I stopped at a roadside stand in Georgia this week, and picked up some of the sweetest peaches, ever. The vidalia onions were enormous and irresistible, so those went into my market bag, too. I’ve been eating the peaches all week, but the onions were waiting for today…
Wednesday means theWaynesville Farmer’s Marketis open! So, Wednesday afternoon found me making a quick stop at the King Harvest Farm stand for tomatoes (eaten immediately) and yellow beans (asking Terry King about the difference, she said, “They’re yellow.”) and fingerling potatoes.
Today, the full-on market was in swing, so I buzzed down there and bought scallops (Hillbilly Shrimp Market) and rainbow chard (and I’m so sorry I didn’t get the name of Justin’s farm) among other things, and headed home with my haul.
First, the bacon. I rendered the grease from just a couple pieces of bacon, in a cast iron pan. I set aside a tablespoon of the drippings, and then deep-fried the potatoes and beans. (If you’ve never tried flash fried beans – I don’t care what color they are – do yourself a favor. It’s lovely.)
Then it was time to quickly saute the chard and onions in the remaining bacon grease.
I deglazed the pan with a bit of white wine and set it aside as a sauce for the scallops. Then it was time for these babies: I added a fat pat of butter and the reserved bacon grease to the center of the pan and let them do their thing.
Meanwhile, my dish is ready! On a bed of sauteed chard and onions, topped with lightly salted fingerlings and flash fried yellow beans, I crumbled a slice of bacon on the top for good measure.
Then it was time to add the scallops and drizzle with that phenomenal sauce…
And voila’! So fresh, local produce, and I know there’s one last peach in the kitchen for dessert, later. I’ve poured myself a glass of the pinot grigio I used to deglaze the pan (hey, that insures it will pair nicely, hmmm?) and it’s time to dig in.
I was keeping a friend posted all throughout this adventure, and was asked later if they came out well.
This particular Saturday morning at the market was special: I was meeting up with a bride. Ron & Cheryl were married here last November, and now (because I’m insanely lucky) they are also my part-time neighbors. Our schedules have kept us like ships passing in the night, and I’m always arriving in Maggie Valley just as Cheryl is leaving, and vice versa. Today was the magical day. “See you at 10!”
I have a friend who tells me when I’m dressing ‘too old’ and so I’ve been working on that. Still. Today, I fired off a picture to another buddy and said, “Hey, look! I’m dressing up like a twelve year old and going to the farmer’s market.”
But wait, I have this really cool bag…
He pronounced me farmers-markety and therefore qualified to leave the house, and off I went.
The Waynesville Farmer’s Market is awesome. It’s certainly not the largest market I’ve ever been to (it might even be the smallest) but the faces are friendly, the farmers are sincerely interested in knowing what you would like to have, how you’re going to use their produce, and are passionate about what they do. Frankly, I think you’d have to be passionate about farming to do it – it’s not going to make them millionaires. The payoff has to be more than monetary, to make folks work that diligently and consistently. Lordy, I just have to sleep in, now and then. These folks really know their stuff.
I especially enjoy following Terry King on facebook – she and her hubby have King Harvest Farm – because she posts about what’s growing and what’s not, and what to expect at the market each week. It’s fun to follow along, and it’s awfully nice to know what to plan for on Wednesday afternoons and Saturday mornings. And I do like her twisty sense of humor. Her post earlier this week still has me laughing:
Open pollinated = Poodle.
Hybrid = Poodle + Labrador = Labradoodle
GMO = Poodle + Salamander = DNA manipulation
Bah hahahahaha I want to see the illustrations!! Terry, yer killin’ me! Shop here, folks, for nonGMO and nonSaladoodle (because seriously, who wants doodle in their salad) produce. King Harvest Farm at the Waynesville Historic Farmer’s Market on Wednesday afternoons 3:30-6:30 –right handy for those of us who find shopping on Saturday mornings a challenge– and the main market on Saturdays 8-noon. This is not to say the rest of the folks at the market are not stellar, this is just the one whose name I know. Plus I like their stuff. A lot.
