North Carolina – The Hungry Philosopher

Where the Crawdads Sing – A story of grits to polenta

September 14, 2022Leave a comment

[spoiler alert: if you haven’t read the book or seen the movie stop now]

What if grits play the role of barometer for character development in the coming-of-age mystery drama novel (now a movie) Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens?

Following this suspicion, I searched the book’s index for “grits”: It shows up 52 times. This number includes the 2 times “grit” is referenced in her character. Seems poetically appropriate that Kya’s character of survival and self-preservation would reveal grit, through grits.

Let’s look at the story through the perspective of grits in 5 quotes…

“Kya was very hungry. For breakfast she’d boiled grits with soda crackers stirred in because she didn’t have any salt. One thing she already knew about life: you can’t eat grits without salt.”

Left alone at age 7 the challenge to feed herself fuels the story arc. Modifying the recipe for grits to include crackers with salt shows Kya’s resourcefulness.

“In a few days she got the hang of fixing grits, although no matter how hard she stirred, they lumped up some. The next week she bought backbones—marked with a red tag—and boiled them with grits and collard greens in a mush that tasted fine.”

Kya continues to adapt her grits recipe to become inclusive of any surplus flavor while working to smooth the texture.

“She lived on dried fish, mussels, oysters. Grits and greens.”

This menu defines Kya’s childhood between what she could gather herself and the grits she bought at the store. Her complete dependence on coastal North Carolina for food, safety, and learning makes her a creature of the marsh: the marsh girl.

“Each morning they rose at dawn and, while Tate percolated coffee, Kya fried corn fritters in Ma’s old iron skillet—blackened and dented—or stirred grits and eggs as sunrise eased over the lagoon.”

Further along the storyline, her recipe evolves to include more ingredients and skills, as she shares her meals with Tate.

“Almost every shop had a special table displaying the books by Catherine Danielle Clark ~ Local Author ~ Award-Winning Biologist. Grits were listed on the menus as polenta in mushroom sauce and cost $6.00.”

Towards the end of the book, grits are no longer food for survival and becomes food for adoring fans and travelers to the area.

In contrast, notice the use of “grit” in the book to highlight a decisive moment of loss,

“Dug sweaty cheese from her bag. Then slumped on the floor and ate mindlessly, touching her bruised cheek. Her face, arms, and legs were cut and smeared with bloody grit. Knees scratched and throbbing. She sobbed, fighting shame, suddenly spitting the cheese out in a chunky, wet spray.”

Grit and grits, strength in the face of loss, and food for survival implicate each other in the book. Unfortunately, grits as a character barometer in the book Where the Crawdads Sing was lost in the movie.

Maybe have a bowl of grits to make up for the omission after watching the movie.

More about grits here: https://islandlifenc.com/a-guide-to-southern-grits/

Today is the first day of Hispanic Heritage, why not combine the stories of survival in a bowl?

Here is a recipe for creamy grits from one of my favorite cookbooks, Turnip Green and Tortillas: A Mexican Cook Spices up the Southern Kitchen.

1-quart heavy cream

1 cup quick grits (not instant)

¼ cup sugar

1½ teaspoons salt, plus additional as desired

Bring the cream to a boil in a large saucepan over medium-high heat. Watch carefully so it doesn’t boil over. While continually whisking, add the grits and cook, whisking, for 5 minutes. Add the sugar and salt and cook, whisking frequently, for an additional 5 to 10 minutes, until the grits are tender. Serve hot.

The cookbook also offers a lighter version and a blue cheese version. I know adding cream to grits can be controversial.

Make grits the way you want when summoning your grit. What food would you choose to be the barometer of your evolution?

Wishing you a full bowl,

Hungryphil

Owens, Delia. Where the Crawdads Sing. Penguin Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Hernandez, Eddie; Puckett, Susan. Turnip Greens & Tortillas: A Mexican Chef Spices Up the Southern Kitchen (p. 175). HMH Books. Kindle Edition.

A watched pot (turtle nest) boils in Oak Island

July 26, 20222 Comments

A volunteer waved us left as we approached the tiny runway shaped to help guide baby turtles towards the sea. During our evening walks we noticed these small runways lined with green edges, centers brushed smooth carefully made ready for turtle nests incubating in the warm July sand past 50 days.

“They’re coming. Please walk over and behind.” The excitement of new life. A small group of people composed of “nest mothers”, volunteers, and the vacationing and local curious was hovering over the patch of sand with a square grate the size of a doormat. The patch had a small crack where the sand caved in the size of my hand. This was an indication of restlessness, cracking, and movement below. The crowd of children, adults and more volunteers grew on either side of the runway as the sun began to set. We all waited. And waited. So did the turtles. They were waiting for the sand to cool as a sign of the waning sun that would make it easier to hide from predators. As the sun dipped, they rose and boiled like small dark shadows rising out of the growing hole in the ground.

