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.