The Local Exchange Market is a new Milton monthly pop-up that features farmers, food producers, artisans, herbalists, bakers and makers. This year's markets are scheduled for May 28, June 25, July 30, August 27 and September 24. I would love to make all of them if I can! I was able to check out one of the events last year with the following vendors: Temp Tatts Henna, Bethlehem Pottery, Mrs. Mel's, Lyss & Rae Crochet, Kirk Collins Art, Halfway Market LLC, Mud River Pottery, WVU Research Corp, Dunlap Ridge Crafts, Country Flowers of Milton, The Local Exchange, Petals and Pots, MurMades Handmade Jewelry, Vibrant Mountain Lady, The Rock Scent Co., Cabell County Master Gardeners & Debi's Delites.

Norris Roots & Recipes Almost Heaven Naturals The Potager Amandus Family Farm Hunt's Farm Crago Country Farm - pepperoni roll Almost Heaven Lemonade The Honey Spot Front Porch Gifts Have you been?

LaPorte Cafe was a short-lived restaurant on the East End that replaced the former Tricky Fish space. The restaurant focused on an elevated “café comfort food” approach, with dishes like beer-braised short ribs, roasted carrot risotto, creative wraps, salads, hummus platters and house-made focaccia sandwiches. A friend ordered the carrot risotto: Slow-cooked arborio rice, savory parmesan and a velvety texture were balanced by the rich depth from roasted carrots. Caramelized pear butter & wheat crispies made it hard for me to pass up. But I went with the shrimp & grits: blackened shrimp, served with white cheddar grits, bourbon bacon marmalade and wheat crispies. I enjoyed the flavors here, even if the polenta gave off a bit of a gluey texture. It can be tough to get right. And I wish the wheat crispies actually added a crisp to the dish because I would have loved that flavor addition. Did you get a chance to check it out? Grade: B

Spencer is home to the Black Walnut Festival and a handful of wonderful local restaurants. One of the newest additions to that lineup is The Hungry Moose, located at 215 Church Street. The Hungry Moose features BBQ, including pulled pork, brisket, chicken leg quarters and sausage. Sides include baked beans, french fries, cole slaw, mac & cheese, red potato salad and "salt potatoes." I went for a chicken leg quarter with sides of mac & cheese, salt potatoes and house BBQ pulled pork. Plus I got one container of each of the BBQ sauces - which is a good variety. The chicken was fine -- cooked well enough, but not especially memorable or juicy enough to stand out. The mac & cheese leaned dry and felt like it needed a little more sauce or creaminess to bring it together. The salt potatoes were literally small potatoes, simple and straightforward, but not much going on beyond that. Grade: B

While driving through Ripley, I spotted this funky little camper off on the side road. CampGrounds Espresso offers espresso, tea and refreshers, plus some small snacks. I ordered a lemonade refresher with peach and cherry. These are flavors I absolutely love, the texture was on point, and it lived up to its "refreshing" name on a particularly warm day. Grade: A

Here's my latest column in the newspaper:

The word “Vidalia” finds its way onto tons of product labels — Vidalia onion dressing, Vidalia onion salsa, Vidalia onion chips, and, the original, Vidalia onion.

(Not to be confused with “Vandalia,” which is known as one of the potential names for the geographic area that eventually became West Virginia.)

But what does it mean?

The Vidalia onion traces back to the 1930s in Toombs County, Georgia, around the town of Vidalia. Farmers there began to notice that onions grown in the region were unusually sweet and mild compared to typical pungent onions.

The key was the soil and water. The region has low-sulfur, sandy soil, which limits the compounds that normally make onions “hot” or sharp. The result is a naturally sweet, crisp onion.

By the 1940s and 1950s, farmers began selling them more widely. Their popularity expanded drastically after the opening of the state farmers market in Vidalia, which helped distribute the onions throughout the Southeast.

The crop gained national attention in the 1970s and 1980s as grocery chains began marketing them as a premium seasonal item. The term “Vidalia onion” became marketing shorthand for “sweet onion,” where food companies were using the phrase on products without any connection to the town itself.

It began to function like a genericized brand name, in which a brand becomes so dominant or familiar that people use the trademark as the everyday word for the product.

Such is the case with Kleenex for tissues, Band-Aid for adhesive bandages, Xerox for photocopying, Velcro for fasteners and Google for “search online.”

“Vidalia onion” simply signified “sweet onion.”

That changed in the 1980s, when Vidalia onions were brought under a federal marketing order, which helped protect the origin with oversight from the U.S. Department of Agriculture.

“Vidalia onion” can now only be used for onions grown within that defined region and meeting USDA standards for production and handling.

It’s not the first time geography has been locked into a food name. In France, Champagne must come from the Champagne region, and Roquefort cheese can only be made in specific caves in southern France. In Italy, Parmigiano-Reggiano and Prosciutto di Parma are tied to specific provinces and traditional methods, and balsamic vinegar of Modena follows strict regional rules. In Greece, Kalamata olives are similarly tied to their place of origin.

In the United States, Idaho potatoes are protected through a state-based certification system, and Florida oranges remain tied to their growing region as a matter of agricultural branding and regulation.

Because these food names have a protected status and must adhere to certain requirements, their quality remains consistent and the local producers are able to maintain an economic advantage.

The name “Vidalia” has strong consumer recognition and immediately communicates flavor expectations.

That’s why we now see “Vidalia onion flavored” or “Vidalia onion inspired” for products that have a sweet onion flavor profile — even if they have no connection to the Georgia town.

It was a small Georgia town where farmers discovered that the land itself changed the flavor of an onion. Much like Appalachia, food is rooted in place and is shaped by weather, terrain and water. In both Vidalia and Appalachia, the soil has always been part of the recipe.