The South

Recently at the Home for Wed Mothers, we received a heavy, fragrant package in the mail.  It carried with it the earthy odors of south Georgia, of sticky sunshine and cast irons skillets bubbling with the buttery goodness of  springtime Vidalia onions … like no other onions on Earth.

Do you think that my family sends more produce via the United States Postal Service than your average family?  Hmmm.

Anyway, Sissy and Funcle P were the kind senders of this box of Vidalias, and we will savor each and every last one of them … until, as Funcle P scrawled on the box, we cry because they’re gone.

Because he’s right, y’all – Vidalia onions are so sweet and good you’d never cry while chopping ’em up … only when they’re gone.  If you’ve never had any, gitchu to the sto’, immediately.  And if you’re a Southern expat like Mom and me, remind your Southern relatives about that flat rate shipping from USPS … handy for produce, and honey, too.  We thank y’all kindly.

If, for some odd reason, you should tire of slicing onions, squash, and butter into a cast iron skillet (I personally find this dish impossible to improve upon), here’s another suggestion for what you might do with a lovely box Vidalias, from Mama Stone:


1 1/2 cups mayonnaise

1 1/2 cups grated Swiss cheese

1 1/2 cups chopped Vidalia onions

Preheat oven to 350 . Mix all ingredients in an oven safe bowl and bake for 25-30 minutes. Serve with pita bread wedges or crackers.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.  Now that’s some South in yo mouth.

2011.  Glacier County Honey Co.  All Rights Reserved.


Where have I been?

At a baby shower given by my darlin’ Georgia Belles, tearing glittering paper off of swaddling blankets so plush and soft that I wonder how I’ll ever let It’ll drool on them.

Sliding a well honed knife through my Grandma Betty’s Italian Cream Cake, and letting the cream cheese icing melt on my tongue, leaving behind the salty pecans and creamy coconut for individual enjoyment.

And walking under the ancient shade of the Birdsville oaks.

Just as photographs can’t do the grandeur of my home mountains, Glacier National Park’s Rockies, justice, neither can I adequately capture the primeval sight of this double row of live oaks, swathed in gray-green Spanish moss, marking the way towards Birdsville, one of Georgia’s oldest and most celebrated Greek revival antebellum homes.  As it happens, the Big Farm, where Grandma Betty lives, is located just down the road from these oaks, and so they are an indelible part of my childhood memories, as I cheered in the back seat of the station wagon as Mom navigated that last right hand turn through the double oaks.

If you are respectful and reserved as you pass under their gnarled branches, you might hear the whispers of all these particular oaks have seen – the rise of the Old South, and of the plantation at Birdsville.  The fall of the Old South, as Yankee soldiers paused to rest under the oaks’ shade, en route to burn Birdsville, which they ended up sparing due to a grieving mother who would not leave, despite their threats.

Outsiders hear these stories about the South, woven with Spanish moss and the branches of live oaks.  Some, like the story of Birdsville, are actually true.

2011.  Glacier County Honey Co.  All Rights Reserved.