Here’s my latest column for HD Media:

Mountain Dew has long been the preferred beverage in Appalachia.

It has just taken on a few different forms over the years.

In the first part of the 1900s, “Mountain Dew“ referred to moonshine, the illegal, potent whiskey.

In the latter part of the 1900s, “Mountain Dew” referred to an electric green citrus soda high in caffeine.

Both, though, have deep roots in the Appalachian Mountains.

Bubbly Beginnings

In the late 1920s, a Knoxville, Tennessee, entrepreneur named Max Licht developed a brand new soda. At the time, soft drinks were rising in popularity as an alternative to alcohol and were even often touted as medicinal.

Licht’s soda was clear, like moonshine, but contained no alcohol. He playfully named the drink Mountain Dew in its honor.

“Mountain Dew” had been used for generations to describe homemade whiskey, often produced in secrecy in the remote mountains of Appalachia.

Do The Dew

The concept was revived in the 1940s when Tennessee beverage bottlers Barney and Ally Hartman created their version as a mixer for alcoholic beverages.

In 1947, the brothers began selling it to the general public. Like the earlier version, it was a clear and caffeine-free citrus soda.

That all changed in the 1950s when the Tip Corporation of Marion, Virginia, acquired the rights to the drink and reformulated the beverage with a sharper citrus profile, bright color and tons of caffeine.

Appalachian Affair

Up until this point, Mountain Dew was a regional product, primarily consumed in Tennessee and nearby areas. Advertisements played up its Appalachian roots and ties to moonshine. The company's mascot was "Willy the Hillbilly," and the label included a blurb touting its "flavors specially blended in the traditional hillbilly style."

While these campaigns were criticized by some for reinforcing stereotypes, they also played a significant role in increasing the drink’s popularity in the very region they parodied. Mountain Dew’s irreverent tone and bold flavor resonated with Appalachians, many of whom saw the beverage as a product that reflected, even if imperfectly, a part of their cultural identity.

Pepsi purchased the soda in 1964. While the soda went nationwide throughout the 1970s and 1980s, Mountain Dew simultaneously became increasingly entrenched in Appalachian communities. Its availability, and strong association with regional pride helped cement its place not only as a popular refreshment but also as a kind of cultural badge.

Flavor Of The Future

It is now the fifth most popular soda in the United States, with Appalachia accounting for a significant portion of Mountain Dew purchases.

In fact, Appalachia may love Mountain Dew too much. Some public health experts believe the soda negatively impacts the region's health and coined the term "Mountain Dew mouth" to describe tooth decay from drinking too much of the soda.

Regardless, Mountain Dew’s popularity continues to grow. Mountain Dew is a billion-dollar brand with a wide array of spin-off flavors, national promotions, and high-profile sponsorships.

And in Appalachia, the soda retains a stronger connection. From its tongue-in-cheek connection to moonshine to its place in our cultural lexicon, Mountain Dew’s roots run deep in the hills and hollers of Appalachia.

Here's my latest column for the Charleston Gazette-Mai:

In Appalachia, spring doesn’t just arrive—it creeps in slowly, teasing warm days before pulling back with a late frost.

The mountains drop signals of spring: the first daffodils in fields, birds chirping in the morning and forsythia exploding in golden fire along fencerows.

But the real herald of spring, the one that says winter has finally loosened its grip, is the redbud tree.

Scattered along roadsides and tucked into the edges of forests, redbuds light up the hillsides in a brilliant shade of magenta.

The best part? Those bright little flowers aren’t just pretty—they’re edible.

The Eastern Redbud (Cercis canadensis) tree is native to Appalachia and indigenous peoples have used the flowers, buds and seed pods as a food and medicinal source for centuries.

Redbud is rich in Vitamin C, antioxidants and protein, which made it a nutritious and beneficial addition to a healthy diet. The high Vitamin C content supports immune health, while antioxidants help combat free radicals and reduce inflammation. Additionally, the protein found in redbud flowers can contribute to muscle repair and overall wellness.

The different parts of the redbud each have a mild, sweet and slightly tangy flavor, and a crisp texture. They can be eaten raw, such as in a spring salad, or pickled with vinegar for a dressing. They can be steeped in hot water to create a delicate tea or made into a jelly to enjoy year round.

Tip: Redbud trees don’t have toxic lookalikes, but it’s always important to consult a local foraging expert if you’re not certain. And avoid trees that may have been exposed to pesticides.

Over time, redbud has remained a seasonal delicacy, often foraged by those who carry on the traditions of wildcrafting and herbalism. Today, chefs and home cooks alike unlock redbud’s culinary potential, incorporating it into Appalachian-inspired dishes that celebrate the region’s deep connection to nature. Its presence in modern kitchens reflects a broader revival of foraging and sustainable food traditions that honor Appalachia’s rich cultural and ecological heritage.

Foraging for items like redbud isn’t just a trend in Appalachia; it’s a way of life that has sustained families for generations. The knowledge of what’s edible and what’s not has been passed down through storytelling and lived experience. Appalachians have always known how to make the most of what nature provides, and redbuds are no exception.

It’s fitting, then, that they’ve quietly become part of our food traditions. So, next time you see a redbud tree in full bloom, don’t just admire it—gather a few blossoms and bring them into your kitchen. Add them to a salad, tuck them into biscuits, or try your hand at this simple, beautiful redbud jelly recipe.

