White stuff blankets parts of North Carolina

White wonderland near Warrenton, NC

While I realize the snowstorms this week in the Midwest and the Northeast can be dangerous and are not necessarily desired by most people, Wessel and I have snow envy! We love watching it fall and playing in it. (We’ll ignore the driving and shoveling for now.)

So when we came upon this awesome white wonderland outside of Warrenton, North Carolina, a couple days ago, we took a cotton to it. OK, it’s not snow, and it’s grown with chemicals, but ain’t it purdy? North Carolina is fifth in cotton production in the country, and we’re proud of it. (Except for those pesky chemicals.)

This is how your T-shirt starts

If you’ve never seen a cotton field just before fall harvest (most are harvested by now; not sure why this one isn’t), put it on your list. I’ll tell you where to go. It’s quite a sight.

Have cotton envy yet?

Walk this way to way fresh seafood

Diane is ready for Walking Fish pickup

Can you believe that even in coastal towns, most of the “fresh seafood” on restaurant menus isn’t even from this country, much less the county? Some 80 percent of seafood served in America is imported and much of it is harvested under conditions that would not meet U.S. environmental standards. Diners are unaware either because they assume it’s local or they’re told it is when it’s not. Or they just don’t care.

Carteret clams are being steamed

The shrimp we sauteed the other night were recently caught in Carteret County, NC, about 200 miles east of our home in Durham. So were the clams we steamed two weeks earlier. And the flounder and jumping mullet we grilled? Yep, all from Carteret. Towns there include Atlantic Beach, Beaufort, and Morehead City.

Locavore fishavores congregate on Thursdays at Duke Gardens pickup point

We got all that seafood through Walking Fish, a subscription seafood service organized by Josh Stoll and other students at the Nicholas School of the Environment at Duke University. They’ve joined with Carteret fishermen/women to launch our region’s first community-supported fishery to sell locally caught seafood to the public. The name is a takeoff of the more common CSA, or Community Supported Agriculture. The CSF is coordinated through Bill Rice, owner of Fishtowne Seafood, a small Beaufort-based processing facility.

Chuck of Fishtowne fills up a bag with fish and ice. Earlier he gave a filleting demo.

The composition of each week’s portion varies according to season and weather. We were told ahead of time that we’d likely get clams, shrimp, triggerfish, spot, mullet, flounder, and black drum. I really appreciated that we had choices — weekly vs. biweekly, half-share vs. full share, filleted vs. do-it-yourself. We chose biweekly, half-share and filleted, for $79. Each share is enough for two people with a little leftover, and we’re getting six weeks of fish, so about $13 a meal-for-two for really fresh seafood. And we’re helping our fishing friends in Carteret.

Duke students said they weren’t sure how the program would go over, but I could have told them it would sell out, which it did (at 400 members!). We’re situated in locavore/foodie/eco central. You should see the Prius drivers pull up at the pickup point at Duke Gardens with their farmers’ market and Obama bumper stickers.

While we’re on the topic, there’s also a wonderful program called Carteret Catch. When you see that label in a Carteret restaurant or seafood store window it signifies that the seafood labeled as local comes directly from the county. Those fish don’t have to walk far.

Getting fried with Soupy Sales

Soupy Sales, his face about to be splattered with yet another pie

Way back in the olden days, from the 1950s to the ‘80s, Soupy Sales was a famous man: for his comedy, his rubbery face and his penchant for taking pies in said face. He had his own TV shows, a couple of them, played comedy clubs, and was a regular on game shows. He died Oct. 22, at age 83.

My friend Chuck Adams, executive editor of Algonquin Books, shares with us his wonderful Soupy Sales story, from when Chuck was a contestant on “The $10,000 Pyramid” in the late ‘70s, hosted by Dick Clark. Here’s his story:

Chuck Adams, looking as glamorous as he did on television

“I was out of work and an actor friend had done the show ‘$10,000 Pyramid’ and recommended me, although he hadn’t won any money — just a consolation prize (yea! a year’s supply of Stouffer’s frozen meatloaf dinners!). They taped a week’s worth of shows in one (very long) day, and finally on ‘Friday’ they sent me up. The two celebrity guests were Lanie Kazan (a sweet, ditzy woman) and Soupy Sales (a smart, funny man), and I, luckily, got Soupy.

