Magnolia and Moonshine | Fall 2023

Magnolia

& MOONSHINE

WETUMPKA Celebrating the Arts • Art Galleries • Events • Museums • Shopping • Fishing • White Water Kayaking • Restaurants

Wetumpka Wildlife Arts Festival November 11th 10:00 - 4:00

Christmas on the Coosa Saturday December 9th Fun All Day!

Good food, historic sites and events It’s all here… Visit Wetumpka

w w w.Wetumpka AL .gov CIT Y OF WETUMPK A | 408 S. MAIN STREET | WETUMPK A, AL. 36092

Enter the world of WINNIE and discover the latest in bridal fashion. www.WINNIECOUTURE.com #WinnieBRIDE #iDoinWinnie

COLUMBUS FLAGSHIP SALON

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6401 WHITESVILLE RD . COLUMBUS . GA 31904

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706.221.5519

ATLANTA . BEVERLY HILLS . HOUSTON . CHICAGO . BOSTON . DALLAS . COLUMBUS SAN FRANCISCO . NASHVILLE . CHARLOTTE . AUSTIN

Magnolia

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

& MOONSHINE

Publisher: Katie Waldrep

Managing Editor: Cara D. Clark Content Editors: Leslie Anne Jones & Joan McLendon Budd Layout & Design: Denise DuBois Advertising Sales: Darlene Spears & Taylor White Graphic Designer: Laura Messer Social Media: Ivey Evans Contributing Writers, Photographers & Stylists Katie Waldrep Katharyn Privett-Duren Mary Dansak Marian Carcache John N. Felsher Leslie Anne Jones Denise DuBois John West Kristina Hendrix Sally Anne Sessitte Lizzie Hudson Adam Burton Morgan Duke Eliza Daffin Bob Farley Amy Massey On the Cover Acre Restaurant Photo by Bob Farley Fall 2023 • Volume 2, Number 4 Magnolia and Moonshine is a product of Magnolia Greene, Inc. in Seale, Alabama Follow us on Facebook and Instagram @magnoliaandmoonshine Email us your story ideas at Contactus@MagnoliaAndMoonshine.com Join the mailing list by scanning the QR code

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all in the South is a fabulous time when temperatures start to cool off, and pumpkins and apple bobbing starts to pick up. With the relief from the heat comes a great time of year to get outside and enjoy activities such as hiking, fishing, and hunting. Or if those aren’t your cup of tea, it is always great to wander through a pumpkin patch sipping a pumpkin spiced latte. Then you take home your pumpkin finds and any colorful fallen leaves to decorate your tablescape. My kids love to carve Jack-o’-lanterns and proudly display them on the front porch when it’s time to go trick-or-treating.

My tip for moms with little kids is to make sure that costumes can go from extremely hot weather to almost freezing temps. After all, we are in the South, and we never know what the weather will be on Halloween night!

In this issue, we bring you interior and landscape expert James Farmer. I’m sure you have heard of him because he is such a fun author and social media personality.

James is quite the entertainer and shows us how he decorates his home in Perry,

Georgia.

We also had the opportunity to interview Chef David Bancroft of Acre in Auburn, Alabama. He speaks of family memories and what inspired him to become a chef. David also shares his unusual take on preparing a wild turkey and gifts us with a family giblet gravy recipe.

If you have dined at Acre, you will notice the beautiful pottery that your dinner is served on. These one-of-a-kind creations are made by Tena Payne, owner of Earthborn Pottery based in Leeds, Alabama. You can find her unique plates even in the Bellagio in Las Vegas. We tell you about her 20-year journey coming up with special recipes for the pottery and glazes.

We hope you enjoy our newest edition.

Thanks for following and subscribing!

Happy Fall, y’all!

Katie Waldrep Publisher Magnolia and Moonshine MagnoliaandMoonshine.com

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14 Acre: Heir to Ideas

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Rules of the Game(Day) David Bancroft’s Acre in Auburn Marsh Hen Mill: Where Heritage Meets Taste Tested by Time: Historic South Carolina Home Represents Lasting Legacy

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Into the Valley of Death: LSU Fans Welcome Friends and Rivals to Tailgate Replacements Limited: Collectors Turn to Expert Curation Company Into the Mystic: A Halloween Story Secrets of Splinter Hill Bog: A Carnivorous Plant Hideaway

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Standouts on the Field Campesino Rum: Adventurer Discovers New Formula for Distilling Jungle Rum Under the Muscadine Vine: Fall Retrospective Southern Essentials Mama Said: Whip that Dressing Neal Lucas: Soul on the Six String

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68 Frightful & Delightful

8 Gathering with Gratitude 45 Designer James Farmer

51 Reel Giveback 24 Earthborn Pottery www.MagnoliaandMoonshine.com

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ictured left to right is the Magnolia and Moonshine team: Lynne Frakes, founder; Betsy Illges, contributing stylist; Joan Budd, content editor; Katie Waldrep, publisher; Cara Clark, managing editor; Denise DuBois, layout and design; and Taylor White, advertising sales. Not pictured: Leslie Anne Jones, content editor; Darlene Spears, advertising sales; and Ivey Evans, social media. Photo by Morgan Duke.

A WARM WELCOME We’re pleased to announce that Alabama native, Cara Clark, has recently joined us as Managing Editor of Magnolia & Moonshine.

Cara, a graduate of Auburn University with a double major in Journalism and English, comes to the magazine after her role as Managing Editor of Birmingham Business Journal in Birmingham, Alabama. She is a longtime, award-winning writer, editor, and freelance writer and has served as communications manager for Bassmaster. Her work has also been featured in Birmingham Home and Garden, Desert Magazine, Good Grit, The Dallas Express, Business Alabama, Birmingham Medical News, The Montgomery Advertiser, Executive Traveler, Portico, Bassmaster, Bass Times, Alabama Game & Fish, Alabama Weddings, and others.

During her tenure as a writer, Cara spent time as a journalist embedded with troops in

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Afghanistan during two stints in 2010. While there, she flew on emergency and routine missions with Medevac troops in combat zones. She was honored to ride along and cover work of route clearance crews, agribusiness development teams, soldier training of Afghan National Army forces, provincial reconstruction teams, military police training of Afghan police officers, combat missions, International Security Assistance Force missions and more.

Cara’s Weimaraner and German Shorthair Pointer have inspired her to cook up healthy canine meals in her kitchen (aka Bird Dog Bistro). She enjoys all things equine and outdoors, travel, and learning new insights into interior design and landscape architecture. She loves bird-dogging feature ideas and finding avid collectors to share their stories.

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Gathering with Gratitude A

s Summer’s heatseasoned leaves turn to Autumnal hues and drift free of their branches, families and friends turn to time-honored traditions and gather. A bountiful harvest table brings together a seasonal palette with dishes that tempt the taste buds and revives memories of holidays gone by. With its pops of bright hues and feathery accents, Juliska’s Forest Walk pattern sets the stage for a tryptophanenhanced dinner with a fall assortment of china on Vista Alegre green chargers and Juliska rugged rope place mats. Complementing the burled wood table and forest tones are Juliska Puro Tortoiseshell stemless wine glasses and large tumblers.

The Juliska gravy boat and pumpkin tureens take pride of place in the center. Vietri Albero Oak five-piece place settings team with Coral & Tusk feather dinner napkins and a Coral & Tusk Feather Harmony table runner. Photos

by Bob Farley Photography.

Styling by Bromberg’s Jewelers in Birmingham.

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etting the scene for a festive dinner, a Juliska Devon Willow 31inch stag vase, new to the collection this year, is enhanced with dried and fresh leaves, flowers, and feathers.

Assorted Juliska Forest Walk leaf plates and Forest Walk mugs are set for dessert and coffee. Opposite page: Juliska pumpkin tureens include a floral arrangement with an array of marigold, Alstromeria, dahlias, kangaroo paw, smoke bush, amaranthus, and solidago.

