patrick’s Day and soda bread in the US… This year the supermarkets seem subdued about the holiday, but in years past, they displayed anything that could be construed as Irish (stout, whiskey, Irish cream liqueurs, corned beef for Jigg’s dinner--a whole other blog!, cheese and butter from Ireland, and, occasionally, soda bread) along with other Spring holidays and imagery. Sometimes, Mardi Gras is close to St. Patrick’s Day, and the stores have a field day then, juxtaposing “Irish” products next to king cake and Polish paczki, doughnuts laden with sugar and fat. 

This year, I haven’t seen soda bread being sold in supermarkets in northwest Ohio or in western North Carolina. That’s ok since it’s usually made with “inauthentic recipes” with baking powder and sugar added. I usually make some from scratch anyway. This year, though, I’m making use of a packaged mix brought over for Christmas by my Irish son-in-law. The mix was came from Odlums, a company started in 1845 in the center of Ireland. I’ve seen and purchased their mixes throughout Ireland and brought them to the US as souvenirs to give to friends. (See: Folkloristic Perspectives on Food as Tourism Souvenir: Stereotypes, Meanings, and Messages in Irish Soda Bread. (Reflection). Research in Hospitality Management 12/3 (2022): 209-214. DOI: 10.1080/22243534.2023.2202491).  They’re always a big hit! 

The mix is very convenient. All it needed was milk instead of the usual called-for buttermilk. Milk can be curdled with vinegar, and some Irish cooks  “sweet” milk can be used, but I’ve never had much success with those. It took 5 minutes at the most to add milk to the mix, stir it together and shape into rounds. I flattened one to be more like the Ulster farls that reminded my father of the buttermilk biscuits he grew up on in Appalachia and left the other one rounded. I made both smaller than usual to make sure they baked all the way through. Slathered with the Irish butter that’s commonly sold in the US now, they were delicious. I served them to friends who were very appreciative.

 

(I’ll include a recipe in another blog recounting my visit to the famous Ballymaloe House cookery school--https://www.ballymaloe.com--in County Cork in December of 2022.)

 

For more about soda bread and its different forms, uses, and meanings in the three cultures, see my conference paper: Travels of Soda bread from Quotidian Food to Heritage Food. In Proceedings of the Dublin Gastronomy Symposium—2022 Food and Movement, pp. 167-73. Dublin: Technological University Dublin, 2022 (https://arrow.tudublin.ie/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1255&context=dgs).

 

Musings on the Meaningfulness of Life and Food—or ode to tater tots

 Musings on the Meaningfulness of Life and Food—or ode to tater tots

Sunday, Jan. 16, 2022

 

I just returned from the airport and dropping my daughter off to fly back to her real, adult life after spending the holidays here and seeing friends and family for the first time in 2 years (due to Covid). NPR had Krista Tippett’s On-Being program (https://onbeing.org/series/podcast/ ) featuring Oliver Burkeman who writes about happiness and time management. I was in a reflective mood anyway, but the discussion brought up some good points about the purpose of life and how to live meaningfully. I was reminded, too, that when I was developing my Center for Food and Culture, the business consultants/web designers I worked with told me about Tippett and said that my discussions of food reminded them of her. They suggested I start a podcast series modeled after her, something along the lines of “on eating.” This was in 2011, though, and the western world was just waking up to the idea of food as something meaningful beyond nutrition, celebrity chefs, or trendy food adventures. Ours is not always a reflective culture, and even in the humanities in academia, I found myself having to defend my research and thinking on food. 

       Times have definitely changed and people are more open to what I consider humanities approaches to life—looking at how different people over time and place have searched and occasionally found meaning in their lives. I still see the humanities as central and necessary, although I have found it useful to think about how those ideas can then be applied to changing food systems and larger cultural and political structures. 