Here is my latest column for the Charleston Gazette-Mail:

Stuffed peppers have a long and diverse history, with variations appearing in cuisines across the globe.

The concept of stuffing vegetables is centuries old, and peppers, which are native to the Americas, are a popular choice due to their hollow cavity and bitter flavor.

Countries in the Mediterranean and Middle East stuff their peppers with rice, herbs and sometimes ground meat.

In Eastern Europe, stuffed peppers are typically filled with ground pork or beef, rice, and spices, then simmered in a tomato-based sauce.

Mexico’s chile relleno consists of a poblano pepper stuffed with cheese or other fillings.

In Appalachia, “mangoes” are used.

No, not those kind.

In parts of Ohio, Kentucky, and West Virginia, older generations sometimes refer to bell peppers as “mangoes.”

This unusual term dates back to at least the 19th century and has roots in food preservation methods.

“When mango fruits were first imported to the United States, they had to be pickled, since there weren’t any refrigerators. This was true of many other fruits and vegetables that weren’t native to North America, so many of them were also pickled,” according to Mango.com.

“Eventually, “mango” referred to anything that was pickled, which included green peppers. As the veggies became more popular, ‘mango’ just became synonymous with ‘green pepper,’ and it’s stuck in some of the midwest states.”

People mistook the term mango as the process, rather than the fruit, according to Lori Fogg, author of the food blog, A Coalcracker in the Kitchen:

“Some seem to think that this originated with coal miners in eastern Pennsylvania in the 1870s. The Pennsylvania Board of Agriculture referred to them as mango peppers in 1879, and the Ohio Board of Agriculture referred to them the same in their 1896 annual report.”

“Many old local recipes call for ‘mangoes’ when really meaning green peppers. In Cincinnati, in the Forest Hills School district in the 1960s and ‘70s, the term ‘stuffed mangoes’ was used on the school menu.”

Now, it’s less common to see the word “mango” used for green peppers in our region. But stuffing them remains a staple in Appalachian cuisine.

Like any good recipe that stands the test of time in Appalachia, stuffed peppers draw on a few key characteristics: local foods, hearty ingredients, preservation and practicality.

Appalachian cooking is known for making the most of what’s available. Stuffed peppers allow families to stretch ground meat by mixing it with rice or breadcrumbs, making an affordable and filling meal.

Even if it doesn’t contain mangoes.

Here's my latest column for the WV Gazette-Mail:

Creamed, chipped beef on toast, often referred to by the military nickname “S.O.S.” — a shorthand for “Stuff on a Shingle,” with more colorful interpretations in less formal settings — is both a nostalgic comfort food for some and a chided necessity for others.

This humble dish is made of thinly sliced dried beef served in a creamy white sauce over toasted or plain bread.

As a quick aside: What IS dried beef? Just like it sounds. It’s a form of salted and dried beef that is sliced into small, thin pieces and sold in jars or small packets. It is also a common ingredient used to coat a cheeseball.

The dish has roots in military mess halls. The dish’s affordability, ease of preparation and long shelf life made it ideal for feeding large numbers of soldiers.

The recipe appeared in Army cookbooks as early as World War I, but it became particularly associated with the lean years of the Great Depression and World War II. When soldiers returned home, they brought the recipe with them, embedding it into the culinary traditions of their communities.

For Appalachia, a region often shaped by economic challenges and a culture of making do with what was available, creamed, chipped beef on toast fits perfectly into the local food culture.

The dish can be made from pantry staples like dried beef, flour, butter, and milk, ingredients that were often on hand and not dependent upon seasonal produce.

In Appalachia, S.O.S. found a home as a hearty breakfast or dinner. The region’s labor-intensive industries, from coal mining to farming, demanded meals that were filling, affordable, and quick to prepare.

Families embraced the meal for its ability to stretch a small amount of meat into a meal that could feed everyone around the table. It remains a memory — for better or for worse — for those who grew up with it.

It’s a dish that tells the story of perseverance through tough times, creativity in the face of scarcity, and the deep connection people have to food.

Here's my latest column for the Charleston Gazette-Mail:

The more, the merrier. At least that’s the case when it comes to candy bar components.

Marshmallow. Caramel. Nougat. Nuts. Cookie. Cream. Coconut.

The first retail confection to venture beyond just plain chocolate or another singular ingredient was created right here in Appalachia.

In 1912, the Standard Candy Company in Nashville, Tennessee, invented the “Goo Goo Cluster” in a copper kettle.

Known as a “combination” candy bar, the Goo Goo Cluster was the first candy bar in America being mass produced to contain more than one principle element.

The round cluster consists of caramel, marshmallow nougat, fresh roasted peanuts and milk chocolate.

The hand-dipped sweet was gathered into a mound, which bucked the trend of conventional rectangular or square shapes at the time.

Initially, the candy was sold under glass at drug store candy counters. Years later, the Goo Goo Cluster would be swaddled in tinfoil.

Due to its renegade shape, the Goo Goo Cluster was more difficult to wrap than other candies of the day.

But eventually, machinery was put in place to automate wrapping the Goo Goo Cluster, which is how they’re sold in stores today.

You’ll find the classic version, as well as two variations: “Pecan,” which replaces the peanuts with pecans and “Peanut Butter,” which replaces the marshmallow nougat and caramel with peanut butter.

While those two names are pretty self-explanatory, what about the original candy itself?

It turns out that while brainstorming a name for the new candy, one of the founders’ sons recently said his first words: “goo goo.”

