Gomming & Yowing

All about eating and talking and life in the South and anything else that strikes my fancy…

Archive for the tag “Asheville”

22 May 2012

French Broad Chocolates

Reblogged from Gomming & Yowing:

Chocolate lounges have been popular in other cities for a while, and truly, what's not to love about an all-chocolate "lounge" experience?

Asheville has its own take on lounging with chocolate: the French Broad Chocolate Lounge at 10 S. Lexington Avenue. (For locavores, it's near the S. Lexington intersection with Patton Ave.; just above the back door parking lot for Mast General Store, and across the street from the Drhumor Building's parking lot.) Even their sign, which proudly proclaims "artisan chocolates & desserts," looks good enough to eat!

Read more… 383 more words

French Broad Chocolate Lounge is having a Facebook competition for locals and non-locals, so I thought I'd reblog this piece from 2008! As my friend Robin Dance (http://pensieve.me) might say, FBCL is magically delicious!
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29 Feb 2012

Jarlsberg, Y’all!

‘Yep, I’m telling you this for the truth,’ is what we say in the South when we want to convince our listeners that whatever tall tale we’re telling is the truth and not just another short story about our cousin’s husband’s sister’s niece (you know–she was the one who went you-know-where with you-know-who).

I digress…but I’m telling you this for the truth. I have no cherished childhood memories of Jarlsberg cheese. Cheddar? Check. Pimiento cheese? Certainly. Cream cheese, jack cheese, cottage cheese, E-Z Cheese? Sure. Even goat, Gouda, and Epoisses, in later years—plus one infamous episode with Stinking Bishop, which still haunts my tastebuds whenever I smell road kill languishing in the summer sun—but no Jarlsberg.

But wait—I do have one sort-of Jarlsberg memory: in the movie version of The Devil Wears Prada, “Nate” (actor Adrien Grenier) offers “Andy” (actress Anne Hathaway) a grilled cheese sandwich after a grueling day in the office. She’s so aggravated with her day that she waves his masterpiece away, saying she’s not hungry, and Nate says, “there’s like $8 worth of Jarlsberg in there!”

That was my only frame of reference, until recently.

In November 2011, I had the wonderful opportunity to tag along on the Eat Write Retreat Field Trip that explored the food culture of Asheville, North Carolina. I work for one of the companies that sponsored the event, and sponsorship perks included a seat at the table for a weekend of eating and talking (otherwise known as gomming & yowing, in the South) and eating and drinking and eating and visiting farms and eating and learning about the city’s food culture and eating and—well, you get the idea.

 

 It’s Jarlsberg, y’all—a user-friendly cheese developed in Jarlsberg, Norway in the mid-1850s

Turns out, Jarlsberg USA was also a sponsor, and they sent a giant wheel of Jarlsberg to be divvied up among field trip participants. It was a small group, by design, so the wedges of cheese turned out to be something to write home about (or lug home, for those traveling by air). In fact, Asheville might have been renamed Jarlsville that weekend, in honor of the mighty cheese wheel that reclined in chilled comfort until it was time for the divvy-nation and dispersal.

Anyway, I thought the Jarlsberg was pretty darn good (PDG). Sort of Swiss-like with the holes and all, but not exactly.  And I had a distant memory of a recipe that might just make the most of my new cheese whiz: natte, a cheese-bread I used to make all the time when I was in high school and college, back when nobody told me I didn’t know how to bake bread, so I baked a lot of it.

Natte was my favorite recipe; you made a simple yeast dough into which you kneaded shredded cheese, shaped it into a braid (that’s what ‘natte’ means in French), and baked. The recipe called for gruyere, but that was fancier than my mom would add to her shopping list, so I made do with cheddar, which tasted PDG to me.

Fast forward 20 years, and I wondered what natte would be like with Jarlsberg. Any historical enmity between France and Norway that might preclude culinary civilities? I decided to risk it.

Got my bits and pieces ready to go!