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RULES OF THE GAME (DAY) Story by Sally Anne Sessitte Fall in the South is magical for a lot of reasons.

Mainly, the magic is Saturday game days. There’s no better tradition than spending all week planning for a full day of friends, food, and as much alcohol as you can drink. There is no higher honor in the South than to be relied on to bring a particular thing each week — becoming the “chicken person” is a higher honor and a better sign that “you’ve arrived” than an Augusta National membership.

Game day Saturdays are marathons — you may lose your ticket, car, date, or composure, but please do not lose your manners. Win every tailgate, and be sure to be invited back with the tips below. Send any tips I’ve forgotten to me by email at sallyanne@ magnoliaandmoonshine.com.

Don’t show up hands hangin’. Southern rules

apply here just the same as when you go visit a friend out of town or are hosted for supper — bring something. Bring whatever you are bringing, and then bring ice. Bring the ice in a cooler. You might ask if they need ice or a cooler, and they might say no. Bring ice in a cooler anyway. If they really don’t need the cooler because it’s a fancy tailgate with tablecloths and silver candelabra (looking at you, Ole Miss) you can quietly tuck that cooler under the table.

Check a bag. Just like your mama told you, you’re in charge of your own self, and in this case, that means you must have at least the following essential items in your bag, wagon, or in your date’s pocket: phone charger and extra power bank, enough water (drinking, cleaning, heat control, various bodily function uses) and ice for yourself and all those who travel with you for the day, and

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at least a handful of napkins. If you want to be the tailgate MVP, show up with baby wipes. If you need to ask why, you might need to watch the game at home.

Read the room. If the group text reads like The New York Times recipe section, or if you see the words fig, brie, or microgreens, do not roll in with a bag of Tostitos and a jar of salsa. If you can’t cook, purchase. Here’s how you will know if you need to purchase: if you are always asked to please bring ice, napkins, and plates, then you can’t cook. That’s fine because the Lord gives us all different gifts.

Another note: Bring what you say you’re gonna’ bring. If you commit to a tray of Zaxby’s chicken fingers, do not roll up with a bowl of pasta salad, even if the Zaxby’s near you is closed and you have to drive clear across three counties to get those chicken fingers. Southerners can handle a lot, but messing up a menu is not taken lightly.

Beach rules apply. If you want to sit, bring a chair. If you don’t bring a chair, you are either standing or perching. That cooler everyone needs to open every few minutes is not your seat. Don’t judge the overly drunk single girl who does sit on the cooler — it’s not subtle, but she is meeting every male at that tailgate once every 15-20 minutes or so.

Give it up. If you are the ticket giver, give it up before the game, and don’t make your guest beg or track you down. If you’re the ticket taker, make contact before the day gets going, and do not wander off without your ticket in hand (or phone).

Making someone chase you down for tickets or missing kickoff is a definite “Don’t.” Note: these rules may be modified if your ticket borrower shows up in obnoxious rival team gear. Govern yourselves accordingly.

Find the potty. Figure out the potty situation before you need to figure out the potty situation.

SEC Towel. If you’re in the SEC, bring a sweat towel. If it’s crisp in the morning and you think it’s fall in the SEC, no it’s not. That is fake fall and cannot be trusted. You’ll be drenched by noon.

If the tailgate is outside, there is no shame in bringing an extra shirt. Since we are on this topic, no body paint after age 20. Your mama or your Sunday School group leader might see you on TV in that getup. Also — and mostly — because sweat plus body paint equals nope.

Surf Respectfully. If you are guesting at a tailgate, spend the majority of the day there. If you do need to go gate-to-gate, it is best to let your host know you need to visit your cousin to meet her new boyfriend at the Chi Phi house, and that you should be back well before kickoff, but you know your cousin’s a talker, so if you’re not back by kickoff, please don’t wait.

The Plan Stan. Write a plan for the entire day down on a piece of lined paper. Now rip it up. The only planning that matters is the when-

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Here’s how you will know If you need to purchase: if you are always asked to please bring ice, napkins, and plates, then you can’t cook. That’s fine because the Lord gives us all different gifts. to-crack-the-first drink plan, which should be well established by Saturday, as it involves such important variables as whether breakfast requires mimosas (early games) or biscuits, coffee, and Gatorade (night games.) Game days are fluid and flexibility is required. Things and people will get lost, broken, and drunk (again, night games). If you are not naturally flexible, follow rule of one or the other. First add beer. If that doesn’t work, add liquor. One or the other is the answer.

The Ribs Rule. Don’t brag about how good your ribs/chicken salad/smoked brisket is unless you are bringing your ribs/chicken salad/smoked brisket.

Diet. No one cares. Even if you’re a cardiologist, if you start to talk about saturated fat, you are not getting invited back. Every fall Saturday, the entire SEC and southeast is engaged in a community-wide fantasy where dips are vegetables, beer is water, and walking around the parking lot is exercise.

Beer Counter. Trash goes in the trash can.

Don’t be the guy who saves every empty can and announces his beer count. That guy is not getting invited back.

Beer Counter 2.0. Don’t be the guy who brings super special beer and then wants to take home his leftover beers. That guy is not getting invited back. Once a beer arrives at a tailgate, it becomes a tailgate beer, and it does not go home. Tailgate beer goes to the person who needs it the most at any given moment. For example: in the truly awful event of a game-day breakup situation, the impacted person gets the beer. If a new mom is tailgating for the first few times without her baby(ies), she gets the beer. If there’s a lifelong diehard Auburn fan at the party and his team lets him down in a big rivalry game, he gets the beer. This rule may be modified if he arrives in obnoxious Auburn gear. Note: this rule applies to all beverages. Just don’t be the person with the cold wet arm at the end of the night digging around to “get your stuff out.”

The Offer. Do not get yourself another drink without offering to get another drink for all fans within earshot. Do not attend without offering to bring something. Do not leave without offering to clean up. Your host will decline all these offers, do them all anyway.

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Acre: Heir to Ideas

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ward-winning chef David Bancroft of Acre in Auburn learned an appreciation of the land’s bounty from his grandfather. He parlayed that into two successful restaurants and has battled it out on camera with celebrity chefs like Bobby Flay.

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ACRE CHEF’S CONNECTION TO THE LAND SHAPES PATH TO SUCCESS Story by Cara Clark Photos by Bob Farley

With the onset of fall, the cornfield has gone gold — just outside the commanding stone structure of Acre restaurant in Auburn, Alabama. While the stalks wither in the wait-for-winter-dormancy, pear trees around the property are still heavy with fruit, and olive, oak, and maple trees cling to their foliage for a bit longer. Behind the restaurant, a beloved bay laurel generously adds its leaves to the flavors of Chef David Bancroft’s culinary creations.

Every plant, bush, and tree has been purposely positioned to take advantage of each corner of the restaurant’s acre plot, a head-scratcher for members of the city’s zoning board accustomed to requests for boxwoods and knockout roses in their busy business district. David proposed blueberry bushes, pear trees, and watermelon and tomato vines to make the most of what the land has to offer, an affinity the chef has felt throughout his life.

As a child, the Iron Chef competition winner and multiple James Beard Award nominee grew a connection to the land in much the same way as an acorn, exposed to elements, opens and sends out

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deep roots for a firm hold as it dives through rich soil. Much of that link to the outdoors and its bounty sprouted from his own family tree with his paternal grandfather’s farming and his mother’s expertise as a Japanese and Asian lotus grower.

But David had a dash of something else that started early and drove his curiosity to try and to prepare new foods. By fifth grade, he was making beef and deer jerky to sell in the school cafeteria.

As a teen, he took over as the family grill master to improve on the “hockey-puck” like patties being served as burgers. David started barbecuing at 14 or so and cooking briskets around 16. Instinctively, he knew he could elevate the flavor profile and improve on timing and texture.