That’s how the first slogan was born: “Goo Goo! It’s so good, people will ask for it from birth.”

The Goo Goo Cluster can be seen as a sweet reminder of Appalachian traditions, values and ingenuity.

It embodies the region’s ability to create something extraordinary from the ordinary, leaving a lasting impression on the culinary — and confectionary — history of Appalachia.

Here is my latest column for the Charleston Gazette-Mail:

The quintessential Christmas cookie tray often includes peanut butter blossoms with the Hershey Kiss in the center, classic sugar cookies in the shape of trees and bells and maybe some peanut brittle for a mix of sweet and salty.

Peanut brittle is a smooth, flat candy broken into shards with peanuts embedded inside. It is buttery, crunchy, nutty – and will add some West Virginia folklore flare to your platter.

Much like how folk heroes Johnny Appleseed planted apple trees down the coast and John Henry raced a steam-powered drill, Tony Beaver – a giant lumberjack who lived in the mountains of West Virginia – brought us peanut brittle.

Tony Beaver’s adventures were created by the West Virginia “woodhicks,” a common term for loggers in the state from 1880 to 1920, according to e-WV: The West Virginia Encyclopedia Online, when they would try to out-lie each other during evenings in the logging camps.

Known as a cousin to Paul Bunyan, Tony Beaver was said to have been born regular-size but grew to 18 feet tall and operated a lumbering camp up on the mountain on the mythical “Eel River.” He was friends with two giant oxen, Hannibal and Goliath, invented both clothespins and match sticks, and grew jumbo-sized watermelons and peanuts.

During one particularly rainy summer, the Eel River rose to alarming heights, and the village people begged Tony Beaver to save their town from flooding. He loaded his giant peanuts into wagons and instructed the townspeople to shell and toss them into the river, while his logging crew dumped barrels of molasses into the water to slow it down. As the river churned and toiled the peanuts and molasses, it created a thick, golden brown sludge that hardened, creating a dam and halting the rising river.

After the weather returned to normal, Tony Beaver took a giant ax to the dam, shattering it into shards and creating the world’s first peanut brittle candy that the villagers exclaimed was “dam good.”

Another common origin story is one of a southern cook who, while making taffy, accidentally added baking soda instead of cream of tartar, creating the hard, brittle structure instead of a stretchy taffy one.

Regardless of how the confection arrived in the region, peanut brittle rose to popularity in the 19th century and gained traction in the American south where peanuts helped make the dessert versatile and affordable.

Made from sugar, peanuts, and a touch of baking soda that is carefully boiled, stirred and poured onto a cool slab, peanut brittle helps tell a story of resourcefulness.

In Appalachia, where families rely on locally sourced ingredients and creative cooking methods, peanut brittle quickly found a home. The candy’s long shelf life made it ideal for preserving a sweet treat during leaner months, and its simple preparation ensured it could be made even in kitchens with modest resources. By the 20th century, peanut brittle had become a hallmark of Appalachian kitchens, with recipes passed down through generations.

Recipes are frequently handwritten on stained recipe cards or remembered by heart, ensuring that the candy remains a link to past generations. Each bite carries with it the flavors of tradition and the pride of preserving a regional favorite.

Peanut brittle embodies the region’s ingenuity, using simple ingredients to create something delightful. It connects people to their past, with each recipe telling a story of family, tradition, and community - perfect for the holidays.

Here's my latest column:

Many are familiar with the well-known snack created in Appalachia that drew inspiration from the coal mining community.

Delicious. Portable. Perfect for a lunch pail.

But, wait. We’re not talking about pepperoni rolls — not today. Nope. Today, we’re discussing the MoonPie.

That’s right. The celestial snack coated in chocolate with a marshmallow center and graham cracker cookies all started with a coal miner.

“It all began in 1917 when a KY coal miner asked our traveling salesman for a snack ‘as big as the moon,’” according to the MoonPie website.

That salesman worked for the Chattanooga Bakery in Chattanooga, Tennessee, which had already been producing over 100 items at the time.

“Earl Mitchell reported back and the bakery obliged with a tasty treat aptly named MoonPie. It was filling, fit in the lunch pail and the coal miners loved it. The rest, as they say, is history,” reads the website.

Selling for just 5 cents each, the MoonPie was affordable and tasty. It flew off the shelves, and by 1929, hundreds were produced every day.

Over the years, the MoonPie became firmly embedded in Appalachian culture — from providing a taste of home to soldiers deployed overseas during WWII to feeding a generation of Baby Boomers growing up needing a quick, affordable snack.

Today, 1 million MoonPies are produced each day and have expanded to include flavors such as banana, strawberry, pumpkin spice, blueberry, mint, salted caramel and vanilla. They also come in double-decker size and mini size.

The snack also shares a cultural tie with RC Cola. The pairing of a MoonPie and RC Cola was popularized during the mid-20th century, becoming a working-class lunch special throughout the South and Appalachia. For many, this combination represented an affordable luxury—two classic items that offered a taste of indulgence.

MoonPie’s accessibility made it popular during economic hard times, particularly in rural areas where homemade sweets were often a luxury. Today, Moon Pies are still a common sight at gas stations, country stores, and festivals across Appalachia.

The snack has remained a staple of Southern comfort food, symbolizing simplicity and nostalgia for generations in the region and beyond.

Here is my latest column for the Charleston Gazette-Mail:

Few drinks are as symbolic of southern culture as the burgundy soda found in convenience stores and gas stations across the region.