My natte recipe is not original; it’s from the Betty Crocker’s International Cookbook* that my aunt gave my mom for Christmas circa 1980. Somehow, the idea of experiencing “international foods” (guided by that nice lady who smiled out at me from the baking aisle in the grocery store) seemed faintly exotic, with just a whiff of secret spices from faraway places with strange sounding names. I was hooked, and I set out to see the world, one recipe at a time.

Fast-forward 30+ years, and I’m just taking a crusty brown braided loaf of Jarlsberg natte out of the oven.**

  

My kitchen smells as good as it did the first time I tried the recipe, and now I realize I DO have a special Jarlsberg memory—it’s just taken it a little while to come full circle.

*Many thanks to Betty Crocker’s International Cookbook; published in 1980 by General Mills, Inc.; of Minneapolis, Minnesota.

**Full disclosure: Jarlsberg USA is sponsoring a contest for blog entries about favorite Jarlsberg memories (old & new). The prize is a paid admission to the upcoming Eat Write Retreat weekend in Washington, DC–and boy, howdy, would I like to win that!

 Click here for the complete recipe, with photos!

Posted in Baking and tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment
20 Nov 2011

Eat Write Retreat

Sometimes you have to retreat in order to advance. Counter-intuitive? Not necessarily–especially when the retreat is a well-organized time apart from the daily grind in order to focus on something of importance.

Last weekend, I had a chance to join Eat Write Retreat in their first EWR: Destination Learning series, which incorporated “skill-building and networking into a fascinating exploration of a unique, food-focused community.” The destination just happened to be Asheville, and the company for which I work just happened to be one of the event sponsors, so I got to hang out with some very interesting folks who make a living through writing and blogging about food.

Fantastic foodies Robyn Webb and Casey Benedict developed the program “as a way to strengthen connections in the food blogging community through a shared exploration of cooking, writing and photography. Robyn and Casey have worked tirelessly to create an intensive, hands-on learning weekend, full of opportunity, friendship and fun at a great value.” (That’s how the EWR website describes it, and I’d definitely agree!)

As as overview, we accomplished the following in our short Asheville weekend:

  1. Friday: wine tasting and dinner at Biltmore.
  2. Saturday: breakfast at Early Girl Eatery; tour of Hickory Nut Gap Farm (and their very cool farmhouse, with its long history!); a beer-tasting lunch at The Market Place Restaurant with special guest Oscar Wong of Highland Brewing Company; a chocolate-tasting and lesson in cacao production from French Broad Chocolates; a wine and local cheese tasting with Sante Wine Bar; and last–but far from least–dinner at Carmel’s with wines by Shelton Vineyards and desserts courtesy of True Confections.
  3. Sunday: a light breakfast at True Confections; a tour of Blue Ridge Food Ventures (including a meeting with a filmmaker who’s working with local farms); and finally, a tapas lunch at Cúrate.

I believe a truly good time was had by all, even if we were dragging a bit by the end of the weekend. Though some menus were small/tasting-style, it was a LOT of food (and drink!) to consume in less than 48 hours.

Next time, I’ll dig deeper–with my fork–into the specifics of each element of the retreat. Be sure to read when you’re hungry!

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19 Nov 2011

Feral Friday: Feathery

(I wanted to post this on Friday, but my technology had other ideas. Still, it’s the thought that counts, right?)

This free-range, organic turkey feather, caught in the grass at Hickory Nut Gap Farm, caused images of Forrest Gump and Thanksgiving to dance through my head.

So feathery and insubstantial, and yet so perfectly designed for its purpose that neither concrete nor steel could render it any more effective.

Kinda gives me quills…er, chills, that is, up my spine.

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11 Sep 2011

September 11, 2011: 5 Things I Wish Were Different…

American flag flying in downtown Asheville (2011)

Everyone who was alive on September 11, 2001 was *somewhere* on that day, and most of us probably remember exactly where we were when we first saw or heard the news.