So. Today. First the social stuff – CHERYL!!!! YAY!!!
Holy cow omigosh we are adorable, aren’t we? I have yet to master the whole selfie thing. So…. I stole this one from my bride (thank you, Cheryl). We stopped by King Harvest Farm (naturally) and then made our way down the row and behold! Another friend! I haven’t seen Monica in a year. She’s selling her free range eggs at the market, so there’s yet another good reason to head that way on a Saturday morning. And here’s our merry band…
But we had more merrymaking a.k.a. shopping to do. We found a delightful new vendor, the goat lady. Right out of Cold Mountain. (Ok not. She is unlikely to harm her goats, which she says are like a herd of 160 pound great danes.) Her business is Wholly Goats Soaps & Such -the name just tickles me- and you’ll find her at the Saturday market, as well. All her soaps are made with goat’s milk from her very own goats, and nonGMO oils (no doodle in your salad there either, folks) and I am gaga over the Amazon Lily & Rain fragrance. There was a good bit of discussion about just what’s in there (lemon, grass, pine) but if you hug me in the next few weeks, that’s the scent you’ll notice. Yummy.
We wandered about and enjoyed the booths and chatting with vendors. Ron was in his element, talking organic fertilizer (his business and his passion) with all these farmers.
And Cheryl and I were shopping away. I was very excited to find Three Graces Dairy represented! You can bet my Netflix binging tonight will include the lovely manchego style cheese from Three Graces, and a nice glass of Pinot Grigio which is presently chilling in my fridge.
The steamy hot weather had us checking out Waynesville Soda Jerks and I’m here to tell you, that blueberry basil soda is awesome. And the perfect thing for a summer day. I’ll be doing THAT again.
I also picked up some rainbow chard to go with the yellow beans and fingerling potatoes from King Harvest earlier this week.
Me: Hey, Terry, what’s the difference between these yellow beans and regular green beans?
Terry: They’re yellow. Haha, maybe it’s like British humor, and you really had to be there. Trust me. It was funny.
And some scallops. Because – yes yes yes I know, I’m in the mountains, but people, listen: the Waynesville Farmer’s Market is THE place around here to buy seafood! They’re bringing it in fresh from the coast. Seriously like outa the water fresh. And I got these fellas to take pity on me (now that I’m cooking for one) and just sell me three absolutely perfectly fresh and lovely scallops. More to come on that.
This fellow, from Betsy’s Farm, had an enormous bag of basil, just for me. I love that he has just the one head of garlic left. Betting that basket was full this morning!
All in all, a pretty good turnout at the market. I am so glad that I remembered my shopping bag this time. I’m generally awful about that, so today I had a real sense of accomplishment, with all my yummies in my bag, arms full, ready to return home. Looks like I’m not the only one. There were some shoppers out there!
Next up…. a post about that amazing meal. Y’all drive safe. 🙂
I have been remiss. With eleventy bazillion photos of the Creek House all over this website and also www.maggievalleycottage.com, I didn’t realize I skipped pictures of my hands-down favorite place to be – in the kitchen!
Now, this is not a dream house magazine spread designer gourmet kitchen. Far from it. It isn’t snazzy. But it makes you feel so *welcome*. It’s a cook-in-your-socks kind of kitchen. And after making breakfast in here for the past eighteen years (how in the world did that much time fly by?!) I confess that I never want to spend any time in another drywall ho-hum boring kitchen. I love my mismatched cabinets, hardwood floors, low ceiling beams covered in mugs. The hooks are horseshoe nails fashioned into cup hooks for me by a blacksmith, back when we had one of those in Maggie Valley.
There are treasures in every corner, and little odd places to tuck in another bit here, another bit there. I’ve filled it with things I love to use, and it’s an easy place to work.
So this week, when a very nice lady asked for kitchen pictures, I was stunned to find out that in my many tens of thousands of pictures on my computer, I couldn’t find any of the kitchen! That’s because… wait for it… guess what: when I’m in the kitchen, I’m COOKING, not taking pictures haha!