     In my daily life, the meaningfulness of food is nowhere more evident than when the “children” are home. Now adults, the 2 younger ones are not as interested in food or cooking as my oldest was. He and I connected over sharing recipes and cooking tips, as well as philosophical discussions around his ethical commitment to veganism. He died from colon cancer, rather ironically since he was otherwise the picture of good health, in 2017, but he is very much with us, especially during the holidays. I still make his favorite dishes for those days, and we actively remember him in that way, but the activities around those preparations are not something that the others find as meaningful. That’s ok. We each have our own ways to express ourselves, and different things speak to different individuals. I enjoy the processes and tastes anyway, and we’re discovering new rituals that are becoming traditions for us—life goes on, but it always encompasses the past. 

     So, instead of including a recipe here, I’m reminiscing about some of the foods we ate and the meals we had this holiday season: lentil salad, apple waldorf salad, kale salad (with “massaged” kale, a descriptor that seems perfect for a certain attitude towards the green), pumpkin pie (from homegrown pumpkin), tofukey and a host of variants both homemade and store bought, corn pudding from a jiffy mix, frozen samosas and pierogi, and, always a favorite, tater tots. These foods were not particularly distinctive nor unique, but each was meaningful in its own way, embodying tastes, values, identities, and memories. A lot of the foods used short-cuts, but that was just fine—giving me more time and energy to spend with the kids, and to be with them in the fullest experiential sense. And ultimately, that’s why the food was meaningful. It brought us together, with hunger an excuse to stop what we were doing, to take pleasure in the moment and in each other, and tater tots did that just as well as long hours over the stove. That might be what I would serve Krista Tippett, too, if she ever came to visit. It would give us more time to talk. I wouldn’t turn her down if she offered to help and prepare other dishes, but that wouldn’t be necessary for the meal to be meaningful—just as the meals with my children.

Food for Peace-An Asian Heritage Festival, Toledo, Ohio May 22, 2021

Yesterday, I attended one of my first public events since covid-19 shut things down. It was the Asian Heritage Festival: A Showcase of Local Asian Women Owned Businesses. It was organized by two nonprofits, Women of Toledo and HerHub (www.womenoftoledo.org/www.419herhub.org). The first “advocates for diversity and inclusion with a focus on economic empowerment.” A worthy cause, and the festival advertised art, food, and fun. There were a number of art activities and educational displays as well as a Bollywood dance lesson.

       It was the food, of course, that drew me, and it definitely brought people together. After gathering some food to taste, I sat at one of the few spaces open at a table, starting talking with my tablemates about the food and made two new friends. The entrance fee included tickets for 2 meals and one “Asian mocktail.” I selected an Indian dinner from Bombay Kitchen, the restaurant that offered the site for the festival. They advertised street food, but the samples were standbys that usually go over well with Americans: chicken curry (“butter chicken”), rice, samosas (fried filled turnovers), mango lassi(yogurt drink with mango), spicy chickpeas, and gulab jamun, a delicious deep fried ball of flour, milk, and sugar soaked in rose-water syrup (which sometimes come with a warning that they can be detrimental to diets). It was more than enough food to sample, and it was delicious. 

   Shokudo Kitchen from Perrysburg, Ohio was there with choices of Korean beef bulgogi or Japanaese teriyaki, rice or noodles, and a side (Asian slaw, kale power blend, or edamame). I didn’t have enough tickets to try everything and had to pass on this one. It looked delicious, although adapted to American styles of serving and current trends in mixing flavors and ingredients from different cuisines.. Food has always been adapted to new circumstances and new tastes, so that authenticity is a false illusion. These fusion and “Asian inspired” dishes can be a good entryway into a new food culture for newcomers, but they also reflect a newer aesthetic that some describe as cosmopolitan.

   The next offering was Kay’s Kitchen, Sylvania, Ohio, offering Vietnamese food. The owner, Kay, is actually Hmong (one of the hilltribes that lived in the mountainous north part of Laos and Thailand). She married a man from Vietnam and learned to prepare food from that culture as well as from Laos. Certain Vietnamese dishes have become popular in the U.S., and she offered those for tasting: bahn mi (sandwich made on a long roll, legacy of French colonialism in the region), crispy spring roll, summer rolls, and two varieties of cold noodle salads (bun ga and twit nuong). I got to taste most of these because my tablemates shared tidbits with me.