“We zoomed through the initial round and I got to the big board. Soupy was giving the clues; I was receiving. We had one minute to solve six word- association puzzles. Soupy’s hands were in straps so he would have to give his clues with words only (no charades). We whizzed through the first five in 30 seconds, but then we got to the last one.

“Soupy said, “Eggs, bacon, chicken…” and then he looked at me. I said, “Things you eat for breakfast?” Soupy shook his head and repeated, “Eggs, bacon, chicken…” And then he probably added something like “sausage…” I don’t remember what I said after that, or what he said after that, but I do know that with about three seconds left, my brain finally clicked in and I managed to make an association with all the things he’d be shouting at me: “Things that are fried?” I finally said, and then people were screaming and Soupy and I were jumping up and down and hugging each other, and Dick Clark was shaking my hand.

Soupy Sales in 2008 (photo Wikipedia)

“It was a truly memorable moment. And so naturally that 15-minute segment of my long-ago life came to mind this past week when the funny, smart Soupy Sales died. I needed those $10,000 very badly in 1978, and he helped me survive the year. I will never forget him. He was a saint… or at worst a very clever performer.”

Thanks for that great TV tale, Chuck!

And a North Carolina note:  Soupy was born “Milton Supman,” to the only Jewish family in Franklinton, NC (about 30 miles east of us), which certainly could have triggered a need for comic relief.

Fried pickles, meet chocolate-covered bacon

Diane helps out with deep-fried pickles

Like the teetotaler who gets drunk at her cousin’s wedding, I, a fairly healthy eater who really dislikes the taste of processed foods, went overboard at the North Carolina State Fair. I usually don’t. But this time I did.

I’d been working so hard for weeks and needed a big release. What could be bigger than our state’s huge annual fair, attended by some 878,000 people over 10 days.

Mostly we go for the agricultural exhibits (like you read Playboy for the fiction). But really, I love the giant pumpkins and watermelons and the well-kept cows and goats and chickens, and I so want one of those adorable miniature donkeys.

How can one forget this delicacy?

As we hit the first midway, I mentioned to Wessel how much I enjoyed our deep-fried pickles the last time.

“I don’t remember that,” he said. “I don’t think I had any.“

“Of course you did; how could you forget?” I said. “Look, there they are.” I pointed to a stand.

He had to “try” some. He couldn’t eat all six on his own, so I was enlisted to help.

And we were off.

Next on the list: the fair’s latest offering. No, not the deep-fried butter. The chocolate-covered bacon. (It’s actually a gourmet treat, though typically made with much finer meat and cocoa. My favorite truffle maker, Deans Sweets in Portland, Maine, keeps threatening to add them to his repertoire. Do it, Dean!)

Are the innards of bacon blasphemy or blessing for the chocolate connoisseur?

I was starting to get panicked because I couldn’t find a chocolate bacon stand. Just as Wessel was trying to talk me down, there it was! And for only $3.50. The salty and sweet combined for a lip-smacking taste treat — on a stick, of course. Bacon and chocolate, meet pickle and grease.

Then came a shared cup of chilled apple cider as we watched a bluegrass band, which happened to be set up dangerously close to the kettle corn stand. At least I ordered a small.

When Wessel asked if I wanted my usual ham biscuit at one of the church fund-raising restaurants, I had enough sense to say no.

The Ferris wheel is our big thrill

We took an eating interlude, midway- hopping until we reached “our” Ferris wheel, one of the three at the fair. It looks down on the always hoppin’ Himalaya, with fierce tunes blaring, and the crazy Pharaoh’s Fury, a Cleopatra-style open seated gondola sort of thing that swings back and forth at increasingly angular pitches. I would definitely not be able to hold down aforementioned delicacies. The Ferris wheel, on the other hand, is totally tame, some would say lame. I love it.