Cheerwine, a cherry-flavored soft drink, has been a staple in the Appalachian south for more than a century. Born in Salisbury, North Carolina, in 1917, the soda was created by general store owner L.D. Peeler amid a sugar shortage. He discovered he could use less sugar with the punchy cherry flavor and still deliver a delicious drink.

The effervescent beverage stood out amongst the more common colas and root beer sodas at the time. Though Cheerwine is named for its cherry hue and not for any alcoholic content, it gained immediate popularity as a refreshing, non-alcoholic alternative.

Cheerwine slowly expanded across the Appalachian region, spreading its cherry goodness into Virginia, Tennessee, West Virginia, and beyond. And in doing so, it evolved into more than just a sweet and slightly tangy drink. It became a representation of place and a point of pride.

And, its application evolved as well.

“In addition to being great on its own, Cheerwine is the most versatile soft drink around,” reads the website. “Our unique cherry taste does wonders for all types of food and drink recipes. From smoothing out hot wings to adding that great cherry flavor to brownies, the possibilities are endless”

Cheerwine’s signature sweetness and subtle tang complement a wide variety of dishes, from glazed ham to baked beans. In some parts of Appalachia, you’ll even find recipes passed down through generations that incorporate the soda, with cooks using it to marinate meats, sweeten sauces or even add to desserts.

But perhaps the most famous Cheerwine-inspired dish is barbecue sauce. The deep cherry notes are sweet, tangy, and rich; it’s a perfect match for many of the region’s traditional foods like slow-cooked pork, fried chicken and more. The barbecue sauce has gained a cult following and can be found in local restaurants as a wing flavor or paired with jalapeño poppers.

Cheerwine’s distinct flavor, history, and deep roots in the region make it a beloved icon in the region. For many in Appalachia, Cheerwine represents more than just a soft drink—it’s a connection to the past. Whether it’s sipping a bottle of Cheerwine on a front porch or passing down family recipes that incorporate the soda, there’s a sense of pride and tradition that surrounds it.

Here is my latest column for the Charleston Gazette–Mail:

One sweet Appalachian celebration is anything but cookie-cutter.

In the heart of Western Pennsylvania and its surrounding regions, there exists a unique tradition that brings the community together: the Pittsburgh Cookie Table.

Often seen at weddings, graduations, and other milestone celebrations, the Pittsburgh Cookie Table is the designated dessert option that is full of homemade cookies gifted from loved ones. It is more than just a display of sugary treats; the custom is a symbol of community, love, and the enduring power of shared traditions.

The origins of the Pittsburgh Cookie Table are as varied as the cookies that adorn it. While the exact beginnings of the tradition are difficult to pinpoint, it is widely believed to have roots in the early 20th century, brought over by Italian and Eastern European immigrants who settled in the steel towns of Pittsburgh and the surrounding Appalachian areas.

These communities, many of which faced economic hardships, found ways to celebrate life's significant moments without the need for extravagant spending. The cookie table became a way for families and friends to contribute to a communal celebration, each offering their own homemade cookies as a gesture of love and support.

There are buttery Italian wedding cookies and delicate ladyfingers to rich chocolate chip cookies and intricate pizzelles. Polish kolaczki, Greek koulourakia, German spritz cookies and Italian biscotti. This diversity reflects the culinary journey through the region’s heritage.

Those cookies are a mixture of family favorites, fun finds and creative spins. Each cookie carries with it a story—a grandmother’s cherished recipe, a new creation shared by a friend, or a classic treat passed down through generations.

The cookie table is an expected and cherished part of any significant celebration — often taking center stage, with guests eagerly anticipating the moment they can sample the homemade confections. Guests are encouraged to fill small boxes or bags to take cookies home.

In many families, the recipes used for the cookie table have been handed down through the years, often with little variation. Grandparents teach their grandchildren the art of making the perfect butter cookie or the secret to achieving the ideal crispness in a biscotti. These baking sessions become opportunities for storytelling, with each recipe carrying the weight of history and the warmth of familial love. It’s a tradition that encapsulates the resilience, generosity and character of the people of the region.

Here is my latest column in the Charleston Gazette-Mail: West Virginians are well acquainted with the virtues of buckwheat. But maybe less so with its relative, sorrel.

Sorrel, a perennial herb, is part of the buckwheat family and is known for its sharp and lemony flavor.

The herb is tangy and versatile and has carved a niche for itself in the culinary landscape of Appalachia.

Sorrel (Rumex acetosa) has been a part of Appalachian cuisine for generations, intertwining with the region's rich cultural heritage and diverse food traditions.

Its history in Appalachia can be traced back to European settlers who brought the plant with them as they migrated to the region. The herb's adaptability to various climates and soil types made it a natural fit for the Appalachian region, where it thrived in the temperate mountain environment.

Sorrel's tart, citrus-like flavor makes it a versatile ingredient; it can be used both fresh and cooked, adding a bright, refreshing note to dishes.

Soup is a popular use for the herb, often made with potatoes and leeks. It is typically pureed to create a smooth, velvety texture, with the sorrel imparting a vibrant green color and tangy taste.

In addition to soups, sorrel can be used in salads, sauces, and as a garnish. A classic Appalachian preparation involves blending sorrel with other wild greens to create a "spring tonic" salad, believed to cleanse the body after a long winter.

Sorrel can also be made into a sauce, tart or pie. It is also sometimes preserved, ensuring that its unique flavor can be enjoyed year-round.