    I know I said above that authenticity is an illusion, but the food evoked the memories of the four months that I lived in Saigon in 1974, attended university there. I loved the food there. I would stop with my friends at stalls by the side of the street and get the same types of noodle dishes and bahn mi. The only difference was the absence of the ubiquitous nuoc mam (a pungent salty fish sauce). The bahn mi, in particular, I loved. They consist of various meats with pickled carrot, turnip, and the leaves of fresh herbs (basil and cilantro), and piercingly hot chilies on mayonnaise inside a long bakery roll, the rolls being the legacy of French colonialism in the region. 

Kay was being helped by her daughters, who were all wearing Vietnamese ao dai, a close filling long tunic over flowing pants. That brought back memories also and somehow made the food taste even better!

    The final tasting was dessert from the Tiger Bakery in Toledo, one of my favorite sources for Middle Eastern food. They feature dishes from Syria, Jordan, Lebanon, Palestine, and Libya, reflecting the heritages of the cooks and owner. For this event they gave out two baklava, a pastry of ground nuts (I think in this case, walnuts) layered with thin sheets of phyllo dough and soaked in honey and syrup. The dish is not only delicious; it also shows the complexity of foods and cultural identity. Variations of baklava are found all over the Levant, all around the Mediterranean Sea, and into southern and southeast Europe. It’s one of those foods that a lot of cultures claim, but something this good is always going to transcend national boundaries.

    Most of the audience at the festival were likely unaware of the histories of the various dishes and cuisines being offered. They probably would have found them interesting, but the real intent of the event was successful. It brought people together to support local Asian businesses, and in doing so, people were clearly relishing the food, the chance to socialize, and the various activities being presented. It was a pleasurable outing for me, and I appreciate the 419 Culinary Nomads (World Affairs Council of NW Ohio: https://www.facebook.com/groups/506208900563098/) letting me know about the event. 

   More events of this type can help spread understanding of the diversity of and within cultures. Such understanding is particularly needed in these days of negative portrayals of Asians. 

 In honor of Cinco de Mayo tomorrow, I thought I'd post a link to a short documentary I produced on Mexican American foodways, particularly, tortilla making, in Northwest Ohio. It features my friendand colleague, Gloria Pizano, a wonderful cook as well as scholar and activist.(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kBfK7amGoC8&t=218s)

One of the points of the video is that we all have foods that hold a special place in our memories of home--or places, people, past--and these oftentimes are overlooked because they seem so ordinary. They might also seem easy to make and not particularly special. Tortillas are a good example. They are ubiquitous and inexpensive, oftentimes taken for granted. As Gloria demonstrates in the video, though, there's a lot more to them than meets the eye or tongue.

Another aspect of the tortillas are the various associations with the flour used to make them. Corn flour (ground from corn treated with lye which releases the vitamins and softens the hull) is the traditional kind. Corn is native to Mexico and was domesticated there around 9,000 years ago! Wheat was brought in with the European colonists at the turn of the 1500s. It grew well in northern Mexico (which spread up into what later became Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and California) and became established there. When migrants moved north from that region, they took their wheat flour tortilla traditions with them. Some Mexicans, though, consider only the corn tortillas to be authentic.

The holiday celebrates the victory over the French in 1862. It's not considered a big deal in Mexico, but it has become the public celebration of Mexican culture in the U.S.--I think, partly, because it fits so well into the calendar at a time when Spring really does seem to have arrived. In any case, it's a good excuse to try making tortillas (as shown in the video) and ordering take out from some of the many excellent Mexican American restaurants in this region. Most of these emphasize "Tex-Mex" dishes since much of the local population migrated up from Texas (and had lived in that area before it became the U.S.) starting in the 1930s to work in the sugar beet and tomato industries. For more information on this food culture, see the handouts on the website of the Center for Food and Culture (https://foodandculture.org/.../activity-guides-community.../).