Wessel digs into his long-awaited Italian sausage sandwich

On the way out, Wessel finally ordered his long-awaited Italian sausage sandwich, with fries. At a certain point, he needed my assistance. Being the ever-supportive spouse, I obliged. Italian sausage and fries, meet kettle corn and chocolate bacon and ….

Need I mention that we skipped dinner?

She makes magical menorahs (and more)

Trademark handcrafted ceramic menorah by North Carolina artist Sue Treuman

I recently wrote the piece below, about the fabulous ceramic sculptor Sue Treuman, for my regular artisan column in the News & Observer. Her work is sold nationwide and  menorah prices range from around $95 to $250. Google her name and you’ll find stores that sell it. It’s amazing!  Here’s the article:

The aftermath of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks prompted ceramic sculptor and musician Sue Treuman and her husband, Bill, to look for a more low-key place to live. She grew up in New York, and had spent most of her adult life not far away, but moved to Chapel Hill, North Carolina, in 2007.

Despite the emotional and economic trauma of 9/11, Treuman said it was a dream a few months earlier that affected her most.

“It was the end of the world, and everyone was running around trying to get what they could get, just running around like crazy,” she recalled. “I walked through the crowd and decided I didn’t want to do that. I walk through the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and there are poets and singers singing their songs. I see everyone expressing themselves. It’s all about creating one’s life and doing what one needs to do. It changed my life.”

Some of her menorahs focus on one figure

While she had been making art for decades, Treuman, 62, became more focused and more appreciative of her creative community. When she and Bill decided to move, that was key.

“Family, community, connections, generations; that’s what’s important to me,” she said. They spent two years in Northampton, Mass., but Bill wanted to move south.

Then she saw Weaver Street Market, the cooperative grocery store and gathering spot in Carrboro, near the boundary of Chapel Hill. “I said, ‘OK, I can live here.’ It speaks of community, and that’s what my work is about.”

Sue's work often depicts family, community, and connections

Indeed, community and family are themes that run through Treuman’s work, especially in the pieces for which she is national recognized: menorahs, the candelabrums used during the Jewish holiday of Hanukkah. Each is a masterpiece of ceramic sculpture, depicting one to nine figures in clay often in motion, perhaps dancing, playing music or praying.

She got the idea about 30 years ago, and over the years, they have become more sculptural, textured and detailed, she said.

“I celebrate the culture of being Jewish, and Hanukkah is one of my favorite Jewish holidays, because you sing,” said Treuman, who composes music, plays the guitar and sings.

“It’s the story of the miracle of light, that the oil that was supposed to burn for one day burned for eight days.”

Menorahs are used during Hanukkah, which this year starts Dec. 12

In her 20s, while working out of a co-op art studio in the Bronx, Treuman’s pottery was for the most part functional. But as her work evolved, she moved more into sculptural pieces, especially the human form, and the menorahs were the perfect stage.

“These are functional, sculptural, and spiritual, synthesized in a ritual form,” she said. “There’s something about making an object of ritual use that people will touch and use. For me personally, I need my stuff to be touched.”

Sue shapes the stoneware clay with her hands and a potters' wheel

Treuman works on them year-round, in parts, storing limbs in different boxes. “My husband calls them the body snatchers,” she said with a laugh. She shapes the stoneware clay with her hands and a potters’ wheel, and each menorah has textures pressed into it, not carved.

“I do series, and though some might look the same, they’re all different. They’re fired twice, glazed, and then I enhance them. The faces have to be worked on to bring out detail, and I’ll use different lusters and acrylic colors.”

She sells the menorahs in galleries around the country, and they will be among the work on display at her home studio during Orange County Open Studios in the first two weekends of November.

A day with friends inspired 'Goddess pots,' Sue's most recent creation

More recently, the sculptural series Treuman has been concentrating on is her “goddess pots,” vessels decorated with a fantastical woman’s face or torso.

“They were conceived after spending a day egg-painting with a group of women,” she said. “For some reason, being with a group of women always gets my creative juices flowing. I woke up in the middle of the night and said, ‘My next project will be goddess pots,’ and I drew everything out.