Sorrel's role in Appalachian culture extends beyond its culinary uses. The herb can serve as a symbol of the region's resourcefulness and connection to the land.

Sorrel's journey in Appalachia is a testament to the region's rich culinary heritage. From its historical roots as a medicinal plant and staple green to its modern-day resurgence as a celebrated ingredient, sorrel embodies the spirit of Appalachian cuisine: resourceful, flavorful, and deeply rooted in tradition.

Here is my latest column for the Charleston Gazette-Mail.

A few of life’s simple pleasures are trumpet-shaped: campanelle pasta with its petal-like edges, the beautiful brugmansia flower know as “Angels’ Trumpet” and chanterelle mushrooms with their wavy cap edges.

Chanterelles (Cantharellus) are bright orange fungi that pop up from late spring into early autumn in small woodlands throughout Appalachia and have a peppery, slightly nutty flavor; a firm, meaty texture; and a fruity apricot scent.

Joining the likes of morel mushrooms, chicken of the woods mushrooms and oyster mushrooms, wild chanterelles have been collected for years as part of Appalachia’s rich foraging history.

The foraged bounty can be made into dishes like wild mushroom soup, chanterelle and cornbread stuffing, sauteed chanterelles with potatoes, wild mushroom gravy, and simple battered and fried mushrooms.

Chanterelles gained worldwide popularity in the 18th century when the delicacy became integral to French cuisine and was included in many classic dishes:

- chanterelle veloute, which is a rich and creamy soup made with onions, garlic, cream and sherry;
- chanterelle and gruyere tart, which is a savory tart made with a buttery crust, cheese and custard;
- and omelette aux girolles, which is an omelet filled with chanterelles, shallots and fresh herbs like parsley or chives. It wasn’t long before chanterelles became a well-established gourmet ingredient.

The golden chanterelle is the most well-known and sought-after species, though there are similar edible species, like white chanterelles and red chanterelles.

But, there are also mushrooms that look similar that are not edible, specifically the jack-o’-lantern mushroom. The jack-o’-lantern mushroom has a similar orange-yellow color, but features differences in gills, growth pattern, smell and habitat.

*Disclaimer: Foraging for wild mushrooms can be dangerous if you are not experienced and knowledgeable about mushroom identification. Consuming the wrong mushrooms can lead to severe illness or death. Always forage with an expert or consult reliable resources to ensure the mushrooms you collect are safe to eat.

Chanterelles are a tasty, savory morsel rooted in the rich, natural heritage of Appalachia. These foraged finds speak to not only the storied past, but also the ingenuitive future of the region. Chanterelles bring the trumpet to a delicious Appalachian symphony.

Here's my latest column:

Bologna played a starring role in my youth.

Paired with the co-stars of white bread, Kraft American singles and Miracle Whip, bologna sandwiches kept my belly full for many of my grade school years.

And it kept my studies strong: I have the Oscar Meyer lunch meat to thank for learning how to spell b-o-l-o-g-n-a. (“Baloney,” on the other hand, is actually a slang term for nonsense.)

The deli meat is inexpensive, which is often its primary selling point, and is traditionally made with odds and ends of chicken, turkey, beef or pork. It is similar to the Italian mortadella, which originated in the Italian city of Bologna - hence the name.

While cost is often a factor in foods’ popularity throughout Appalachia, historically, preservation has also been key to ensure food is available year-round during harsh winters or difficult crop seasons.

Enter: Pickled Bologna.

Pickled bologna is that same fine processed mix of poultry and beef innards and trimmings but formed into a rope and submerged in vinegar to create a tangy, salty delicacy. Best served with saltines.

Giant jars filled with coiled bologna ropes can sometimes be found on countertops of small corner stores or gas stations. Though the practice is less common today, rural stores would sell individual hunks of the bologna from the jar and place it onto wax or butcher paper for customers to enjoy as a treat.

For many, pickled bologna is a staple at ballpark games or family reunions. It can serve as a zesty meat as part of a charcuterie board and pairs perfectly with pumpernickel bread and grainy mustard.

While many people today would eschew the idea of bologna - let alone pickled bologna - the notion behind the foodstuff helps provide a window into Appalachian cuisine. Appalachians have always been innovative and steadfast; and it often leads to some of the tastiest creations.

Here's my latest newspaper column:

It’s a small, round berry that comes in shades of purple and black. It’s sweet and has notes of vanilla and cherry.

And, most importantly, they hit the peak of freshness right now - in June.

Juneberries can be found across Appalachia on rocky hillsides, edges of forests and well-draining soils.

The shrubs are known for their white blossoms in early spring, which later give way to clusters of juneberries. They’re also referred to as Saskatoon, shadbush, serviceberries or sarvis berries.

The name “serviceberry” is believed to have originated from the Appalachian tradition of conducting burial services in early spring once the ground has thawed, coinciding with the bloom of the serviceberry, or juneberry.

Indigenous peoples of the Appalachians, such as the Cherokee and Iroquois, valued juneberries for their nutritional benefits and versatility. They used the berries not only as a food source but also in traditional medicine, recognizing their high vitamin and antioxidant content.

Early European settlers learned from Native Americans how to incorporate these berries into their diets, especially during the lean months when other food sources were scarce.

Juneberries became a staple in pies, jams, and as a natural sweetener.

Juneberries continue to hold a special place in the hearts and traditions of local communities in Appalachia.

