Weekend Road Trip: Part 1

Second post today! 

We took a road trip Saturday, which ended up being a big circle. 

Our goal was Hawk's Nest State Park, where the New River Gorge Historical Society was sponsoring a ramp dinner. Ramps, for those who aren't familiar with them, are an Appalachian plant (they may grow elsewhere but I am not sure about that), that is a cross between leeks and garlic, as best I can describe them.  They grow only in certain locations, and have been sought by mountaineer as a spring tonic, and an early fresh green, for generations. 

Ramps are famous for making a dreadful stink. If you eat them raw, you will literally ooze that pungent smell from your pores for days. Boys used to wat them to get kicked out of school. But prepared properly, they are delicious (although they will still make your breath pretty strong!).  In Soring, mountaineer communities across West Virginia put on ramp "feeds" as a fundraiser and they are always well attended. 

As you can see on the above map, the first leg of the trip was easy, down I-77 to Charleston. Then we took US Route 60, the Midland Trail, which follows the Great Kanawha River to its beginning at the junction of the wild Gauley and New Rivers, we'll known for their whitewater and class 4 rapids. This route was the path for early settlers here, and is also the home of the Dickinson Salt Works. Back in the day, it was a very active coal mining area, but today many of the mines are closed. The tipple below is still operating, so there must ve a working mine or mines somewhere in the area still.

This is a beautiful drive in Spring, before the trees leaf out, because you can see the river almost the whole way, winding along on the other side of tge railroad tracks.

Another feature of this drive is waterfalls. This little falls doesn't seem to have a name I can find.

No one was there when we stopped, but there were so many butterflies! We saw this one, a red spotted admiral, I believe,

Here he is with wings folded.

And this one, o e of the comma butterflies,  but I couldn't get a good enough picture to be sure which kind.

Isn't this a great rock cliff?

If you embiggen this photo you can see some of the butterflies. It was honestly like being in a butterfly house. We saw tiger swallowtail, zebra swallowtail and a spicebush swallowtail in addition to the admirals. There must have been 50 flitting around, often flying right by our noses.

Tracks and road intertwine in several places on this road.

We passed by Kanawha Falls, where we stopped last year for lunch one day, but couldn't resist Cathedral Falls. There were quite a few people there, but only one butterfly.

First wild geraniums I have seen in bloom this spring. 

And finally, Hawk's Nest. Such a view! 

More tomorrow!

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Surprises

35 and snowing after a day in the 70's. 

This was our surprise this morning:

Well, well. And Larry just put out 4 tomato plants yesterday. He covered them last night with milk jugs so they'll be all right, but what about the more tender plants now coming up? It will get colder tonight, so I'm afraid we're going to lose a few things.

April weather, like March, can be so capricious in these mountains. We've had snow in May in the past, although usually just lasting for a few hours. And if it's 35 here on the hill, it will be at least 5 degrees colder at lower elevations. I sure feel for my neighbors who also have gardens and fruit trees. I also have small tomato and pepper plants in the little greenhouse--we may have to provide some heat for them today and tonight. A lamp would be enough, I think.

The other surprise news: I started training yesterday to work at the Riverbend Antique Mall where I have some booths. I'll basically be backup to the backup to the backup, as there are a few others who fill in when the owner is off. But there have been times when she's been in a crunch, so I will hopefully be able to cover those times. I honestly never thought I'd work in a place where I have to be there at a certain time, but here I am. The good side is that I can work on my own booth in slow times, and bring some items to list on eBay while I'm there too. This is volunteer work--it will be a nice change of pace from time to time, I bet I will hear some good stories too.

Yesterday I took in these two pieces, just finished. We'd sold a small chair and a dresser, so I just filled in the gaps. 

Monday Larry went up our driveway to cut down a big stump, and was surprised to find morel mushrooms growing around it. He'd been hunting for them all over the hills and had found enough for a couple meals but these were right in full view, and we'd almost missed them. He checked our ramp patch too. We planted some wild ones on a cool, dark holler on our place, and have been waiting 10 years for them to spread enough for us to harvest. He got enough for a nice miss of ramps and fried potatoes. If you've never heard of ramps, they're a wild onion/garlic cross that grows only in certain areas of the Appalachians and are considered a spring tonic by mountain people, and a delicacy by chefs in big cities like New York and Philadelphia--I remember a delicious meal in Philly some years ago that featured trout "with ramp". Sounded so funny because they are never called in the singular here. 