“I was teaching myself how to do these things, including catching fish and doing family fish fries,” David says.

“I think it came mostly from the way I was raised,” David says. “And all the experiences of being outdoors and fishing with my grandparents and riding around on Grandpa Kennedy’s farm (in Hartford, Alabama).

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I would watch my grandmothers in the kitchen — cooking true Southern-style meals and serving on long tables.”

When as a young boy, David’s family moved to San Antonio, he watched ranchers and cowboys coming together into a culture of Texas-style barbecue combined with Mexican dishes.

“It was such a melting pot of Southern cuisine, Texas culture, and Mexican influence,” he recalls.

“And obviously coastal cuisine — all that just blended together, and I just could never get enough.”

After studying finance and accounting at Auburn University, David thought he might follow his father’s lead and go into hospital administration. But when his fraternity voted him kitchen steward, it was evident he needed to realign his trajectory.

“They made me in charge of the meals for 130 fraternity brothers, and I would manage the chef and the order and everything that was going on,” David says.

During one summer break, he was a deckhand on a boat out of New Orleans, bringing in the freshest fare from the sea. But those inherited ties to the land remained strong, too.

“My great grandpa was the businessman, and when Grandfather took over the farm, he started raising cattle, chickens, and peanuts, but his passion was fish farming — catfish and tilapia.”

Grandpa Kennedy (David’s maternal grandfather) opened a fresh fish market in a house next to the farm, which eventually transitioned into Ten Mile Creek Farm restaurant.

“I was just blown away,” David says. “I thought, ‘This is unbelievable. We have a restaurant.’”

His grandfather hired staff to run the restaurant and built a cinderblock tank with an aerator outside.

Much like the live lobster tanks in seafood spots, the catfish would be swimming one minute, then scooped up, cleaned, cooked, lightly seasoned and served the next. Not only were Grandpa Kennedy’s catfish the freshest, but they were also among the cleanest. A visionary, when he built his fish farm, he elevated the growing catfish in baskets to keep them off the pond bottoms.

Grandpa Kennedy — a banker, a fish farmer, a cattleman, a restaurateur, and a land developer — also cured catfish in a small cinderblock smokehouse on the farm.

“People would drive for miles to get smoked catfish from him,” David says. “Grandpa was the all-encompassing package of outdoors, where his farming and agriculture background met the center of the plate at a restaurant —truly farm-to-table.”

His grandfather’s approach was an allencompassing package of outdoors, where his farming and agriculture background met the center of the plate at a restaurant — truly “farm to table.”

The appreciation of outdoors was strong in both sides of the family. David’s paternal grandfather, Bob Bancroft, took him fishing around the Orange

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avid’s Grandpa Kennedy shaped many of his perspectives with his visionary ideas on catfish farming and more.

Beach area and around Fairhope where they created memories together late at night on push boats lighted for flounder gigging.

Having soaked in experiences and flavors during summers at the farm and the beach, and during school years in Texas, David wants his children to enjoy the same outdoor opportunities as he had.

“I’m passionate about all of those things, and they are intentional things that I’m teaching my children,” David says.

The chef and father of two met his wife, Christin, at Auburn University, just as his parents met while attending there in the 1970s. Despite having seen his grandfather open a restaurant, David said it was “never really the plan” for him, although as a junior at Auburn, he mentioned to his father that he might like to attend the Culinary Institute of America in New York— something he never did.

Instead, David went to work in a restaurant in Auburn during his college years to see how it felt.

When the head chef and sous chef quit soon after, he was suddenly head chef at a mere $11 an hour, and the owners gave him the go-ahead to experiment, with the caveat not to lose a lot of money.

“I started buying food from literally all over the planet,” David says. “I was buying fish from Australia and Japan, buying elk, ostrich, emu — and I taught myself culinary skills in that kitchen.

Unbelievably, people just started lining out the door.

And many of the cooks and sous chefs on that team went on to be chefs and restaurateurs.”

Armed with experience, recipes, ideas, and that never-ending hunger for food and flavor, David and Christin drove north to Birmingham for dinner at

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hroughout Acre, Chef David Bancroft was careful to incorporate meaningful elements.

With exposed beams crafted from trees on his Grandpa Kennedy’s farm and one of his grandfather’s fish baskets transformed into a chandelier, memories are prevalent in the dining alcove. At left, David snapped his favorite photo of Grandpa Kennedy on the bank of the fish pond. www.MagnoliaandMoonshine.com

Frank Stitt’s uber successful Highlands Bar & Grill.

“I was in there just picking the menu apart — not critiquing anything but discovering,” David says. “I would say look how he did this.”

It was after returning to Auburn from that experience that Christin told him, “You know what to do.”

“We started flipping through Yellow Pages, trying to find local farmers and producers,” David says. “It just came together by thinking about how Grandpa did it. He would say, ‘Well, I used their corn meal, and I traded butter beans with them, and we did peas with this family, and they wanted catfish, or they leased my land so they would bring the venison, and we’d have deer meat on the table.’ It was a total co-op. That concept is what bled into all the farm-totable food in the beginning of Acre.”

Acre pays homage to all things Alabama with a touch of Texas. David opened a second restaurant, Bow and Arrow in Auburn, to showcase the Texas influence on his palate — from serving scratch-made tortillas to brisket tacos and hand-pressed margaritas.

“With two restaurants up and going, our team is just booming and bursting at the seams, which is awesome,” David says. “And we have amazing leadership at both restaurants. Between the two restaurants, we have over 140 employees.”

With son Walker, 12, and daughter Kennedy, 10, the Bancrofts are working to fit in Little League, cheerleading, competitive dance, travel baseball, peewee football, and, high on the priority list, spending time in nature. Both children are hunters and are learning what the land gives and how it nourishes body and soul.

As for Acre, it all goes back to David’s lifelong connection with the land. The restaurant has productive garden areas all over its acre — lemons, blackberries, Arbequina olives, apples, plums, peaches, figs, persimmons, Cherokee Purple tomatoes, hot peppers, strawberries, Valencia oranges, and Key limes.

“So, all of that is me tapping into Grandpa’s style and using every inch of land,” David says. “My main objective when building the restaurant was for it to look lived in and to have accessibility for me to walk around and tell intentional stories.”

Engaging his cousin as interior designer, David brought all the elements to her and asked her to help realize his vision. In the front dining room, a fish basket from Grandpa Kennedy’s fish farm takes pride of place as a repurposed chandelier. A photo of an old general store in nearby Crawford depicts the source of the wooden beams in Acre — when the siding was pulled from the structure, a true log cabin was revealed beneath. Those logs now make up the restaurant’s central bar. Floor to ceiling oak walls (constructed from straight oaks grown on the family farm and handpicked by Grandpa Kennedy and David) evoke memories of days on that farm.

“My vision has become reality and there’s lots of opportunities for me to walk around and story-tell,” he said. “Everywhere you look, you’re surrounded by these memories — they infuse the whole restaurant. That’s an amazing feeling.”

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ield to table: David has prepared two turkeys his son bagged in the woods. The most recent was transformed into a roulade for a twist on the conventional Thanksgiving turkey preparation. He shares his recipes for the roulade and his grandmother’s must-have Thanksgiving Day giblet gravy and rice.

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WILD TURKEY ROULADE

WILD TURKEY GIBLET GRAVY

1 cleaned turkey breast 1 minced white onion ½ stick salted butter 4 cups cooked cornbread 1 sprig chopped rosemary 2/3 cup dried cranberries 2 large eggs Butcher’s twine Kosher salt

Begin by cleaning turkey breast and making sure to remove any bird shot. Butterfly breast towards the inside seam, but leave the last inch of breast meat connected between the two pieces so they remain one large piece. Lay the breasts out flat, basically making a “butterfly” shape. Using a meat mallet, pound the turkey meat thin until the whole piece is about 3/4-inch thick.