The berries are an ingredient in many traditional recipes used today. Pies, cobblers, jams, and jellies are among the most popular ways to enjoy juneberries. They can also be dried and used in baking or as a snack, much like raisins.

The berries, though, are often difficult to grow commercially. So, if you endeavor to forage for your own juneberries, be sure to do so safely and consult multiple sources of information to identify them correctly before enjoying.

Juneberries are more than just a beloved fruit in Appalachia; they are a symbol of the region’s rich history and food traditions. Using these foraged treasures help tell the story of bounty of the mountains — while providing a delicious berry bite. 

Here's my latest column for the newspaper:

Spring paints a landscape of blooming tulips, chirping birds and light rain showers across West Virginia.

It also ushers in a season of new life and rebirth, celebrated as part of the Christian holiday of Easter. And Easter means “Church Lady Eggs” in much of Appalachia.

Sure, there are plenty of types of eggs due to their symbolism during this time of year: Cadbury Creme Eggs, Reese’s Milk Chocolate Peanut Butter Eggs, and Whoppers Robin Eggs Malted Milk Balls.

But Church Lady Eggs hit different.

They are sweetened peanut butter mounds formed into the shape of an egg and dipped in milk chocolate — often handmade by women from a local church and sold to raise funds for the congregation.

The tradition likely developed in Pennsylvania Dutch and Amish communities in the mid-to-late 1900s when churches began crafting and selling the creamy confections to both boost attendance and revenue.

From there, the tradition grew in popularity — to neighboring places of worship and regional nonprofits. Today, the eggs can be found across religious denominations and beyond state lines.

New flavors have developed over time from just peanut butter to cookies & cream, caramel, maple nut, coconut and more.

Chocolate companies have also taken to producing their own versions, like Sarris Candies in Canonsburg, Pennsylvania who makes my personal favorite: the Peanut Butter Meltaway Egg.

The tradition spans the Appalachian region and thrives in smaller communities. It’s lovingly regarded as a favorite pastime around Easter for many and is the highlight of the season for others.

Local food traditions, like church ladies making peanut butter eggs, are crucial to the region because they showcase the region's cultural heritage, fostering a strong sense of identity and community. These traditions bring people together through shared experiences of cooking, eating, and celebrating.

Here's my latest column for the Charleston Gazette-Mail.

March has me thinking green.

Capitol Market just held its Green Chili Shootout this past weekend. St. Patrick’s Day is tomorrow. And, green shoots are popping up from the ground in the form of daffodils and tulips as we speak.

Then, there are the edible greens this time of year - like creasy greens.

Creasy greens are a cold-hearty edible plant that is one of the first signs of spring. Growing wild throughout Appalachia, creasy greens - or Barbarea verna - are also known as upland cress and are kin to watercress.

While watercress is found at the edges of streams, creasy greens are found growing in fields throughout the eastern United States. They are part of the Brassica family, which includes kale, broccoli and cabbage.

You may find the latter on supermarket shelves, but if you’re in search of creasy greens, your best shot is at farmers markets in mountain towns or even your own backyard.

The entire plant - from stems and flowers - is edible. The peppery green has a slight tangy flavor and is similar to mustard greens. They are often cooked down with bacon and onions and sometimes used in hearty stews and soups.

Creasy greens have been a staple in Appalachian cooking for generations, providing both flavor and nutrition to traditional meals.

Because the greens are usually foraged from the wild, the connection to land is strengthened in Appalachian food. Creating meals and providing nourishment with fruits from the mountains is critical to Appalachian food culture.

The significance of creasy greens extends beyond their availability as a wild edible. They embody the resilience and resourcefulness of the Appalachian people, who have long relied on the land to sustain themselves. In a landscape characterized by rugged terrain and economic challenges, creasy greens offer a source of sustenance - both for the body and the soul.

Here's my latest column for the Charleston Gazette-Mail: If you’re a candy connoisseur like myself, you may be familiar with the following tasty combination candy bars:

- Chocolate, cookie and caramel (Twix)
- Chocolate and nougat (3 Musketeers)
- Chocolate, nougat and caramel (Milky Way)
- Chocolate, nougat, caramel and nuts (Snickers)
- Chocolate and peanut butter (Reese’s)
- Chocolate and crispy peanut butter (Butterfinger)

If you’re from the Pittsburgh area, though, that last one may have conjured up images of a different candy bar: the Clark Bar.

The Clark Bar consists of a crispy peanut butter core and is coated in milk chocolate. It was introduced in 1917 by the D.L. Clark Co. and manufactured in Pittsburgh.

“The Clark Bar ... was the first nationally marketed combination candy bar and its success induced numerous others to produce comparable products,” according to the “Encyclopedia of Junk Food and Fast Food” by Andrew Smith.

Six years after the debut of the Clark Bar, the Butterfinger burst onto the scene from Curtiss Candy Company. And 13 years after that, Luden’s created the 5th Avenue bar.

But it all started in 1886, when David L. Clark, an Irish immigrant, first began selling candies out of a horse-drawn wagon in Pittsburgh’s North Side, according to “Historic Pittsburgh” from the University of Pittsburgh’s Library System.

What started as a wagon-based business grew to a large factory, and by 1920, the company was producing nearly 150 different kinds of candy. The Clark Company quickly became known for its innovations in candy — including introducing mint, peanut butter and coconut to chocolate candies.

It was the Clark Bar that skyrocketed to fame and continues to be produced today, followed by the Zagnut Bar, which contains coconut.