Without further ado, voila: The Kitchen, before and after…
Our Picnic Package always includes the basket – so that you can take it with you on your travels. We’ve just gotten in our newest edition of baskets: a backpack! These things are SO COOL! The body of the backpack is insulated, and when you unzip the outside section, voila: dishes and utensils.
We think the slip pocket is ideally suited for a trail map…
Take your picnic into the mountains to enjoy in the high country of Western North Carolina. We’ll provide you with directions to some wonderful spots for a picnic –choose from the Blue Ridge Parkway, the historic Cataloochee Valley, the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, or right here at Timberwolf Creek alongside the stream.
Enjoy freshly baked bread (sandwich filled to order) and fruit and cheese and veggies and olives and sweets and beverages and the list goes on… There’s usually a pie in there somewhere… Nothing like finding a whole entire pie in the bottom of your picnic basket 🙂 and of course all the implements you’ll need to enjoy that pie, and the rest of your picnic.
But wait, you’re not a hiker? No worries. The backpacks lend themselves to all sorts of outings. The insulated compartment keeps everything nice, so you can take this on your road trip and have lunch along the way (some of the highway rest areas have really beautiful picnic areas) instead of just hitting another fast food drive through window. Or tuck a book into the front pocket, pack snacks and head for the park. Do you bring your lunch to work? Take turns with a friend, and blow them away when you arrive with this one, filled with your favorite pasta salad and fresh cut fruit and bakery delights. And by all means, surprise your sweetheart with a walk in the mountains, a special bottle of wine, exquisite cheese and crunchy goodies. What a great way to propose…
Picnics at Timberwolf Creek are packed in a picnic basket/backpack for you to keep. Everything you need for a marvelous lunch in the fine country air.
And of course, you can always just use it as a backpack.
Never let it be said that we can’t use humor to end an argument.
I recently posted this on facebook, “Serious advice for the ladies: If you share an office area with your sweetheart, as I do, get a pretty little dish and sit it by your mousepad. Now, get an itty bitty squirt gun and keep it filled. When he pops off with something he *knows* he shouldn’t have said, well… It’s just so satisfying, and you don’t have to say a word. Special note to the fellas: only the women are allowed to be armed. Got it? Good.”
The result was interesting, if predictable: eleven women immediately ‘liked’ it. When I mentioned that I hadn’t seen any men doing the same, one man began a conversation that naturally ended with men having bigger-better squirt guns. I’d just like to point out that it didn’t happen that way at my house, because my husband is (a) remarkably tolerant, and (b) has a well-developed sense of humor and (b.1) self-preservation.
Squirt guns are actually in stock, here. So are bubbles, tiny race cars, magic tricks, and other dollar store toys. You’d think we have small children or young grandchildren nearby. We have neither. What we do have are lots of honeymooners and folks having romantic getaways, who want to take a picnic basket out into the mountains for an al fresco meal in the sunshine. The baskets are filled with sandwiches, chips, fruit, cheese, olives, drinks, and usually a pie. And toys. Always toys.
Typically, that is a pair of squirt guns. Now, I used to put just one in there. Filled, of course! In a Zip-lock bag. And then one day, it occurred to me that once the water was gone, game over! So, I started including two.
In a transcendental moment of BFO (Blinding Flash of the Obvious*) I realized how much more fun it would be to just fill onesquirt gun. The game then becomes one party squirting while the other rushes to figure out how to fill his (ok ok ‘his’ because you know the girl is smart enough to get the full one). Once he’s got his filled, she’s about empty, and the roles reverse. Bam! The game goes on until someone surrenders. Given that this is a romantic getaway, surrenders are likely accompanied by kisses. Now *that* is a great picnic.
Voila. True love, abetted by squirt guns. Who knew.
…
*BFO is a term I learned from Jeremy Robinson, former editor, innkeeper, and self-proclaimed curmudgeon
Today’s bride, Lisa, tells me that a couple of years ago she worried about what her sons thought of Scott. They were all in the kitchen and she said, “I don’t think I’m going to call him anymore.” She turned around and both boys had stopped what they were doing. After a moment, the elder said, “Either you call him, or we will.”