The sky was perfectly blue overhead here in Western North Carolina, with a few puffy clouds that were just there for show, not rain. I walked to my building from the parking lot down the street, admiring such a stunning backdrop for the few buildings in Asheville that are tall enough to stand out against the sky. I was really thinking of myself, though–we had our annual company dinner that night, and I was responsible for creating and assisting with all the presentations. I’d only been with the company a little over a month, and I was worrying about everything going smoothly. I was at my desk by 8:30 a.m., ready to begin going over all the details for the millionth time.

How quickly my personal worries changed, swept up into a national tide of disbelief, anger, fear, and panic that was far greater than I could ever have imagined as I walked to work. And how quickly the nation changed, too, into a ”before and after” mode that will always divide those of us who remember when things were different from those who have never known it any other way.

Our company event was canceled, of course; no one wanted to celebrate our accomplishments on such a day–we just wanted to go home and be with the people who meant the most to us. Nothing else seemed to matter as much as that.

Ten years later, and it’s another gorgeous September day–maybe even a bit warmer than 2001–with the same color of sky that I can only describe as ’early fall blue,’ and a few cottony white clouds for contrast.

At the National Cathedral in October 2000; the sky is a color known as "early fall"

Here’s a list of five things that I wish were different:

  1. I wish flying was as wonderful and easy as it used to be–no removing shoes, full body scans, luggage inspections, and the ability to pack whatever liquids you find convenient in your carry-on bag (like your own bottled water).
  2. I wish high-profile places were still icons rather than targets.
  3. I wish I didn’t feel compelled to watch the behavior of others–especially in crowds–for suspicious activity. (To be honest, I’ve always ‘kept an eye’ on people in crowds, but 9/11/01 has made me extra vigilant.)
  4. I wish the damage of the actual attacks could have ended with the attacks rather than affecting transportation, security, and–ultimately–the economy.
  5. I wish everyone could have received the same good news I did on that day–that the people I knew who worked in and around the World Trade Center were all safe at home.

I don’t know what you wish were different, but it’s hard not to long for that earlier time when we took our safety and our way of life for granted. I’ve always liked the song Try To Remember from the 1960 musical The Fantasticks, but the meaning of it has shifted a bit–from the remembrance of youthful love to the remembrance of the time before September 11, 2001. Here are those lyrics, and a link to a video of veteran singer/dancer/actor Jerry Orbach–a quintessential New Yorker–performing the song, as well (click here):

Try To Remember

Try to remember the kind of September
When life was slow and oh, so mellow.
Try to remember the kind of September
When grass was green and grain was yellow.
Try to remember the kind of September
When you were a tender and callow fellow.
Try to remember, and if you remember,
Then follow.

Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow,
Follow, follow, follow, follow.

Try to remember when life was so tender
That no one wept except the willow.
Try to remember when life was so tender
That dreams were kept beside your pillow.
Try to remember when life was so tender
That love was an ember about to billow.
Try to remember, and if you remember,
Then follow.

Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow,
Follow, follow, follow, follow.

Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow,
Follow, follow, follow, follow.

Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow,
Follow, follow, follow, follow.

Deep in December, it’s nice to remember,
Although you know the snow will follow.
Deep in December, it’s nice to remember,
Without a hurt the heart is hollow.
Deep in December, it’s nice to remember,
The fire of September that made us mellow.
Deep in December, our hearts should remember
And follow.

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29 Jul 2011

Feral Friday: Bele Chere

If madness has a name, it must be Bele Chere in downtown Asheville.

There's nothing like a flamingo hat to make you stand out in a crowd

I decided to avoid the rush to get into town by getting out of town–I took off Thursday and Friday in order to avoid the crowds.
Some locals probably still love Bele Chere, but I think most of us are happy to pursue other interests during the last weekend of July and leave the streets of Asheville to the visitors who turn out in droves to eat, drink, and be merry (and line up to use port-a-johns broiling in the sun, and experience monsoon conditions if an afternoon shower hits, and see sights and wonders that make you wonder where these folks live the other 362 days of the year, and…).