And the last surprise is a terribly sad one. My friend and poet Susan Shepherd passed away Monday in the early morning hours. She fought a brave fight, but in the end killer cancer won. Her voice will be so missed; her presence was magical, down-to-earth and yet ethereal at the same time. A medium, seer, poet, writer, actress, and so much more. Her obituary surprised me with all she accomplished in her life; although we were friends as members writing and poetry groups, and with a common interest in ghost stories, I found that I knew little about all the other aspects of her life. She was the inspiration for the ghost walk I lead, as she led such walks for years in Parkersburg, WV. I will miss her smile, her voice, her presence. 

Life and death--so inexricably linked. Small plants growing, while death stalked my friend. This path we walk is no easy one.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Ramps Lady

We had hoped to get to the higher mountains this month to find ramps, that highly flavored wild member of the onion family. But time got away from us, and neither of us felt like our knees were in good enough shape to hike the hills.

So today I stopped in town when I saw this sign:

That chance stop led to an interesting conversation with the ramp's seller, Shonna.

I mentioned that we still had plenty of dried ramps from last year.

"I guess I'm a traditionalist," Shonna said. "I think it best to eat foods in season. Ramps and dandelions and milkweed in the spring, that's when we should eat them, and not put them up for other seasons. Because then they lose their specialness, and we don't have it to look forward to."

She has a point. In our world where almost all foods are available year-round, even the specialness of strawberries has waned. We can get them anytime of the year now, where once they were a May-June treat. But, like most people, I am glad to have them whenever I want them, and I do love the ability to add the unique flavor of ramps to foods when I think it will add a new dimension to the taste.

"How do you cook your ramps?" she asked, and then went on to say, "Here's something you need to try: put some oil or grease in a pan, add a little sugar and a little vinegar, then "melt" the ramps in that. You won't believe the flavor." It sounded a lot like wilted lettuce to me, and that's a delicious dish. So I will give her recipe a try.

I asked her about milkweed. "People mess up because they don't parboil and throw the water out. You got to do that or they taste bad." Very similar to cooking pokeweed, I asked? Exactly, she said.

And then she asked, "Do you ever eat dandelions?"

"Do you mean dandelion greens?"

"No, the flower. Here's what I do. I pop the flowerheads off, and remove ALL of the stem, but leave that green part under the flower. Then wash and shake to make sure all the ants and stuff are out of them. Then roll in a batter and fry them. They taste a lot like mushrooms (meaning morels)."

"When I make my mushrooms, I soak 'em in beer, not salt water like most people do. Then I dip them in batter and fry them. Talk about good!"

I tucked my bag of ramps in the van and waved goodbye. I sure hope I run into this lady again. She's full of nature lore and wildcrafting information, not from books but from family passing it down and personal experience--a rare person these days.


Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

A Smell-Good Day

On the porch ramps are being cleaned

and made ready for fried potatoes for lunch, and the rest for drying,

the old coffee grinder is getting a cleanout and blending coffee scents with the ramps,

a chair seat is cleaned and drying in the sun before getting a new cover,

sun-dried linens are folded to be put away,

while a ragged quilt just in from the clothesline awaits a makeover,

and tiny violets add their sweetness to the perfume of redbuds, lilacs, cherry and apple blossoms.

In the kitchen, sassafras roots are scrubbed and ready to brew into tea,

It's just one of those smell-good, feel-good days.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Singing, Telling and Gathering in the Mountains

 The weather was perfect. The place was exactly right. The people were fine. The singing was superb. In other words, the weekend was about as excellent as I could have possibly imagined it to be.

We left early Friday afternoon after I finally finished up and e-filed our taxes. I was determined to not come back to that task waiting for me! We packed quickly and headed once more across West Virginia, our destination this time the gorgeous and homey Brazen Head Irish Pub and Inn in the mountains of Randolph county. Of course, I could not make the trip without stopping at a junk shop along the way, and so this rode with us into the mountains:

I wasn't sure what to expect of this trip. I had heard from a friend that a group of folksingers from the Washington DC area gathered each spring at the inn to sing for a whole weekend. I thought it sounded like heaven, but each year it seemed we had a conflict and could not attend. This year, however, the stars combined to make it possible and I grabbed the opportunity even though it meant yet another long trip this week. Our friend Jeff met us when we arrived and we quickly met several other attendees. Then we settled in for an evening of music.