Goddess pots celebrate womanhood

“I wanted it to be women vessels, women holding space, and it turned into open vessels that became women, and then a venue for making different faces, hair, textures. Some are very, very big. I do make some smaller ones, but I usually sell them to private collectors.”

Since moving to the area, Treuman has gathered together a new group of women.

“I literally found one woman weaving in her front garden. I’ve never been so bold,” she said. “We dance and sing and eat and laugh. We have fun. The group is dedicated to the spirit of being a woman and what wonderful things women can do and be.”

Big reward for little effort at Great Smokies

Buildings at Mountain Farm Museum

October is a peak season at Great Smoky Mountains National Park, the most heavily visited national park in the country, with more than 9 million visitors a year. Despite all those people milling about, it’s still amazingly easy to get away from them. Some, of course, don’t leave their cars, and others don’t venture down trails. With only a few hours to spare, we did both, and were majorly rewarded for a minor effort.

Great Smokies' 75th anniversary

We started our afternoon at the park at the Oconaluftee Visitor Center, two miles north of Cherokee. It being July Fourth weekend, the place was packed. After a tour of the fascinating outdoor Mountain Farm Museum, a collection of preserved historic log buildings gathered from throughout the Smoky Mountains, we were itching to take a walk, but didn’t want to drive for an hour to reach some of the more remote trailheads.

A ranger told us about the Kephart Prong Trail (a prong is a bend in the river), a four-mile roundtrip hike that crosses the Oconaluftee River six times. Perfect! Oddly, the trail isn’t marked from the road nor is it on the basic park maps, which probably contributed to the fact that we passed only a few other people during one of the park’s busiest weekends.

Tree pose for beginners on footbridge

The trailhead is only seven miles beyond the visitor center. Look to the right for a small parking area on the right, and a footbridge, the first river crossing. The other river crossings were not really bridges but logs, some more secure than others, but all with a railing, so not too much balance was required. That’s a good thing, because no matter how many times I do an erect “tree” pose during yoga, get me on a log over water and I’m like jelly.

Bright red bee balms are found along the Kephart Prong Trail

The wooded hike, mostly along the river, was just lovely, and I wish we could see it this month when the leaves start to change. The trail is an old road-bed, so the walk is quite easy, with only 800 feet of elevation gain, most of it on the way in. It’s an up-and-back, not a loop. Along the trail in the woods are a few remains of a former Civilian Conservation Corps camp, there from 1933-42. Turnaround is at a nice backcountry shelter. No one had set up there, so we stretched out on the platforms for a little contemplation of nature. Wessel was snoring in no time.

Water flows down a millrace to the mill

On the way out of the park we stopped at Mingus Mill, a 1886 grist mill that uses a water-powered turbine to power all of the machinery in the building. The mill is operated daily from mid-March through mid-November, with a miller demonstrating how corn is ground into cornmeal, which was for sale there. In a break from tradition, the corn was shipped in from the Midwest. I can think of only one word to appropriately express my disappointment. Shucks.

NC chefs tell all, with recipes

Chefs are like rock stars and athletes. They switch from place to place, working their way up the food-service pyramid. A writer pal of mine, Ann Prospero, has interviewed the best chefs in my area of North Carolina in her “Chefs of the Triangle: Their Lives, Recipes, and Restaurants.” We learn how they moved up, over, and around to become forces in food. We’re even treated to a few recipes from each.

Ann, by the way, is a wise author — for her book signings, she brings along chefs, and they bring along samples. The reading I went to, at Regulator Bookshop, featured Durham restaurateurs Jim Anile from Revolution, not yet a year old but buzz-worthy, and Shane Ingram, whose celebrated Four Square Restaurant turns an impressive 10 years old this month. It was great to hear them talk about their work and even better to sample their wares — fig gazpacho from Shane (the recipe is in the book) and, from Jim, butterbean hummus crustini with marinated octopus. Yum!

Durham author Ann Prospero

While I realize most of my readers live far from my home state, you should know that we have some mighty fine restaurants here in Durham and environs. In 2008, Bon Appetit magazine rightly named us “America’s Foodiest Small Town,” although they were talking about two towns, Durham and Chapel Hill, but whatever. We’ll take it.