While cutting the wedding cake, she announced, “Awww my sons got me a husband for mother’s day!”
Here are my thoughts re last night’s Italian wine tasting at Frankie’s Italian Trattoria… I’ll start with this: when is the next one?? Because I had SUCH a good time and thoroughly enjoyed it – tasting new wines, presented by knowledgeable people, and good food, in a great space, with a friendly crowd… Definitely repeatable. The highlight of the wine list, for me, was the Ca’ Viola Barbera d’Alba. It stole my heart.
There were nine wines, in all. The evening began on a festive note, with a sparkling Bisol Jeio Cuvee Rose Brut – pink prosecco! It was lovely, crisp, not too sweet and with the flavor one hopes for from a merlot/pinot noir blend. It tasted like summer on the porch.
It was followed by a Greco white that did nothing for me – just not my favorite grape, and this one was no different.
Next, a new white (new to me) that startled me into a Wow! What a revelation – and I’m so sorry I didn’t snag a couple of bottles (and am fervently hoping that I find it on the wine list at Frankie’s.) What is this wonderful ‘new’ white? (Stop laughing. I told you it was new to me. I haven’t tasted ALL the wines, yet. But I’m working on it.) Apparently, I’m the last person on the list to drink this wine. When I researched it a bit, I encountered things like, “Italy’s first white wine to gain international repute,” and, “one of the top-ranking Italian whites today.” Well, I am blushing. And I’m also seriously disappointed that I’m so far into my dotage before tasting such a rich white wine. It’s crisp and flinty, with lots of mineral flavor and still manages to deliver lots of citrus fruit. Nicely done! The grape is Cortese, and the region is Gavi, in the Piedmont. This one is Broglia La Meirana. It’s not often (ok never) that I find a white wine I’d drink year-round. I’m a seasonal creature: I want red wine until it’s hot outside and then I want pink or white or sparkling. Chilled. Cocktails? Give me rum or bourbon until summer strikes, and then it’s all about the clear stuff. So. Back to the Piedmont.
Yes, yes, I’d love to be totally conversant with all the Italian wine regions, but I’m not. Oh wait, you aren’t either? Let’s take a peek at a map, then, shall we?
Wow. There are a LOT of regions! A few years ago, I’d have found that completely intimidating…. because I’d have felt responsible to know them all, master them all, and be able to tell you which is the best known wine from each region. Well, no more. Today, I know that honey, it ain’t happenin’. So, having let that go, it just means there’s a multitude of fine wines, just waiting for me to pick a spot on a map and check it out! It’s like *Christmas* out there!
So, today: the Piedmont. Interestingly enough, this region handed over not only this great white wine, but also some of the superb reds that I already know and love from Italy. I just call them the B’s. If I choose one off a wine list, I know that even the mediocre ones will be nice. Barbera, Barolo, Brunello. I’d thought they were Tuscan, but apparently, I’m quite a fan of the Piedmont wines.
Enter into the mix: a taste of Argiano Brunello, from Tuscany. Oh, I was remarkably unimpressed. Lovely on the nose, and the initial taste was no surprise, rich and ripe as promised – and loads of tannins, which I enjoy, and then a beautiful finish. But absolutely nothing in the middle. Like it was hollow. I moved on. (But not before having it pointed out that I’d just dissed a fifty dollar bottle. Oops!)
Back to the Piedmont. Again. The next was Produttori Nebbiolo Langhe. It didn’t start or finish as well as the Brunello, but it had all the middle I was missing! Rich, full, dense, lots of personality. And the more I sipped, the more I enjoyed it. Excellent with food- it didn’t challenge the flavors, but it didn’t disappear in your mouth, either.
Food? Did I mention food? Good heavens: Louis turned out a feast to go with the wines… bruschetta (where he gets flavorful fresh tomatoes in January is a mystery) and olives and cheeses and oh my oh my fresh mozarella drizzled with balsamic vinegar… but I digress. Ahem. Wine.