And such music it was! Songs from the Civil War, silly children's songs, plaintive love ballads, country songs, parodies, and more. Everyone sang, and everyone sang along with everyone else. This group could pick up a melody and chorus faster than ice melting in boiling water! I loved every minute. I had to laugh when someone sang the country song "Crystal Chandelier"--little did they know there was an actual chandelier right outside in the parking lot! I gave up and went to bed around 1:00 am, and regretted it as soon as I was under the covers because I could hear the most amazing yodeling downstairs. Too tired to dress again and go back down, I laid there and listened, and finally drifted off.

Morning brought more singing for me, and ramp digging for Larry.You might remember my discussion of ramps in these posts.

Larry is like a kid at Christmas when ramp season arrives, and can't wait to get into the woods to find them. He returned with a huge bag full, which he shared with anyone brave enough to take them. We still brought back plenty for our own use.

I heard stories, too--the story of a mother who witnessed her son being taken to jail during the Occupy movement, the story of a tragic death, stories of World War II from a Jewish man who had been a child in London at the time of the war, stories behind songs and about singers. I believe that in order to be a good storyteller, I must first be a good listener, and I will remember the faces and the voices telling me stories I will not forget.

That evening was, guess what? More singing! I heard so many songs that I have never heard before, sung by  people who all shared a love for the old songs. I was invited to tell a ghost story, so I  told the story of Eaton's tunnel and then the one about Ikie's tomb. I went to bed filled with music and voices.

We woke this morning to a heavy frost coating the ground and the smell of sausage, coffee and blueberry pancakes wafting up from the kitchen. Will Fanning was the chef for the weekend--he is also the owner of the Brazen Head  and along with his wife Jill ensured we had everything we needed for a comfortable stay, and kept things running smoothly for us all weekend.

Our return trip included two more pleasures: the first was a visit I have been wanting to make for two years. We had stopped once at a fascinating country store called Sharp's Country Store, not far from the inn. During that visit the owner, Tom Shipley, told us some of his family's story, and also told me a strange tale about the death of a young woman in the family. The story remained with me, and I wanted to go back and hear more. Larry stopped the day before to see if Tom would have time for a visit, and was assured that we'd be more than welcome. So we once again stopped to see Tom, and he told me the story with more detail about the people involved that included a lot of his family history.

The tale also included a gravestone, and Tom asked, "Would you like to see it?" You know I did! So we all hopped into my little Buick and headed up a steep mountain road to the cemetery, which was located on the very top of the mountain.

We learned that his family owns about 1400 acres there, land that has been passed down from generation to generation. Tom is working hard to preserve that family history and the heritage he values.

When we came down from the mountain I realized what a gift I had been given--not just the story, but Tom's willingness to share his family with us. Such generosity is rare, and I treasure it.

I jotted notes quickly in my journal as we continued our way home across WV 150, otherwise known as the Scenic Highway. Remains of winter's snow still filled the ditches along the road that travels through the high country and offers breathtaking views of the valleys below.

When we eventually reached the highway, it was not long before we also reached one of my favorite places, a small picnic ground in this national forest area along the banks of the Cherry River. We had the place to ourselves; the park service had not yet officially opened it and the debris of winter's fallen limbs and trees still littered the place, but that was no problem for us.

We made quick sandwiches at a table beside the river, and speculated about the large cave-like opening in the hillside on the opposite side of the river. Was it a bear's den? I do believe it was, but did not take the footbridge across for a closer look!

And then, finally, we were home once again, greeted by happy pets, nodding flowers and the comfort of familiar things. We have rested this evening, but tomorrow we will begin getting ready for our visitors who will arrive on Friday, for next weekend's performance at the Parkersburg Celtic Festival with my friend, storyteller Lorna Czarnota, and for the house concert for her that we are giving here next Sunday. Life is never dull, and I am glad of it.

Copyright 2012 Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

For Sale: Good Taste, Mountain Style

Many of you asked about ramps--what they were, how they tasted, and how to use them. I dried the ones we harvested a couple weeks ago, and thought perhaps I would sell some since I ended up with quite a lot.