Next, prepare the cornbread filling by melting the butter in a skillet and cooking the onions slowly until very soft. Add the rosemary and cranberries, and simmer one more minute. Remove from heat, and pour cranberry mix into a medium mixing bowl. Add cornbread and eggs, and mix until you get a thick even filling. Lay the turkey breasts out flat and sprinkle a pinch of salt onto the inside of the turkey breasts.

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Form the filling into an even log, and lay across the top 1/3 of the turkey breast.

Begin to roll the turkey over the cornbread like a cigar until you form a roulade. Using butcher’s twine, tie several loops around the roulade to secure its shape. Most likely you will need to tie 7-8 loops around it to hold while cooking.

Drizzle olive oil over the outside of the roulade, and sprinkle salt to season it to your preference. Bake the roulade in a large Pyrex dish or nonstick tray at 300 degrees Fahrenheit until the center reaches approximately 150 degrees Fahrenheit. If you feel more comfortable cooking your roulade further, then you may take it 165 degrees Fahrenheit in the center.

Wild turkey naturally has better flavor but doesn’t contain as much fat content. Cooking it further will result in a drier texture.

Cleaned turkey giblets, heart, livers (fresh chicken will work the same) ½ stick salted butter 3 quarts chicken stock 2 diced ribs celery 2 bay leaves 2 chopped hard-boiled eggs Cornstarch slurry 2 quarts fresh cooked white rice

Melt butter in a medium/large sauce pot. Add turkey parts, and simmer until fully cooked. Remove pot from heat and remove turkey pieces. Allow to cool, and then dice into small pieces. Add meat and diced celery back into the pot and bring to a simmer.

Pour stock over and add bay leaves.

Bring the pot to a simmer, and allow the stock to reduce by 1/3-1/2 of the total liquid amount. Make corn starch slurry, and thicken gravy to your preference. Adjust salt, then remove from heat, and add the diced hard-boiled egg.

Serve immediately by pouring gravy over each serving of rice. Have a second helping!

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Tena Payne

A 20-YEAR OVERNIGHT SUCCESS STORY: EARTHBORN POTTERY ELEVATES CHEFS’ CREATIONS Story By Cara Clark Hefty bricks of ochre-tone clay are stacked on a table, malleable and patient, as they wait to take shape. Their transformation could take them across the nation or across the Atlantic, and the woman determining their destiny will send them on their journey with quiet Godspeed and blessings for those they encounter.

Tena Payne, creator and owner of Earthborn Pottery, calls her renowned pottery a 20-yearlong overnight success. Her signature spiral seal, inspired by ammonite fossils dating back more than 60,000 years, appears on plates, bowls, platters, and serving pieces, reminds her of the endless spirals that appear in the universe — including the form of DNA and the Fibonacci sequence of numbers, an approximation of the “golden ratio.”

Her artistry began early with an introduction to pottery in high school, and while she knew she found her calling, finding exactly what that meant would take some time and transitions, all

ultimately spiraling out as they brought together the tools she needed to become part of a much larger whole.

“Any potter anywhere that’s making a living making pottery will say there’s a moment you remember — that’s when I got hooked,” Tena says. “It’s just like that moment when you got saved. You are forever hooked because the thing about clay is that there’s no end to it — no limitations — only infinite possibilities.

Man has had a relationship with clay since the beginning of time, and that’s how we date our ancient civilizations. We study the pottery and the etchings and look at the cuneiform (ancient logo-syllabic script) on clay tablets.”

Taking that mental journey back in time brings a sort of mystic wonder to each piece.

“One of the things I really love about going to a museum is to pop into pottery exhibitions. If you stand there long enough and look, you can find a thumbprint from somebody that lived 5,000 years ago and did the same thing that you do every day. Just like that, all that time just melts

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away. It’s fascinating.”

In Earthborn’s 20,000-plus-foot factory in Leeds, Alabama, the kilns run hot and often as pieces are processed. The company uses 144,000 pounds of red clay bricks twice a year to meet the demand of chefs from famous restaurants and resorts worldwide. Tena bought five new kilns in 2019 and recently brought three of her older ones back into service to meet demand. But she wasn’t always in big business.

Tena left her art studies at the University of Montevallo to marry husband, Wynn.

While literally keeping a hand in her craft, Tena was raising two children, working a full-time job and squeezing in art shows when she could manage. She knew she wanted to make a living in the pottery field, but finding a practical way was daunting. One of her careers at a personnel agency, matching people to jobs that fit their skill sets, also gave her insights into what was needed to make a successful business.

“Any product you bring to market needs to be distinctive, functional, memorable, repeatable,” she says. “To make a living with my pottery, I had to have consistent customers, and I knew art shows weren’t going to get it. You can’t pay the mortgage with your art shows. So, I started thinking about who uses plates.”

Around 1997, during a stint as an editorial assistant at Southern Living magazine, she began puzzling out the best way to build a business. Tena was going through reader letters as part of her job and learned about someone with a shiitake mushroom farm.

She and her husband visited to learn more — logs can be drilled with holes, injected with mushroom spawn, and thoroughly soaked with water. Every 10 weeks, they fruit again. The couple inoculated 600 logs, not considering that all of them would produce at the same time. But they did.

“It was unbelievable,” Tena recalls. “We had big beautiful meaty mushrooms — gorgeous mushrooms. The first time the log fruits is the strongest and the most beautiful.

And it’ll put on mushrooms for three weeks.

We were getting 60 to 70 pounds a week.”

Overwhelmed by the success of the project, the Paynes sold them to then grocerygiant Bruno’s. They had more to dry, freeze, and give away.

“Finally, I thought about who uses fresh mushrooms, so I knocked on the back doors of all these restaurants (in Birmingham),” she says. “Everybody bought my mushrooms.”

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t the luxury resort The Lodge at Torrey Pines in California, the food is fabulous, but Earthborn’s plates steal the show. From famed restaurants in the south to the west coast, the pottery is perennially popular.

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athan Payne of Earthborn often ponders the longevity of the pottery his mom created: “In archaeology, we see people unearthing pots from thousands of years ago and hypothesizing about who made them and what they meant.

What else can you make in a week that lasts a millennium?”

A CULINARY COLLABORATION Among those interested in the stunning shiitakes was Chef Chris Hastings, owner of James Beard award-winning Hot & Hot Fish Club and of Oven Bird. “I looked around while he was writing me a check, and I saw some broken plates on the floor,” Tena remembers. “I said, ‘You know, I’m a potter.’ And he said, ‘We need to talk.”

That was the prompt to prosperity her business needed in the late 1990s. For the next six years, through trial and error, Tena perfected her products, and Chris helped.

“I asked if they had to be round and wide plates, and when he said no, that was the key,” Tena says. “That’s the key to what’s happening now. You do what you want to do. It was the challenge of keeping it functional and utilitarian, but artistic and distinctive at the same time. And again, consistency, recognizability, durability, functionality. All of that got married together.”

With the acclaimed chef ’s input, Tena tested shapes and glazes, learning empirically which pieces chipped and which glazes scratched or which glazes did and didn’t complement the food.

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She continued refining formulas.

“After six years, he (Chris Hastings) quit complaining, and I realized I had a product I could sell to other chefs,” says Tena, who at that point was writing copy for advertising at a radio station. The questions she had for her clients — Who’s your customer? What’s their demographic? How are you tracking them? How are you reaching them? — were the questions she needed to ask herself to create a successful business for a niche market.

That eureka moment led her to search culinary shows online in April 2003, and she found the American Culinary Federation show, scheduled for August in Washington, D.C. “I had that amount of time to build a body of work,” she says. “I had $3,000 to start my business — I’d saved it $20 at a time when I wrote my checks for groceries. A couple of girlfriends helped me load everything, and off we went.”