Because then…. drum roll… I tasted the perfect wine. The Ca’ Viola Barbera d’Alba Brichet 2010 is my wine. (Well, it is now, because I bought some and took it home with me.) It’s not expensive, under $20, and boy it delivers. It’s rich and creamy – if wine were made with heavy whipping cream, it would be in this one. It’s dense, like a port, heavy and tannic, but still balanced. How do they *do* that?! I was over the moon. This wine was downright chewy. Sure, it was fine with the food, but it didn’t need food to complete it. I just love this wine. Did I mention it was my favorite? I may have.
It was hard to yank myself back to the present, and not just keep drinking the Barbera all night, but I moved on to taste the Fossacolle Rosso. Sharing the grapes with Brunello, this was like “Brunello Light”. It was easy, very drinkable, and light, lots of fruit, and most decidedly not empty in the middle. It wasn’t chewy and dense like the Barbera, but rather like the thin viscosity and light body you’d expect in a Beaujolais Nouveau. This is summer’s red wine, when you want something nice on the porch.
In a similar vein, came the Colosi Nero d’Avola. I was really expecting a bigger wine from this Sicilian grape. It was quite nice, and I wouldn’t have been disappointed to be served this anywhere, but it was too light for me.
Finally, we tried the Colpetrone Sagrintino di Montefalco. Smack in the center, Umbria delivers a really nice wine. The balance of light body and peppery fruit made it the perfect wine to sip while finishing off that last bit of cheese from the tasting plate.
Now – in the middle of all this pouring and tasting and munching and chatting, the sommelier mentioned to me that she believed the Argiano Brunello had been unfairly judged, and needed to breathe a lot more than it had been allowed. So, here we are an hour later, and she poured me another taste. People! Night and day!! The middle of that wine had finally Arrived. It was a beautiful thing. It was also out of my price range, so I just went ahead and savored the taste. Beginning, middle, long lovely finish, it was all there.
But you know I went back for my Barbera. Ca’ Viola, thou art mine.
What a special afternoon! Ok, it’s like this… Every state in America requires that you obtain your marriage license from the state in which you are to be married. That same license has to be returned to that office, in order to be registered (Register of Deeds) and recorded (Vital Records), and only then can the wedding couple get a certified copy of their license. That certified copy allows them to update drivers license, insurance, benefits, Social Security, etc. We get lots of couples here from out of state – or out of the country – who’ve never even heard of Maggie Valley, never been in this part of North Carolina, or maybe even to the United States, but they loved the pictures (and apparently the zany innkeepers) of Timberwolf Creek, and they come here to us, to be married. After the wedding, they have to mail away to our local courthouse for their official copy of the license, and all that administrative stuff is just in limbo while they wait.
This time, it was a little different. Our very Irish couple (Americans) decided to come on Friday, apply for and get the license, and bring it to us here. We then had a handfasting ceremony, with witnesses, who signed the documents. Our couple then rushed back to the courthouse and registered their marriage! To celebrate the completion of all this running-about, they went on to have a couples massage at Mountain Spirit Wellness, followed by a leisurely dinner out at Frog’s Leap Public House.
The cords are burgundy, gold and green. The burgundy represents romance, partnership, and happiness. The gold is for unity, prosperity, and longevity. The green stands for peace, sincerity, and devotion. And in this case, the cords were all from the bridegroom’s graduations, as he has more than one advanced degree – perfect!
The wedding ceremony (traditional) will be Saturday, no further government intervention required. Voila.
A handfasting is an ancient Celtic custom, which allowed a couple to make a marital commitment to each other, for a year-and-a-day. This was important in places like the rural Scottish Highlands, because it could be many months before you’d see a priest. This way, a couple could be married, and then solemnize their ceremony within the church when the priest arrived later. They wouldn’t be living in sin, and they didn’t have to wait months to be married.
As the handfasting is on Friday and the wedding on Saturday, I’ve explained to the groom that he now is expected to produce a wonderful anniversary gift on *both* dates, for the rest of his life.
He’s ok with that.
And may they live Happily Ever After.
Could my job just be a LITTLE more fun? I think not.