Been there, done that; don’t need another T-shirt.

Even The Jolly Green Giant, Mr. Peanut, and Tony the Tiger show up for Bele Chere!

Happy 3-day festival of scorching sunburns, hemp dog-collar booths, disturbing sights and smells, unhappy children, surly adults, public sloppiness of every kind, and the best people-watching of the year (I’ll miss that part of it, but not enough to bother with actually going to Bele Chere)!
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16 Jul 2011

Another Misty Moisty Morning In Asheville

Today’s weather put me in mind of a previous post I’d made, and when I looked it up, the original date in 2008 was almost exactly the same as today (about a week’s difference between them).

Conclusion: weather is cyclical, yet it’s easy to lose sight of that fact…especially in the mist.

Enjoy Another Misty Moisty Morning In Asheville, updated from July 2008 to July 2011!

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06 Jul 2011

A Requiem For ‘Blinky Pig,’ Too?

It’s another dark day for classic Asheville restaurants…First Three Brothers closed last week, and now Barbecue Inn has turned out the lights and left the building. Or, as one of my co-workers said when she heard the news:

“What??? Blinky Pig closed, too??? I need to curl up under my desk and rock now…”

Because both of these restaurants are so dear to my heart (see yesterday’s post lamenting Three Brothers, it really strikes home how much Asheville has changed in the last 40 years–sometimes for better, sometimes worse.

I first blogged my thoughts on the venerable ‘Blinky Pig’ (a colloquialism for Barbecue Inn [pictured below, courtesy of Asheville Citizen-Times online], because of its iconic pig sign with blinking eyes and lights) in 2008, and here’s a portion of that post:

Farewell, Barbecue Inn, along with your Brunswick stew straight from heaven and your iconic 'blinky pig' sign that welcomed all-comers for so many years...

There are right many barbecue restaurants in this area. 12 Bones continues to grab the majority of attention: their food is good (methinks their PR is even better!), the location groovy, and the parking/length of time waiting in line for lunch after parking a hike away on the river bank (River District location), is terrible–must mean they’re doing something right.

But that’s not my topic–I’m thinking Blinky Pig today. It’s real name is Barbecue Inn, and it’s been a fixture in West Asheville my whole life (it was there long before I was). There used to be a covered wagon out front—sort of a compact Conestoga that was too small for the whole family, but perfect for a starter-wagon—to clue you in that this was a barbecue joint. Best of all, the Barbecue Inn sign featured a funky red pig face that used to be outlined in blinking bulbs–hence the nickname “Blinky Pig”, which is how we identify it in my office. “What’s for lunch?” “Hmm…I was thinking maybe Blinky Pig. You?”

The interior is just as pointedly porcine as the nickname suggests; every surface is covered with a pig collectable of some variety. There are plastic pigs, pine pigs, porcelain pigs, piggy banks–you name it, if it’s pig-related, it’s in there somewhere. My office mates and I usually end up sitting under a pig-themed something  that looks like a wall-mounted paper towel holder…with a series of what might be pig-shaped napkin rings hanging from it. We’ve never asked the staff what it really is; we’re just happy to eat next to it.

Speaking of eating, we don’t usually order barbecue, even though it’s really good. It’s hard to get past the Brunswick stew, which is warm and comforting and served with slaw and hush puppies. The “Little Squeal” is another favorite: Blinky Pig pit-cooked barbecue on a hotdog bun (smaller than the standard whopping portion of chopped pork on a bun or plate; perfect for ladies who lunch).

I think I’ll save everything else I could write about Blinky Pig for another post–I haven’t even covered Piggy Petals and the teeny little golf pencils you use to mark your order form–but I’m too hungry to do it justice. Gotta’ get me some Blinky Pig (1341 Patton Avenue) soon!

Farewell, Barbecue Inn–and may the groovy-grub-getaway that will undoubtedly take your place remember that they will never fill your hooves/shoes in my memories!

