Tamra Wilson

Eat Your Yard - A Magical Idea

Tamra Wilson — Tue, 30 Apr 2013 17:32:16 +0000

I bumped in to Nan Chase at the Blue Ridge Book Festival last May. The Asheville author was discussing her book, Eat Your Yard.

Riding the crest of the Eat Local movement, she has produced an attractive, helpful book to help backyard farmers. But instead of ripping out the sod to grow squash and beans, Nan takes an aesthetic approach—mix food-producing plants into the landscape.

A Story With Morels

Tamra Wilson — Wed, 03 Apr 2013 14:48:46 +0000

Few things excite me more than morel mushrooms. Hunting them is a rite of spring where I come from. My hometown, Shelbyville, Illinois, holds a mushroom festival Spores ‘n’ More, with a contest and auction. That’s serious mushrooming.

There’s something about that delicate nutty taste, the crispy-fried texture that makes my mouth water. Morels are the epitome of eating local, in season. If they were available every day, I wouldn't care so much.

Incredible Once-Edibles: What’s In Your Icebox?

Tamra Wilson — Wed, 06 Mar 2013 16:09:04 +0000

When I clean the refrigerator, I always find two things in the butter/cheese drawer - one is a tiny container of Nutella chocolate hazelnut spread. This particular sample expired July 5, 1996. It’s accompanied by a packet of Savora mustard from Argentina, vintage 2000.

Time-Tested Comfort Food

Tamra Wilson — Tue, 15 Jan 2013 20:19:01 +0000

Recently I shared a cookbook that my Dad gave to his mother at Christmas 1936. The old book is an endearing collection of hand-written recipes and clippings from magazines and newspapers.

Family Recipes A Treasured Pleasure

Tamra Wilson — Thu, 06 Dec 2012 10:00:00 +0000

One of my treasured possessions is a homemade cookbook my father gave his Mom during the Depression. Dad was sixteen and it was the last Christmas they would spend together for many years.

My grandmother kept and cherished the book, adding the clippings and notes as time passed. Among the pages are glimpses of family life as my grandparents raised six children on rented land in Alberta, Canada.

Oyster Stuffing, Friends A Must For Thanksgiving Swap

Tamra Wilson — Fri, 16 Nov 2012 05:00:00 +0000

Those who dread a lonesome holiday, listen up.

It’s possible to find a friend and trade hosting. Nov. 22 marks the 26th time we’ve swapped hosting.

It can work. Trust me on this.

If You Can't Beat It, Eat It

Tamra Wilson — Thu, 11 Oct 2012 16:46:27 +0000

News bulletin: kudzu is a food.

You can fry the leaves, chop it for casseroles and quiches, candy, jelly and more. Just as the folks at May’s Chapel United Methodist Church near Maiden. They’ve celebrated kudzu dishes for years. I dropped by there last month.

Of course most consider kudzu a scourge of the South, a once-welcomed Asian import to cure soil erosion, a monster whose tendrils choke trees, smother shrubs, and turn entire fields and hillsides into snake havens.

Yes, We Have Livermush

Tamra Wilson — Thu, 20 Sep 2012 04:00:00 +0000

The Livermush Belt. You in the Piedmont know what I’m talking about…that string of counties from Cleveland to Guildford, where you can order a livermush sandwich on any given day.

Poor man’s paté they call it, a meat substance so indigenous to North Carolina that Tar Heel ex-pats have been known to to smuggle it out in coolers to far reaches of the country.

I first encountered the stuff when I moved here in the 1970s. I’d grown up with cornmeal mush in the Cornbelt, but livermush? I eyed the khaki-gray block suspiciously in the grocery store cooler.

Lunchmeat, My Beach-Time Treat

Tamra Wilson — Wed, 22 Aug 2012 04:00:00 +0000

Nothing captures the spirit of Myrtle Beach like lunchmeat. Salami, bologna, pickle loaf and all the rest are bad for you, but whoever said a place that sells saltwater taffy is good for you?

The Grand Strand is all about having fun and instant gratification. So what if it’s fattening and unhealthy? What else is a beach trip for?

Yes, I Can… Vegetables

Tamra Wilson — Fri, 29 Jun 2012 04:00:00 +0000

Canning season has come early this year. Pee Paw’s garden is overproducing, Syl says. She picks and stems the beans; I own the canner. We share the lids, rings and the jars.

This all began last year when we decided to eat more local and healthy. I invested $99 in a pressure canner and attended a canning clinic at Home Extension.

“Follow the rules,” the agent advised. “Treat this like a science project,” which meant scalding the jars, sterilizing the lids, discarding rusty rings.