At the show, Tena sold everything she’d made. And was told by numerous attendees she needed to attend the next show in New Orleans.

“Scraping up enough money” for the trip, Tena and her friends each loaded a carry-on suitcase with serving pieces, platters, and bowls — things people could serve on. The group circulated

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arthborn Pottery’s trademark spiral stamp is inspired by the genuine ammonite fossils she holds. Opposite: After the clay pieces dry, they await Tena’s special recipe glaze that transforms them - once dipped, the pieces go to the kilns where high temperatures “strike” the finish, producing the glossy and lasting pièce de résistance. around the convention hall, asking those displaying to borrow the pieces for their products and providing them a stack of business cards for anyone who asked about the origin of the unique pieces. And ask they did.

“We were walking down the middle of the aisle —and at the time, there weren’t a lot of women at the trade show,” Tena says. “And this guy came up waving my card and said, ‘Are you the one who created this?’”

He asked if she could make 5,000 plates.

Despite the challenge, Tena fulfilled the order for the world-famous Bellagio in Las Vegas, which commissioned her to create plates for Sensei and for their banquet lines as well.

That was success, but the struggle wasn’t over.

There were times when buying materials and filling orders meant the budget was stretched beyond its limits. In tears with worry over how to make payroll the next day, Tena was in her factory and showroom when the glass doors opened.

The visitor had dined with friends the previous evening, admiring the unique plates on their table. He wrote a $4,000 check for a set of his own, making her payroll and kicking the can that next block down the road.

“God blesses me,” she says. “He brings me

people. This has been a total walk of faith.”

And the success of Earthborn continues spiraling outward like an ammonite, reaching new restaurants and private tables internationally.

Part of the recipe to that success, aside from a glaze made from a cake-like recipe of earth ingredients, is being like-minded.

“I can relate to the chefs who are my clients,” Tena says. “I can talk to them on their level, and they appreciate my work because this is cooking just as much as what they’re doing.

We’re rearranging raw materials, putting them in the oven and offering them to other people.

It’s the very same thing. We take our ingredients out of the ground. We rearrange them to our experiences.”

Holding a small sky blue bowl —the color palette of the glazes take their cues from earthtones ranging from Paradise Blue to River Rock, Waterfall, and Peacock, among others — Tena explains the four-ounce sauce pot can be created with multiple variations in pattern and color.

“Everything is variable except the four ounces,” she explains. “It’s got to stack. It’s got to be durable, but everything from the foot to the lip to the glaze can be variable. One of the things

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that I thrive on is solutions. I am a problem solver.”

The company recently completed two of its largest orders — one for Botanic in Opelika, Alabama, and one for Sushisamba, with restaurants in London, Las Vegas, and New York. She’s just been asked to provide pieces for Auburn University’s new Rane Culinary Science Center, a point of pride for the steadily growing business.

“When you come into a business with only three grand, you have to be creative,” says Tena, a self-proclaimed dumpster diver, collects tossed-out racks and useful storage pieces from garage sales and wherever they appear. “One of the main things that I did was make a deal with the chefs. If they would credit me on their menu or with cards if people asked, and give me access to a head shot, recipes, and images, I would give them discounts in the early days. They jumped at that proposition because it made the price competitive with commercial white ware.”

Advantages over white ware include character and longevity. With a high iron content and intense pressurization during the process from clay to bisque shapes, the vitrified pieces become steely strong. They also bring a panache to the plate that can’t be argued.

When Chris Hastings competed on Iron Chef, defeating Bobby Flay in 2012, some of the points that took him over the top were presentation and originality. Tena drove across country to deliver her distinctive plates for service, as well as fresh vegetables for his recipes and the moonshine that would accompany the winning dish.

It was a pinnacle of her pottery career to be part of the competition, topped only recently by being selected for the culinary school at Auburn University.

Earthborn’s client list reads like a guide to best restaurants and clubs from Alabama to Amsterdam, including Seito Sushi, The Rawls, The Manship, Duck and Waffle in London, Peche, Soby’s, Sensei, Sugar Cane Raw Bar and Grill, Spring House, and more.

Testimonials for her pottery come from experts in cuisine with influences from all corners of the globe from Sushi to Southern.

Nathan Payne, Tena’s son, joined Earthborn to keep the kilns and orders running smoothly. He often ponders the longevity of the pieces they craft: “In archaeology, we see people unearthing pots from thousands of years ago and hypothesizing about who made them and what they meant. What else can you make in a week that lasts a millennium?”

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Edisto Island: Tales

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from the Tidelands

Atlantic breezes buffet the outlying islands of South Carolina’s waters, and the ocean tides rush with surges into low-lying areas bringing the riches of the briny sea. Teeming with aquatic treasures and the beauties of wildlife, Edisto Island is rich in lore, tradition, and promise. In this section, we visit Marsh Hen Mills, famed for its purple grits, and take a walk back in time to learn the legacy of a Black King of Edisto, Jim Hutchinson.

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MARSH HEN MILL: WHERE HERITAGE MEETS TASTE Story by Mary Dansak There was a time when a serving of grits was a mere vehicle for butter and salt, a filler for the space on the plate between the bacon and eggs.

Later, “grits” became a punchline for Flo on Alice who slung the expression, “Kiss my grits” across television sets throughout the land. Eventually, grits made it to the world of T-shirts and bumper stickers with its punchy acronym, Girls Raised in The South.

Oh, how times have changed. The lowly grit has come a long way. Today, grits are enjoying a renaissance. You can find grits on menus from New York to Hawaii, from fine dining establishments to neighborhood dives. When my own daughter suggested a grits bar at her wedding, I thought she’d lost her mind until I learned that this was a thing, a popular option for Christmas breakfasts, fancy brunches, and yes, wedding receptions.

Intrigued by this surging popularity of grits, I visited one of the country’s eminent millers, a place where artisanal grits are grown, ground, packaged, shipped, and sold: Marsh Hen Mill on Edisto Island, South Carolina.

Marsh Hen Mill, located on scenic Highway 174, is as quiet and unassuming as the little bird it’s named after. Nestled in the heart of South Carolina’s Lowcountry, in a spot bejeweled with live oaks and Spanish moss, and bathed in the golden glow of the marsh, Marsh Hen Mill is situated just south of Steam Boat Creek, a branch of the North Edisto River.

Visitors are welcome to come in and browse the roadside shop, a wooden structure reminiscent of an old country store and filled to the brim with a variety of grits, cornbread, dried peas, popcorn, pickles, jams, jellies, and more.

A quick stop inside leaves one wondering just what makes good grits and why there are so many varieties.

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“It all begins with the corn,” Allen Bonow, Marsh Hen Mill’s business development manager, explains. Marsh Hen Mill’s six varieties of heirloom corn are as colorful as their names: Jimmy Red, Guinea Flynt, Sea Island Blue, White, Yellow, and Unicorn. Differences in taste are attributable to the amount of sugar and oil in the kernels, as well as the geographic region in which they are grown. Like coffee, wine, and chocolate, grits have terroir, that is, the taste and quality of food being determined by the environment in which it is grown.

Jimmy Red Corn was the favorite corn of Lowcountry moonshiners in the days of yore.

Rumor has it that if you knew the right folks, you could acquire a bottle of smooth, auburn-toned hooch made from this corn back in the 1980s.

Named for James Island, where it was grown, and its deep red hue, Jimmy Red almost met extinction with just three ears in existence in the early 2000s.

Today, it is one of the most popular varieties of corn at Marsh Hen Mill, where it is now grown and milled.

Sea Island Blue, a corn variety described as floral in taste, produces grits and cornmeal with a lighter flavor. Sea Island Blue cornmeal makes for a fluffy cornbread with an unexpected sweetness that belies its black color.

Then there are Unicorn grits, pink and pretty.