Chefs Jim Anile, left, and Shane Ingram spoke and served food at the reading

As Ann points out, it was the late chef Bill Neal of Crook’s Corner who really got the dough rolling by mentoring and inspiring others, who in turn did the same thing for their colleagues in the kitchen. Crook’s is still going strong under chef and cookbook writer Bill Smith, a culinary force in his own right. Lucky us!

Merge Records: 20 years of cool

Laura Ballance and Mac McCaughan perform at Regulator Bookshop in Durham

Back when I had customized earplugs, was music editor at the Patriot Ledger, and saw bands almost nightly at the Middle East in Cambridge, Mass.,  I had three favorite record labels: Touch and Go, Matador, and Merge. Touch and Go is gone as of this year, but Matador and Merge live on, bless their indie hearts.

Over the years, the music scene became less important to me. Though I can’t keep up with much from afar, I do still like to watch. So how lucky am I that I moved to Mergeville six years ago, and could partake of some of its 20th anniversary merriment.

What a treat all indie music lovers in North Carolina are enjoying as our hometown heroes Merge Records celebrates its two decades (!) and the release of the book “Our Noise: The Story of Merge Records, The Indie Label That Got Big and Stayed Small.” If you or anyone you know cares about music, bands, touring, recording, this book is a wonderful behind-the-scenes look at that crazy life.

Laura reads a passage from "Our Noise"

Because the label is based in downtown Durham (after moving from nearby Chapel Hill), founders and principles Mac McCaughan and Laura Ballance have been gracing our area with fantastic readings/performances at local bookstores. Mac and Laura started as bandmates in Superchunk, and continued that while starting Merge in Laura’s bedroom. They’re both married (to others) and have children, so they don’t live the rock-and-roll life but are still very much involved in recording all sorts of indie bands.

Merge’s biggest names are Arcade Fire, Magnetic Fields, Neutral Milk Hotel, Spoon, and their own Superchunk, but they’ve hand their hands in so much great music in the past two decades. During the reading we attended, at our wonderful Regulator Bookshop, they performed a bit and read passages from the book. While they played a couple Superchunk songs, acoustically, Mac also graciously covered pieces from two Merge artists, Matt Suggs and Lambchop, and read book passages about both. All “book readings” should be this lively! Oh, yeah, and there was free beer, too. Good beer.

Laura and Mac sign books for fans

I should mention that “Our Noise” was written by John Cook, a reporter for Gawker, and published by our other local hero, Algonquin Books in Chapel Hill. The 290-page book includes narrative, interviews with Merge artists and Mac and Laura, and fun photos of musicians, shows, and Merge ephemera. It’s a great read for anyone caring about American rock music from the ground up and a record label that hasn’t sold itself, or its artists, out. Here’s to another two decades!

A heaping mound of history

A tiny Diane (on right) shows the scale of the 30-foot tall Nikwasi Mound

Wessel and I do not like repeats. After we’ve been somewhere once, we’re on to the next thing. It’s a curse; it’s a joy. But we simply had to go back through the far-western mountain town of Franklin, NC, two days after first visiting. We’d already zipped through to see historic Main Street, cute but not overly so. Wessel enjoyed the bagpiper playing outside the Scottish Tartans Museum, while I was more interested in the Artisans on Main craft shop.

Only later, while reading the Macon County News, did Wessel learn about the Indian mound in downtown Franklin. Say what? We saw no signs. So we had to return on our way home.

The secret is out in downtown Franklin, NC

I scoured Franklin’s online visitor information site. There is no mention of the town’s most fascinating site, not even under “Discover the Rich History of the Franklin area.” How could this be? A photo and map at panoramio.com led us to the location, though I’m sure we could have asked anyone in town.

So here’s the story. Franklin, population 4,000 or so, has — make that owns — one of the best preserved mounds in the Southeast. The Nikwasi Indian Mound is 30 feet tall and maybe half a block around. It’s about a quarter-mile from the heart of Main Street, surrounded by faded businesses, along with Indian Mound Realty. Judging from the clusters of Hispanic men milling around at 8:30 a.m., the area looks to be a hiring point for itinerant workers.