Nourishing Connections Through Food in the Age of the Coronavirus—An Unfinished Blog Post from March 2020

 March 29, 2020//April 22, 2021

Nourishing Connections Through Food in the Age of the Coronavirus—An Unfinished Blog Post

April 22, 2021--I discovered this unfinished post the other day. It’s from the end of the first month of the lockdown due to the Covid-19 pandemic. I remember why I didn’t finish it. We were still getting used to the reality of the pandemic. It seemed like something from a science fiction film, and to suddenly find ourselves living through it seemed surreal. In the face of that, writing a blog seemed pretty trivial and useless. Who knew who would be around to read it.

Now, almost a year later, many of us are vaccinated, and life is actually returning to some sort of normalcy. A lot has changed, though, for a lot of us. The university used covid as an excuse to cut numerous positions, including mine, and even though it now has plenty of funds, it doesn’t see a need to rehire people. I also haven’t seen my kids in over a year and a half. Other than that, my life during the pandemic was actually very good.

The thoughts I had over a year ago, though, are still relevant, perhaps even more so. We’ve had a chance to rethink the way we live and to look into how “normal life” perhaps shouldn’t be considered normal, at least, when it comes to food. Many of us were disconnected from the producers of what we consume, were blissfully unaware of the inequalities in the food system and assumed we would have access to most anything we wanted to eat and whenever. We saw during the pandemic how fragile those systems are, though. We also know now how fragile life itself is, and how there are no guarantees. That has made some of us turn both inward to reflect on the purposes and meanings of our own lives and outward to find ways that we can contribute to others’ quality of life. Food continues to be at the center of much this activity and actually now seems to be recognized for its potential. It turns out that it is the “small things” after all that connect us all.

 

March 29, 2020-

-I haven’t written anything for this blog in several months—last fall was incredibly busy, and I spent the first part of 2020 catching up on overdue projects. Then, news of the coronavirus (covid-19) started creeping in from China. Like many Americans, I figured this was something that would be contained and wouldn’t be a serious problem here, but I have friends and relatives living in the countries initially affected, so I followed the news closely. I curtailed my own travels and socializing before the shelter at home orders came in—and stocked up on necessary items. (Yes, I even have extra toilet paper that I’ve been sharing with friends.) 

      Now that people are finally taking Covid-19 seriously, I, like many, am noticing the role that food is playing in all of this, especially, the need to get fresh supplies. I am also noticing the ways in which food is being used to nourish connections. Many people are doing this intentionally—offering to shop for others, posting notices of restaurants still serving through delivery or take-out, posting suggestions for recipes, and offering online cooking instructions. New social media technologies are even making it possible to have virtual meals together, as well as “happy hours” with cocktails and wine (sometimes more accurately known as “wine and whines”).

     As many are pointing out, though, many such intentional displays of connecting through food are for the privileged--those of us who have well-stocked larders, easy access to clean water and cleaning supplies, time to devote to thinking about food, and enough emotional energy to think about food as an artistic and social outlet. What happens to the people who have never had to cook for themselves, to the ones who do not have basic supplies or equipment (like the large freezers in many American homes), to parents trying to deal with traumatized children, to the individuals too traumatized themselves to string together coherent steps in a recipe? 

    This might be a time to draw back and notice the “big meanings in small things.” As a folklorist, my scholarly training has always focused on the everyday, the mundane and oftentimes overlooked parts of life. In food, that means noticing—and appreciating--the the dishes and recipes that we tend not to think about too much, and that we don’t think of as special—until we don’t have them. Fresh greens for a salad? Flour or yeast to make bread? Is it risky going to the store? We also don’t have to make gourmet meals with exotic ingredients for our food to be meaningful. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich can bring back memories of childhood and be comforting. That can make it more meaningful to us than the most expensive fine dining experience.

[Photos--the one on top is my grandmother and my daughter sharing a snack. The paper of the toilet paper cake comes from a post on the Internet and the name didn't get attached to the photo. If anyone recognizes it, I would love to know who made this cake--and give them credit. I love the humor of it.)