“Unicorn is a legendary ear of corn that is highly desirable but difficult to find or obtain,” teases the description on the Marsh Hen Mill website. In fact, this corn is the result of a mutant gene responsible for a few red kernels on an ear of yellow corn. Through deliberate artificial selection, this corn now consistently produces pale pink grits and cornmeal, a delight for customers of all ages.

And wonder of wonders, a drop of lemon in your pink grits, a tangy acidic tweak, brightens the color to purple. Magical.

While staying abreast in all things trendy in the world of grits, Greg and Betsy Johnsman, owners of Marsh Hen Mill, value tradition as the cornerstone of their operation. Working only with heirloom varieties, Marsh Hen Mill relies on a 32,000-yearold process: stone-grinding.

“All those quick grits? They’re just whole kernels, smashed to smithereens,” Allen says, pounding his fist into his palm, scowling in disgust.

“The bran is just crushed up with the germ.”

Stone-grinding, on the other hand, preserves the sugars, oils, and integrity of the kernel’s meat.

Allen walked through the process.

Once the corn is harvested, dried, and separated from the cobs, the kernels are literally ground between two massive, round limestone stones.

Carved into these grindstones are grooves through which the meat of the kernel passes as the stones

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are ground together. The bran, which is the part of the kernel left behind, is thus separated from the good stuff. Stiff and flaky, the bran can then be used for animal feed.

Now freed from the bran, the corn’s meat is further ground and screened, separating the courser grind, the grits, from the finer dust, the corn meal.

The next step is packaging.

Standing at a stainless-steel workbench, Allen reached for a scoop below the surface. “This is Deedee’s scoop,” he says. “No matter what position they’re hired for, each new employee has to spend their first week of work at Marsh Hen Mill packaging with Deedee.”

Deedee, Marsh Hen Mill’s longest-term employee and family friend, has perfect muscle memory for an exact 1.5 pounds, the required weight of product for each bag. Her scooping and filling speed far exceeds that of the All-Fill machine, a gleaming, new-fangled contraption that sits unused in the corner, ready to be calibrated and set to release exactly 1.5 pounds of product into bags at a time.

Though not in use, it makes a handy shelf for the hand-sanitizer.

The overarching mission of Marsh Hen Mill is the preservation of ancient and authentic grains and processes.

“All of our products are non-GMO, grown on regenerative farms which focus on ecological practices like rotating corn, which depletes the nitrogen, with peas, which puts the nitrogen back in the soil,” Allen explains.

The Johnsman’s are currently experimenting with rice, packing it in oak barrels given to them by Burnt Church Distillery, layered between bay leaves as was the process in the 1700s. They will soon mill a year-old batch of this rice, and plan to open new barrels again in two, three, and four years.

“We’ll see how the flavor changes,” Allen says.

“Maybe we’ll find out what rice used to taste like.”

What it boils down to, he says in summation: “We’re in the business of saving seeds.”

Tradition and preservation aside, it so happens that this seed-saving business is just what our tastebuds need.

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John Girault (left) and Denzel Wright

TESTED BY TIME: HISTORIC SOUTH CAROLINA HOME REPRESENTS LASTING LEGACY Story by Lizzie Hudson Photos by Lizzie Hudson and Edisto Island Open Land Trust “This house has an energy to it for sure. I picked up energy myself, and honestly, we don’t work with people who don’t pick up on energy. You’ve got to really connect with this place to be a part of it.”

— John Girault Edisto Island Open Land Trust (EILOT) The road leading to a history-laden pea-green house is flanked by writhing limbs of live oaks, at once haunting and beckoning. Along the way, pluff mud — a dark, squishy, suction-creating mud common to coastal Lowcountry marshes — pops with hopping shrimp and bivalves amid a complex aroma of decomposition and life, and there is a sense of everlastingness on this land.

When the bright house finally appears with a red roof gleaming in the rain, the quiet energy is visceral.

It feels like a promise even before walking through its doors.

Hutchinson House, built in 1885, is one of the oldest surviving houses built by African Americans during the Reconstruction Era on Edisto Island, one of the many sea islands on South Carolina’s coast.

It is at once a unique structure and the source of a story with origins long before its construction. Its pine-clad walls and brick piers are a testament to the community that withstood the ravages of the hope and chaos of Reconstruction.

It is also the story of James Hutchinson, his son Henry, and his Gullah Geechee descendants

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who remain intricately connected to the house and its future. Due to the restoration efforts of EIOLT and Hutchinson family members, it will become a living museum and celebration of human pride and ingenuity.

Jim eventually was to be known as a “Black King of Edisto,” a small group of men, some newly freed from slavery, who launched successful careers as businessmen, politicians, builders, and planters during the Reconstruction era. Jim was perhaps the most prominent of these “kings,” renowned for his work in securing land, resources, and rights for the freedmen and women on Edisto.

For many in the community, including Community Outreach Coordinator Denzel Wright, the Hutchinson House is a personal story. Prior to his work with the Trust, he had never known that his forebears contributed to the community land co-op set up by James Hutchinson.

“As a kid, when we would see this house in its dilapidated state, we would pay it no mind,” Denzel says. “But since working here, discovering how the co-op (the way freed men attained land during Reconstruction) bought this foreclosed plantation and how our neighborhood came to be, I made a personal connection to it because my family still owns land, there’s a 10-acre tract there, that was purchased by my great grandfather during that initial co-op.

“I always wanted to know how we got here. It was a weird connection about being able to put my greatgreat-grandpa’s name to something that we have today — that connection —what he was able to pass down to us through that.”

The land beneath Hutchinson House begins the first page of the dwelling’s rich story, and land continues as a central force throughout its history.

The first known inhabitants of the island were the Edisto Indians, whose legacy can be found in rings of oyster shells and shards of pottery, known as colonware. Pieces of the historic material were discovered during excavations around Hutchinson House, tangible remnants of an early, thriving community.

The island’s first colonial land grant was awarded to Englishman Paul Grimball in 1683, which included the future Hutchinson House property. The collapse of the Indigo “blue gold” market — a lucrative Lowcountry crop prior to the Revolutionary War — made way for the wildly successful and coveted crop Sea Island cotton.

Importantly, during the colonial period the Gullah Geechee culture emerged among the enslaved African community of the island, beginning as a simple form of communication incorporating the many languages on the isolated island, and ultimately evolving into an entire, distinct culture — once viewed as “inferior,” but now celebrated.

James “Jim” Hutchinson was one of these Gullah Geechee, born enslaved circa 1836. From early adulthood, Jim proved his ingenuity. Following the

During its early years, the house, with its wide-open windows, 15 of them, carried the laughter of nine children across the salt marshes. Rain tapped on the silver tin roof, and the aroma of hot fish roasting with corn wafted on the sea air, while memories were made on a porch wrapping the main floor of the house. Neighbors were often there for parties and for prayer during storms that lashed at the doors but never made it in.

Union Army’s occupation of the island during the Civil War, Jim was instrumental in securing arrests of nine Confederate spies. He joined the Union Navy and served on three vessels, returning to Edisto a free man and, to many, a war hero.

Jim became a political activist in the local Republican Convention. He co-created a black-owned ferry company, one of the first on the bridgeless island. And, in 1870, he organized the first of several land purchase cooperatives for himself and neighboring freedmen and women, an arrangement in which community members pooled cash into a collection and were rewarded with land in return.

In all, Jim purchased more than 100 acres of land, including the parcel on which Hutchinson House would be built. Tragically, Jim never lived to see the first bricks laid. On July 4, 1885, he was murdered, leaving sons Henry and Lewis fatherless and his wife, Nancy, a widow. But in his short 46 years, Jim left an indelible footprint on the African American community as a war veteran, politician, investor, and community leader, seeding his legacy in generations to follow.