The original, family owned business manufactured the candy until 1955, when it went through a series of corporate owners via sales and bankruptcies. In 1999, the well-known Massachusetts-based “New England Confectionery Company” (Necco) purchased the company. But, following Necco’s 2018 bankruptcy, Clark Bar production moved to Altoona-based Boyer Candy Company in western Pennsylvania.

With those changes came slight tweaks to the recipe. Boyer Candy Company, known for the Mallo Cup, began producing “Clark Cups” — taking the Clark Bar flavor and forming it into cups like its other products.

Nowadays, it’s difficult to find the original Clark Bar. But, it is still in production, according to the website.

“The iconic Clark Bar has been a Pittsburgh tradition since 1917. One bite will answer life’s three big questions: YES, we still make Clark Bars. YES, they are amazing. YES, they sell out often,” reads the website.

Now, when I see a Clark Bar, I gain a bit more pride for our region. Pittsburgh, affectionately referred to as the “Paris of Appalachia,” shares much of the same industrial history of West Virginia. And as a Yankee West Virginian who grew up north of the Mason-Dixon line, Pittsburgh is like a second home to me.

A home made of chocolate and peanut butter.

Here is my latest column for the newspaper:

Cornbread is controversial.

Savory? Sweet? White cornmeal or yellow? Finely ground or coarse? Baked or fried?

It’s treacherous territory to wade into. Culinary landmines pave the path of conversation, which is why I have avoided the topic. Until now.

The truth is, I don’t have an allegiance to a particular type of cornbread. I didn’t grow up eating it — aside from school lunches when it was paired with chili — so I don’t have those deep-rooted memories or moments associated with it.

But many do. Whether it was served with every family dinner or grandma passed down her recipe, cornbread elicits feelings in people.

Like whether you prefer stick or slice pepperoni in pepperoni rolls. Or whether ketchup belongs on a hot dog. Or whether pineapple is acceptable on pizza.

People have opinions. Strong ones.

Opinions often fall along the geographical boundaries of North vs. South — and Appalachia straddles both.

Corn pone: More than an insult

First, though, there were indigenous communities growing corn before colonists adopted the practice. Then, everyone was making corn pone, which is made of cornmeal, water and salt, plus lard or drippings. Many in Appalachia still make a version of this recipe and refer to cornbread in a pan as a “pone” of cornbread.

Then in the early 20th century, industrial milling was introduced in the South. It changed cornmeal because the corn was harvested before it was ripe in an effort to increase the quantity, improve the shelf life and decrease the cost. But, that led to a loss of flavor and sweetness in cornmeal.

So, the North became known for its sweet cornbread, while the South for its savory cornbread.

But, that divide runs even deeper. Poor cooks in the South — especially Black cooks — may have compensated for the cornmeal change by adding sugar and flour to their cornbread, creating a sweet cornbread recipe that was subsequently passed down through generations, according to Kathleen Purvis’ award-winning article “Why does sugar in cornbread divide races in the South?” in The Charlotte Observer.

The cornbread lines of demarcation are not straight and contain myriad branches. That’s why the tired refrain along the lines of “if cornbread was meant to have sugar, it would be cake,” begs the larger question of who gets to decide what is and what is not considered “Southern” food – or even Appalachian food, for that matter.

Appalachia’s version

In Appalachia, the one cornbread constant is that it is most often prepared in a cast iron skillet. Recipes have likely been passed down through oral traditions and may also go by “johnny cakes” or “hoe cakes,” which is essentially a cornbread pancake.

Often, family recipes call for very few ingredients — reflective of the mountain tradition of making use of humble ingredients that are available. But, you’ll find some cornbread recipes with white cornmeal and others with yellow. You’ll find some with sugar and some without. Some may incorporate local maple syrup or honey. Others may rely on buttermilk.

Like many Appalachian dishes, cornbread has often been made as a means of necessity. It is cheap and filling and pairs well with soup beans, chow chow or milk to create a delicious meal. Plus, it can come together pretty quickly.

Cornbread diversity is welcome here in Appalachia. Make it how your family has made it for years, or mix it up and try something new. Now for the next debate - beans or no beans in chili?

Here is my latest column for the Charleston Gazette-Mail:

Christmas is magical for many reasons - the lights, the gifts, the memories, and, of course, the sweets.

In Appalachia, though, that magic is literal for some who believe that any sweets baked on Christmas Day have special powers to prevent and heal illnesses.

“[Many believe that] any loaves of bread and cakes made on Christmas Day have healing abilities. Many would preserve these baked goods so they could be used to cure illnesses throughout the year,” according to the website Got Mountain Life.

Atlas Obscura corroborates this claim, noting that colonists who settled in Appalachia from Scotland, England, Ireland and other areas brought with them Christian cultural practices that provided a source of hope during harsh living conditions and tough work:

“By the 19th century, an array of rituals and superstitions had come to be associated with Christmas, the majority of which were in the interest of good health and prosperity.

One was the belief that anything baked on Christmas Day carried the ability to heal and prevent illness. For this reason, some families would bake extra cakes and loaves of bread, and preserve them to be eaten throughout the coming months of the year.”

While the origins of this folk tale are unclear, spices like ginger and cloves do contain medicinal properties and were often used in cookies, cakes, pies, breads and other well-loved treats like apple stack cake.

One of the most common treats made on Christmas Day was fruitcake, which was often adapted to accommodate ingredients available at the time. Often, it was a dense mixture of dried fruits, nuts and whiskey or moonshine.