Am I seeing this? The instinct is to shed light on this miracle. But light is exactly what they are avoiding. Light disorients budding life. They turn away and go in the wrong direction. “They have been listening to the ocean this whole time, they know to move towards the sound,” a volunteer explained while encouraging us to use our “inside voices” so the turtles can hear the ocean calling them. Or is it the magnetic pull? The ocean is like the mother’s heartbeat for a human baby emerging out of a uterine water sac. The baby moves towards the light, and a turtle also moves towards the moonlight on the water. Lights on the beach confuse them, they move in the wrong direction away from the water and into the grips of a predator. The beauty of turtles rising together. This I’ve learned affords survival of the species, many are sacrificed to predators so a few can live and serve a larger commitment to life. We humans have so much to learn from these tiny dark, squiggly, directed shadows. We can stand by, watch, guide, and mostly care enough to stay out of their way and keep other humans from staying out of their way…waving them to go around or stop shining light on the fragile eyes looking for the ocean. It is a practice of humble awe. A gentle suggestion that perhaps we are not the center of all life.

Sea turtles are a protected species. The Oak Island Turtle Protection Program is on a mission to monitor and protect the sea turtles and to foster community-based conservation…basically to wave us away from trampling the turtles and to welcome us to come close without shining light and with hushed reverence. In the three weeks of living here sitting on the sand alongside the turtle runway was the first and most satisfying sense of community I have experienced. No power, monetization, or exclusivity. The simplicity of a random community of curious humans channeling and watching small shadows scurry to glistening dark waves. It was magnificent.

The turtles are protected from industrial pollution and natural predators. We are among that list of natural predators. In my efforts to learn about the region I now call home, I researched a few cookbooks available at the local library. One of the cookbooks entitled “The Beachcomber’s Handbook of Seafood Cookery” by Hugh Zachary (1969) shares a Sea Turtle Stew recipe. The author prefaces the recipe with a story about gathering eggs from the beach, a culture of turtle hunting, followed by a plea. He writes,

“I saw a couple of huge loggerheads that had been killed, wantonly killed, on Long Beach, not for their meat, but just for the fun of killing something so large, apparently. I like turtles. I like turtles better than I like some people – namely people who would kill a big loggerhead just for the experience. Loggerhead turtles are a vanishing breed. It’s fun to go turtle hunting during a full moon in a warm month on a nice night. It’s an interesting experience to find a big turtle on her nest and watch her lay eggs and cover them with her awkward, instinctive, and utterly laborious movements. My sympathy goes out to the big beast who comes out of her natural element to try to fight the odds against the survival of her species.
Let’s don’t eat loggerheads.”
Zachary, Hugh. (1969) The Beachcomber’s Handbook of Seafood Cookery. Kingsport Press: Tennessee.

On the margins of this recipe page, the library added a note about the law protecting sea turtles.

from the *Beachcomber’s Handbook of Seafood Cookery* (1969)

We humans can be both predators and conservators, vicious and curious. Sitting there watching the baby turtles a representation of life itself flapping, flailing, scurrying, blind and confused, I was reminded of the choice. As food curious as I am, I am okay letting turtle meat remain a mystery. I don’t know what my line is for eating other living beings, is it endangered animals? Or like Mr. Rogers who avoided anything that had a mother? Eat flesh out of necessity or politeness? Practice a generally plant-based diet? I don’t have my own answer, let alone have one for you. All I can say is that I hope to be aware of and own my choices today. Tomorrow may be different. Last evening it felt good to be among a community of humans who chose to stand together and aside watching life emerge out of a dark small crack in the earth.

Thank you baby turtles. I hope you live a long life and return to this beach as a place of safety and care. We’ll wait for you.

For lunch today, cereal with frozen blueberries sounds refreshing.

Wishing you thoughtful eating,

hungryphil

Eating Through Oak Island and Southport, NC – Part 1

March 23, 2022March 23, 2022Leave a comment

In preparation and eager anticipation for our move to Oak Island, North Carolina, my husband and I have been visiting the island, both on and off-season. The past week, mid-march was our third visit. The first was in last June when we fell in love with the place and bought our home. The second visit, in October, was the first time on the island as invested future residents. During these three visits, we have enjoyed a wide spectrum of tasty treats and meals.

The first lesson about Oak Island is that looks can be pleasantly and surprisingly deceiving. The unassuming appearance of a restaurant may not reflect the care and craft in the food. Like the Tardis, and my little house, things are more impressive on the inside. No unnecessary shiny, glitz, and glamor competing with the majesty of the beach, sky, and sea creatures. Oak Island accepts the beach as the main event and priority. And, it is worth the adoration.

The second lesson, for me, was that while options may be limited, most restaurants are kindly willing to explain the dish and hold an ingredient if needed. When in doubt, just ask. I did not miss pre-prepared fast food at all.

The third lesson, related to the second, is that there are so many temptations for someone watching sugar and dairy. Doughnuts, pies, cakes, and ice cream everywhere! Can’t say I mind. The honey butter with cornbread…decadent. This is a place of summer simplicity, celebration, and joy. Enjoy the cake! Especially the coconut-key-lime piecaken from Swains. Yum!

This quick post is limited to our last visit and stomach space. It also does not include the many very worthy restaurants closed for the season. Very much looking forward to continuing on this North Carolina food adventure.

So here is my incomplete list for now…with more to come…