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14 Jun 2011
2 Comments

How To Get Your Creative Groove Back

I’m a creative person, I suppose, but it’s easy to lose sight of that, at times. I have a job that allows for some creative thinking, which is great, although sometimes it reminds me of a crouching cat, licking the cream of imagination off the top of my brain and leaving me with skim milk–blue john–for my own use on my own time.*

Anyway, another interesting thing about creativity is that it also resembles a good, deep well: there are times when you draw off too much, but if you wait a little while, it wells up again and you can get on with things.

In 2005, I spent two weeks near Bordeaux, France, at a watercolor workshop with Asheville artist Ann Vasilik. I was not (and I’m still not!) very accomplished with watercolors, but it was a lovely trip, nonetheless, and a great pleasure to learn a few things from Ann, whose work I admire very much. We visited five or six small towns in the area and had an opportunity to paint local scenes along with Ann as well as explore the towns themselves. That experience, of course, deserves its own series of posts, which I hope to get to…someday.

A watercolor of rolled hay bales in the late afternoon sun...

When I got home, I thought I’d be inspired to keep painting, but I closed up my easel and stuck it under the bed to get it out of the way, and it didn’t see the light of day again for the next six years. Lawsy!

Last Saturday, I pulled out the easel on a whim, dusted it off, and set it up on  my front porch. It looked quite handsome there, if a bit lonely:

My easel, still in great shape, after six years in exile under my bed!

 So I added a sketch of Teddy that I’d done the night before (with a nearly-dried-up fabric paint pen, because I’m always lacking in the correct tool or supply that I’d like to have, so I use what’s close at hand) :

A hairy little sketch of my hairy little hound!

Next, I rooted through my house and my dubious-mostly-also-dried-up stock of paints for something that would work. I found a pint of blue acrylic enamel and a handful of acrylic craft paints that still had a little life in them and set to work. (My other favorite tools are a Bojangle’s dirty rice cup to hold water and a disposable pie tin for a palette. )  So armed, I began to “rough-in” the sketch of Teddy, working the background (very creative blue swirls, reminiscient of water rings on a tabletop) in behind his funky fur:

Teddy all "roughed-in" and looking a little roughed-up, too!

It was a little challenging to find a way to bring out Teddy’s features without just having them fade to black–he has a good bit of white in his coat, but I wanted to show his face without resorting to white outlines. Lucky for me, he has a very red tint to his eyebrows and moustache–especially when he’s in the sun–so I used a reddish-copper metallic craft paint to bring out the hint of ginger in his otherwise black coat:

Teddy: Portrait of a Bad Little Dog!

What fun to spend time capturing my little Tedward on canvas–and what a nice way to get my creative groove back…at least for one summer Saturday!

*Yes, I know the good ol’ Urban Dictionary, in all their vulgar glory, lists a secondary meaning for this term, but that’s hardly the definition I have in mind, so don’t bother to comment on it if you can help yourself!

Posted in Creativity and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
03 Jun 2011

Feral Friday: Something Wicked This Way Comes

For a *variety* of reasons, carnivals often have a seedy, sinister reputation. Maybe it’s because carnivals tend to attract an internal audience of those who find it difficult to fit in elsewhere? Or maybe because they’re rootless, wandering an event circuit but never establishing a home? Or because stories (Something Wicked This Way Comes, The Circus of Dr. Lao, and my own short story Side Show) and movies (Freaks, and portions of The Lost Boys, the very steamy Two Moon Junction and Big) showcase the seamy underbelly rather than the ordinary surface?

Whatever the reason, a carnival is a world unto itself–full of flashing lights and whirling wheels and shifting shapes that make it  difficult to define. Asheville photographer Susan Allen has captured the spirit of the carnival with this series of photographs taken during a recent local set-up.  Step right up and enjoy the show!

The whirl of wheels in the midst of the carnival set-up

Testing the rides

 

Whirling lights...

 

The shape of swings to come...

A wheel, awhirl

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