In true Appalachian fashion, sharing those treats with friends and neighbors is part of the tradition. If a dozen visitors — a reference to the 12 apostles — join for slices of cake or other treats, it is supposed to bring 12 months of good luck.

Food plays an important role in many Christmas traditions around the world, including in Appalachia. Whether or not these baked goods proved to heal folks physically may be up for debate, but there is no question that they helped create memories and strengthen bonds with loved ones - in the most delicious way.

Here's my latest column for the Charleston Gazette-Mail:

Dinner is served: a raw ribeye on a paper plate.

Hope you brought your own eating utensils. And tongs. And seasonings. And a plate.

If you’re from the Wheeling area, you know the drill of a steak fry. If you’re not, you may struggle to eat your dinner.

A steak fry is a common fundraiser in the Ohio Valley, where everyone from veterans groups and Lions Clubs to scholarship funds and high school sports teams host them to raise money for a cause.

Here’s how it works: The host provides the raw steaks, usually a small salad and a selection of homemade desserts. Plus a large, rip-roaring grill.

Once you receive your steak, you head to the grill to map out your game plan. Do you place your beef directly on the flames and char the outside? Do you find a spot to perfect the grill marks? Do you find a lower flame and cook it low and slow?

You bring everything to cook the steak to your preference, starting with a plate, tongs to flip your steak, cutlery, seasoning and steak sauce. Optional additions could include chips or pretzels to snack on, cheese or melon as sides, napkins, Tupperware to take home leftovers and a bag to carry all of this.

The name, steak fry, is a misnomer of sorts. You’re not cooking the steak in hot oil or fat, but rather the steaks are grilled. And the event is not to be confused with thick-cut French fries known as “steak fries” often served alongside steak or other hearty meals.

But there are pockets across the United States that, too, host steak frys. Iowa, for example, is known for its political campaign fundraiser steak fry in which presidential hopefuls have participated in for more than 40 years.

These pockets are few and far between, though. And often, go just a few miles in either direction, and the concept will be foreign to those communities.

That is in part what makes the steak fry special to me. It’s unique to the region and combines both food and philanthropy. There’s a connection to the community and people through traditions like this. Even to those who prefer their steak well-done.

Here's my latest column for the Charleston Gazette-Mail:

You may not know you’re a fan of La Peperonata, but there’s a good chance you’ve had it atop a pepperoni roll, over sausage or on a cheeseburger.

La Peperonata, or bell peppers in tomato sauce, often shows up on menus across the Northern Panhandle and North-Central West Virginia, where there are large Italian-American populations.

Fairmont: The Italian-style peppers in sauce can be added to pepperoni buns in Fairmont at Colasessano’s World Famous Pizza & Pepperoni Buns. Wheeling: At Mikla’s Meat Market in Wheeling, you can order a hot sausage sandwich served with your choice of cheese and topped with hot or sweet peppers in sauce.

Clarksburg: And at Chunki’s Pizza and Subs in Clarksburg, you can enjoy a “Giovanni” sandwich, which includes a beef steak patty on Italian grilled bread served with American cheese and hot or sweet peppers.

Many of those peppers served on classic dishes come from one particular brand: Oliverio Italian Style Peppers. These jarred peppers in sauce were created in West Virginia and have become the go-to shortcut for dishes relying on the flavors of tomato and bell pepper.

“In the 1930's, in the back of the family grocery store located in Clarksburg, WV, Antoinette Oliverio perfected her recipe for peppers in Italian sauce. The peppers were so popular, her son Frank came up with the idea of offering this true authentic Italian food to others. In 1972, he took her treasured recipes and began canning peppers under the name Oliverio Italian Style Peppers,” the website reads.

“This may be how the tradition started, but today Oliverio's still makes all their products with fresh produce and a special blend of herbs and spices, all simmered with perfection in mind. Only the best was served in the Oliverio home, and we strive to make a product worthy to be served in homes across the country. Today, three generations of the Oliverio family have combined their love of good food with their recipe for success, to make Oliverio products superior in every way.”

Oliverio Peppers is used as a type of recipe starter that simplifies meal preparation. Oliverio also offers a number of other products in its line:

Sweet Peppers in Sauce Olvero
Medium Hot Peppers in Sauce Olvero
Hot Peppers in Sauce Olvero
Red Hot Peppers in Sauce Olvero
Thick Pizza Sauce
Thick, Italian Style Spaghetti Sauce
Sweet Peppers & Onions Spaghetti Sauce
Mild Pepper Rings in Vinegar Olvero
Hot Pepper Rings in Vinegar Olvero
Hot Pepper Chunks in Vinegar Olvero
Mild Pepper Chunks in Vinegar Olvero
Sliced Jalapeno Peppers in Vinegar
Whole Hot Banana Peppers in Vinegar Olvero
Whole Mild Banana Peppers in Vinegar Olvero
Mild Giardiniera in Vinegar Olvero
Hot Giardiniera in Vinegar Olvero
Hot Cauliflower in Vinegar Olvero
Mild Cauliflower in Vinegar Olvero
Hot Pepperoncini in Vinegar Olvero
Vodka Sauce
Fra Diavolo Vodka Sauce


What I love about Oliverio Peppers is the mass adoption at Italian-American restaurants and shops and wide community support of a delicious product that speaks to the region’s heritage. That, and it’s delicious, of course.