The Hutchinson sons never strayed from their father’s unrelenting resolve to succeed. On his 9 acres of inherited land, Henry grew a flourishing crop of the famed Sea Island cotton. And in the spirit of Jim’s unflinching care for his community, Henry was able to gin his neighbor’s cotton as well, acting as an intermediary for sales and loans. He eventually owned and operated a successful cotton gin.

But first, Henry had a house to build for his bride Rosa and the children they would raise.

During its early years, the house, with its wideopen windows, 15 of them, carried the laughter of nine children across the salt marshes. Rain tapped on the silver tin roof, and the aroma of hot fish roasting with corn wafted on the sea air, while memories were made on a porch wrapping the main floor of the house. Neighbors were often there for parties and for prayer during storms that lashed at the doors but never made it in.

The life-brimming house, built by Henry with the

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aid of his brother-in-law and an African American architect, is a rare example of vernacular domestic architecture built by African Americans during Reconstruction. The rectangular, one-and-a-half story house includes four rooms on a raised brick pier foundation, complete with a side-gabled roof and decorative eaves.

The scale and detailing of the Hutchinson house reflect the family’s prosperity and more largely, the economic empowerment realized by efforts of African Americans during a time replete with racial economic barriers.

Like the family that bears its name, the house proved resilient. Because of its solid construction and high piers, it withstood ferocious storms, including the 1893 Sea Island Hurricane that killed more than 1,000 people. Remarkably, the structure never suffered fire damage, or, thanks to the family and EIOLT, the fate of being razed by developers.

Henry died in 1941 and Rosa in 1949, but their children held tight to the house and land. Eldest daughter Lula Hutchinson Whaley, a notable educator in her own right, continued to live in the home, planting fruit and nut trees around the property. Throughout the decades, family members modified and modernized the house, until it was finally vacated in the early 1980s. During its lonely years, descendants appealed to potential donors to assist in preservation efforts, but the costs proved too

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dear. Henry’s granddaughter, Myrtle Hutchinson, was particularly passionate about saving the house of her childhood and secured its place on the National Register of Historic Places in 1987. But the family’s determination to restore the home never wavered.

For decades, the empty house was clothed in wisteria and undergrowth, surprising many who happened upon it during wooded, coastal walks – including EIOLT’s John Girault, Executive Director EIOLT. When John first climbed past vines into the front door around 2015 to assess the property, he was amazed at how much seemed intact, until he realized the many structural challenges that lay ahead, including an unstable foundation, a leaking roof, and rotting wood. Still, the core remained surprisingly solid. In November 2016, aided by the Lowcountry Conservation Loan Fund, EIOLT purchased the property from Myrtle’s son, Steve Esteves, and later bought an adjacent 10-acre parcel that had also belonged to Myrtle’s grandfather, Henry Hutchinson.

The restoration process continues to be intensive and comprehensive. In addition to funding from EIOLT, the Lowcountry Conservation Loan Fund, and other generous donors, Hutchinson House was recently the recipient of a Mellon Grant to assist with the costs of restoration and community outreach.

Financial resources remain a priority for restoration, including replacing the roof with silver-toned

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copper, the cost of which will exceed $100,000. That restoration is expected to be completed in 2024.

John points out the original piers, saying, “At this point, it’s just been first-phase massively stabilized, which means that all the siding was removed.

This is all new siding, and all the framework of the exterior has been sistered with the original wood — underneath are the original timbers. There’s so much original material, still, it’s fantastic. There are handhewn beams from the 1880s that still have the bark on them.”

In contrast to Jim’s previous cramped, low-light living quarters, the Hutchinson House boasts several points of entry and is flooded with light from periodglass windows and upstairs dormers. John imagines the view from another era.

“Through these windows then, those trees would not have been there,” he says “From bridge to beach, the land was scraped almost bare because plantation owners wanted as much land as they could. There is a wonderful marsh area, they used the pluff mud, they used the creek, so that’s what people would have seen — a beautiful marsh and a creek.”

He looks to the future of the museum when the historic home is refinished, a costly but worthwhile endeavor.

“The interior rooms will be fully restored — it’s going to look like it did, the best we can, when they first built the house,” he says “That’s the most expensive way to go, but the family agrees, and the family is a huge part of this.”

John explains that all EIOLT and the Hutchinson descendants are still discussing ways to interpret the house for visitors, including audio experiences of its history, as well as period sounds of the household, such as music, entertainment, and conversations.

“With the aid of the Mellon Grant, our goal over the next two years is to attract people of all ages and races that don’t necessarily understand, know, or appreciate this history,” John says. “But we also are right in the heart of the African American settlement communities on Edisto, and with Denzel’s and others’ help, we need this community to be a part of this project, to lift up their family heritage, their stories, all of that history.”

Denzel reflects on the following quote from writer Chinua Achebe to emphasize the importance of appreciating the authentic past for the family, the trust and for others who want to discover and celebrate their histories.

“Until the lions have their own historians, the history of the hunt will always glorify the hunter,” he shares. “A lot of African Americans don’t really know their story, so it’s not only important to discover those stories, but to tell people this is what we’re finding from your history.

“I think it’s important to tell not only my story, but the story that could inspire other people to find their own.”

For museum information or to donate, contact: EIOLT, P.O. Box 1, Edisto Island, SC 29438, or contact the staff at Info@edisto.org.

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ith a drive to succeed and a knowledge of the land, Henry Hutchinson built a house and a lasting heritage for his family on Edisto Island. His efforts are being honored with the restoration of the home, circa 1885. Henry was the son of Jim Hutchinson, a “Black King of Edisto,” and grew Sea Island cotton, made more valuable by its silky texture.

Opposite: Henry built the home with windows throughout to draw in natural light and balmy breezes.

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MEMORIES FROM YESTERYEAR Before the Hutchinson House fell into disrepair, Patty Bailey remembers long-ago summers at the Hutchinson family home with her antecedents. Now 75, Patty’s recollections of experiences bring with it a soulwarming sense of home.

I came down in summer as a little girl, and always knew I was coming to someplace special. My grandfather lived there, Arthur Hutchinson, who was the son of Henry Hutchinson. I remember riding our horse to the mailbox, and it felt like I could be riding to New York City.

We fed off the land. I remember going to the creek and getting crabs. If we wanted fish, my grandmother would fry them up that day. We had corn, watermelon, green beans, and chickens. I watched my great aunt snap those chickens’ necks.

I thought I wanted to leave. But I had everything there.

The house was nice inside.

In the family room, there were the fireplaces, and that’s where my great aunts would stay.

Upstairs, the breeze was the balm and fed into both the kids’ rooms. There was such a sweet smell in the air! I can’t smell that anymore, how it used to smell.

It was so tranquil. I loved to lay down on the creaky swing.

I would watch the birds, the butterflies, the flowers. The house was magnificent to me. I could hide in there. And those trees, peaches and figs ... and the watermelon, and playing in the cornfield!

My great-grandfather saw a vision, land, and he built a house for himself and his wife.

My grandmother’s sister loved her grandmother, Rose. At 88 years, she finally got to put a rose on Rose’s grave.

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urture and Nature: “Leaf it to” James Farmer to come up with the most glorious blooms for the garden and a hospitality-laden table. From an early age, the interior designer, landscaper and bestselling author was encouraged to pursue his talents. Opposite: The dining room at James’ Perry, Georgia, home, Farmdale Cottage, sets a welcoming scene for guests. Photos by Emily Followill Photography

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PLANTING THE SEEDS OF INSPIRATION: THE CULTIVATED DESIGNS OF JAMES FARMER Story by Cara Clark In a recent sold-out speaking engagement, James Farmer postulates there’s a certain … ahem … eccentricity among Southern women that can be attributed to the frequent and liberal use of silver polish, a wry statement that was greeted with laughter and a few blushes of acknowledgment.