Ramps are renowned for their virulent, long-lasting aroma, but once dried they become an intriguing new flavor to add to favorite dishes. Try them mixed into fried potatoes in the last few minutes of cooking; stir some into soups and stews; add to pot roasts, tomato sauces, goulash, stir-fry and all kinds of other dishes.

You might even want to make this traditional Spring ramp dinner--scrambled eggs, applesauce, ham, fried potatoes and ramps, brown beans and cornbread. Too delicious.











Consider using dried ramps in any recipe that calls for garlic, onion, or onion/garlic salt. Add a spoonful to hamburger as you make it into patties for a really different taste. The possibilities, as you can see, are endless.










Each jar contains about 1 ounce of dried ramps, but there that is a LOT of ramps-- over 1/2 cup to be exact. That is enough to last through many, many recipes. The jars will be labeled so the postman--and your family-- doesn't get suspicious about what the green stuff might be :)

Price for per jar is $7.00 and includes all shipping and handling and can be paid for through Paypal or by check. To buy a jar, email me at susannaholstein@yahoo.com and I will send you payment information.



Add a little taste of these wild West Virginia mountains to your cooking!

In the Mountains

Our Sunday trip to the mountains was one of those spur-of-the-moment ideas. I was tired from totally revamping my booth on Saturday but as we were eating breakfast I got such a longing to see the high hills and some tumbling water. And Larry was craving ramps. He always craves ramps in the Spring so that was nothing new, but he was all for a road trip.

It was almost 11 am before we got on the way. I almost backed out. I mean really, leaving for a 3-hour drive at 11am meant we wouldn't have much time. Was it worth it?

We decided to go the back way, avoiding as much interstate as possible. That turned out to be a good decision because we found a couple yard sales on the way. Yard sales in WV on a Sunday are rare indeed! At one of them, Larry helped a lady clean ramps while I shopped. The carrying-on was awful, let me tell you. I am not sure what they made of him, but we all laughed until the tears ran down our faces. I found lots of bargains--the prices were ridiculously low. I ended up loading 5 boxes and paid them $25, which was more than what they were asking if we had added everything up, but to me it was fair and they were happy with it.

Conversations, even with strangers, can take such unexpected turns. Larry mentioned that it was April first, and one of the ladies said quietly, "My son would have been 22 this month. He was murdered in April, when he was only 17." That made me stop and pay attention. "Did you say murdered?", I asked.

"Yes, by his best friend. My son was a good boy. He asked to go into town to see his friend and I saw no reason why not. He always came home when he was supposed to. But he didn't come home this time. We found out later what happened. They made him dig his own grave, then they shot him and covered his body with concrete. We've never found the grave. The boy who killed him is in prison now, but I've never been able to bury my son."

What do you say to a story like that? What words have any meaning? All I can do is pray for her, and for her son. Such a terrible memory for a month that burgeons with life. Still, she goes on because what else is there to do? And she can laugh, and enjoy some happy moments. Grief and loss do not preclude joy and laughter, but give them more depth and meaning.

We left the ladies eventually and continued on our way. The mountains beckoned. We passed beautiful water and scenery, and some ugly as well.




Strip mines are unfortunately ruining some of the most beautiful places in this rural county.

The green trees thinned out as we climbed into the high country just south of Cowen in Webster county. By the time we reached our destination, the Williams and Cherry River country, the trees had only just begun to bud out. We scanned the hillsides for patches of bright green that might be ramps. A young man and his friend, who were out gathering morel mushrooms, assured us that there were ramps just ahead. I would rather have the mushrooms but to horn in on their territory would have been bad manners--and likely cause for a fight! And Larry was bent on ramps so onward we went.

Finally I spotted a patch of likely green. We stopped and headed into what turned out to be wildflower heaven. Trilliums, trout lilies, anemones and all sorts of other flowers were either in bloom or close to it. I wandered, snapping photos until Larry reminded me of why I was there.

But goodness, who can resist taking pictures? Especially when the trout lilies are blooming amidst the emerging mayapples?

We did find ramps, though, and plenty of them.

Larry dug most of what we found. First I had to figure out how to get down the precipitous slope with my tricky knee. Then once down, how to get to where he was. And once I found him, how to get back up the hill. It was an adventure, believe me, and me bones are still aching. Worth it? You bet. Every minute, every ache.