Downscale businesses surround the mound

According to an article by Jon Ostendorff in the Asheville Citizen-Times, researchers recently used a ground-penetrating radar machine to look inside and found that the mound, more than 1,000 years old, was the site of the council house in an ancient Cherokee town.

The city has considered turning it into a park (no running on the mound, please!), but lacks the funding. What they need is another fund-raiser of the likes that first purchased the mound. In 1946, a local attorney worked with area schoolchildren to collect $1,500 in pennies to purchase and preserve this city treasure.

A potent Intervention we could all use

Buddha was the main character on stage in Paperhand Puppet's 2006 show

For 15 years I lived in Boston, and for 15 years I ignored Bread & Puppet‘s  “cheap art and political theater in Vermont.” I was stupid and thought myself too cool to hang with the crunchies. I have found salvation from my sins here in North Carolina: Paperhand Puppet Intervention. (Plus, with age, I seem to have become a bit crunchie myself.)

When I first heard about Paperhand, my eyes glazed over. Puppets? Not my cup of chamomile.  But after enough People I Trust told me it was the coolest thing ever, I succumbed. My review: Coolest Thing Ever. I want to take everyone there, but since I can’t, I’ll just tell y’all about it. And, please, if you ever visit our neck of the woods, try to catch a show by one of the most creative artistic groups you’ll find anywhere in the world. To whet your appetite, check out their videos and photos online. If you need a ride, let me know.

Mother Earth filled the stage in 2008

First, the “puppets.” They’re huge, breathtaking, soulful, gorgeous. Also onstage at various times: giant masks, stilt dancing, rod puppets, shadow puppets and more. And a wonderful live band accompanies them. The puppets live at Paperhand’s home (secured this year!) in Saxapahaw, a former mill town being reborn by creative types.

A tale about a fishing family in a rapidly transforming world debuted in 2007

Second, the stories. They often start with an epic myth (this time the Babylonian creation epic) played out violently and then transforming into scenes of  peace, love, social justice, etc.  Yes, the audience is hit over the head with this stuff, but it’s OK because it’s all true and real and wonderful and you just want to have a giant group hug by the end.

Stilt dancers in the 2008 show

Third, the people. Paperhand was formed in 1998 by co-creators Jan Burger and Donovan Zimmerman. You know they and their co-conspirators are not getting rich doing this, so you already have to love them for pouring their hearts, souls, energy, and savings accounts (as if) into carrying forth a mighty mission. From their website: “Our vision is inspired by our love for the earth and its creatures (including humans) as well as our belief in justice, equality, and peace.” And this: “Paperhand’s mission is to make work that inspires people, promotes social change, and is deeply satisfying for everyone involved.”

There are always (I think) four acts. The third ends with the biggest puppet/creature (carried forth by several people) going up into the audience to be touched by adoring children in the crowd. The first year we went, in 2006, the star was a heart-achingly beautiful 20-foot Buddha. This year it was a lion. But it was so much more than that.

Children rush to touch the lion as it lumbers through the crowd

This year’s 10th anniversary show,  “The Living Sea of Memory” (in the area through Sept. 12), is  dedicated to Kevin Brock, the band’s drummer and dear friend, who died last year at the very early age 37.  There has been a huge outpouring of love for this man who illuminated many people’s universes. The lion in the performance is Kevin. It comes through the crowd after the act called “Memory,” in which family stories (from the cast) are shared through the puppets. I think I would have cried anyway, but after losing my mom this year, those stories tore me up.  When the lion came lumbering up the stairs of the wonderful Forest Theatre amphitheater, children rushed up, hands reaching out to touch him. Pure magic.

In 2009, the usual standing ovation for another magnificent show

I read today that several of the shows on this current tour have been rained out, which means less money for the troupe.  I don’t expect you to read this and send in a little tax-deductible donation to help cover Paperhand’s rent, but you’re certainly welcome to.  And please try to see these amazing artists and activists.  They are the change they wish to see.