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.