With an intuitive sense of style that goes bone deep, James has always known interior design and landscaping would be his career. Now a bestselling author of multiple books, at 11 years old, James began offering his flower arrangements door-to-door in his hometown of Perry, Georgia, where he has built his business.

The bouquets he arranged were products of

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a prodigy, who intuitively knew which blossoms and greenery to blend as well as he knew which plaids and solids would pair to create a timeless traditional interior, a trade that has brought fame, acclaim, and fulfillment.

“I grew up learning to set a table and make flower arrangements, and my family was very keen to encourage that,” James says. “I think that was a gift from them.”

His most profound influence was his maternal grandmother, who inherited beautiful pieces from an aunt, combining those decorative elements with her own in an effortless aplomb James wanted to emulate. It was an ability to make gatherings special, no matter what the occasion, that made a strong impression on him during his formative years.

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“She always used her silver and her china and the beautiful things she had,” James says of the woman he called Mimi. “It was a tactile reminder of people who have gone before us and felt like having those generations there at the table. It was very traditional and welcoming and comforting.”

Seeing his grandmother’s ability to draw people together in a beautiful setting and the impact it had on family and friends, James naturally just knew what worked and what didn’t.

“I was rearranging the living room as a kid and setting tables by myself,” James says. “My mother was resigned to the fact that I was going to take over. I started my first business when I was 11 or 12, ‘Leaf it to Me,’ and I would do flower arrangements or potted compositions.”

He planted his own garden around that same time and would cut things from the woods or side of the road — something he does to this day — and put together an array of disparate elements that were transformed into a new and lovely whole to elevate a room or occasion.

His early talent and insights were often met with astonishment and a touch of amusement.

“I think there was definitely some humor with it because these people were completely capable of planting their own geraniums, yet here’s this preteen showing up with red geraniums and telling them, ‘You should paint your door navy.’

“People listened to me, and I think if you say something confidently enough, they believe that is the truth.”

James isn’t one to lack confidence, and his witty insights into clients and the Southern culture have amused many a reader, client, and audience as he shares anecdotes and opinions with savoir faire. But the key to his success, he might say, is the strong work ethic that launched him to start that early, cleverly named floral design business.

“I’ve always been a worker bee and entrepreneur,” James says. ‘ A third-generation graduate of Auburn University, he has many clients in the area — some of whom he helped while in school and continues to design for them. One Auburn client, now 90, whose home he redesigned 20 years ago as a student has just asked for a complete refresh, a project he likely will feature in a future book.

“I was planting mums and setting out pumpkins on her front steps and then 20 years later I’m redoing her house, and it’s

F

illed with charming elements, the garden at Farmdale Cottage includes quintessential Southern favorites including ferns, caladiums, and crepe myrtle trees. Photos by Emily Followill Photography

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just fun to think about that,” James says.

“I’ve had that relationship that long. I love repeat clients, whether it’s doing their home again or getting to do their second home on the beach, river, lake or in the mountains. Those are always fun projects.”

James, who has a second home in Cashiers, North Carolina, has clients throughout the nation, but his connection to his craft is the same as that he felt early on.

“To this day, I’m still rearranging people’s living rooms,” he says with trademark humor. “I just get to charge more for it now.”

And while his rates might have changed, his sense of style remains rooted in tradition with no room for flyby-night trends.

“I love plaids and florals and a touch of animal print, and I love antiques,” James says. “I still gravitate towards the same traditional feel today as I did then.”

Some homeowners might feel frustrated at an inability to choose the pieces that make them feel at home, but James knows how to create that warm and welcoming ambiance and to pop a medley of plates on a wall in artful order like a Ninja with throwing stars.

“I think it’s a lot like hiring an accountant,” James says. “There’s a reason you can’t do your own taxes, and there’s a reason you shouldn’t do your own taxes. There’s so much more involved in interior design than just floral on plaid or fabrics you like. I say it’s a human science. If you can’t decide what color to paint your living room, it’s almost like analysis paralysis. If someone has reached out to me, it’s because they want an aesthetic reflection of what we accomplish for our clients. So I recognize that as one of my professors at Auburn said, it’s 1% talent; it’s 9% creativity; and it’s 90% logistics and psychology. I approach it that way.”

If a client has reached out for his guidance, James isn’t going to throw mid-century modern ideas at them. He’s going to give them the traditional ideas for which he is known.

“I respect that and try to bring them something that they would not have thought of themselves,” he says. “I just don’t like to embrace trends or anything that’s a fad or something that’s not authentic.”

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James is firm in his view that you don’t have to own museum-quality art and accents, but neither do you need to buy prints. It’s important to choose art that’s appealing. That doesn’t have to mean it’s terribly expensive, but it should be original. Affordable, original works can be found among young, emerging artists or at art shows and festivals.

“I’m always going to steer clear of a trend or a fad,” James says. “I always think you can go to England and tour a beautiful old home and garden, and you’re gonna see hardwood floors and an Aubusson rug or Oriental carpet or beautiful paintings. It may be more opulent than what you do, but it’s the same formula. I just stick with tradition, and it works.”

He attributes that strong sensibility to the encouragement he received when he was young and expressing interest in design.

“I was nurtured as a child,” James says. “I was not told not to draw or not to sketch or not to throw out ideas or work in the garden. I was more encouraged. And I think that took root.”

While he’s firmly set on tradition, he’s equally determined to be flexible and keep an open eye and mind when considering design.

“I don’t do the same thing every time — I’m

traditional, but rules can be broken,” James says.

He’s been known to break a few of those rules in straying onto private property to humanely prune a hydrangea and use those blooms for the greater good. And his approach to a table setting is always seen with a fresh eye.

“I think no two tables are the same,” he says.

“If it’s a round table, you may need a round centerpiece or small centerpieces. Or if it’s a long rectangular table, you’d have three or four smaller marching down the table.”

“There’s a misconception that there’s a formula for everything. And I guess you could break it down for that,” he continues.

“But honestly, I’m gonna go back to what my grandmother told me — that the best dish that a host or hostess can serve is confidence. So, if you just have a bowl of lemons on your table, that’s lovely, and you confidently brought someone over. You’re feeding someone. It’s about fellowship. Forget all the secrets and the howtos. Serve something confidently, even if it’s Domino’s Pizza and you use your great aunt’s wedding china. It’s about being together. If by telling people that, I can remove the stigma that makes people work so hard to entertain, I’ve helped.”

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he designer’s second home, Joe Pye Cottage in Cashiers, North Carolina, celebrates blue hues and green accents, bringing in natural elements with fern artwork and a Granny Smith apple and pine cone arrangement. Opposite: Farmdale Cottage in Perry, Georgia, reflects the traditional style for which James is known. Photos by Emily Followill Photography

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O

n the Etowah River in Georgia, veterans enjoy guided fly fishing trips, working their expertly tied lures and enjoying a sojourn in the outdoors.

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FLY FISHING BRINGS HEALING WATERS AND TROUT FISHING TRANQUILITY TO VETERANS Story and photos by John N. Felsher Water cascading down from the mountains frothed white as it topped numerous stones in the river, contrasting with the shadows created by the overhanging trees of the forest. The powerful current made even the most experienced and fit sportsmen move with caution when wading in the swift stream.

During a recent outing, a gentleman in his 90s sat in a wheelchair waiting patiently while two younger men standing in the water prepared a small raft made of two inflatable pontoons and helped him onto a floating chair attached to the metal frame on a plywood deck between the pontoons. With the angler settled, someone guided the raft deeper into the river, allowing him to cast his fly rod. The veteran could no longer walk, but once marched and fought in Korea during the war more than 70 years ago.

Comprised primarily of fellow veterans, Veterans Fly fishing, Inc., has been taking other veterans fishing for fellowship and healing since 2012. Those who fight in a war often suffer

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physical injuries, but the most insidious wounds cannot be seen. Many people carry mental wounds for life.

“We bring veterans out to fish,” says Dr. John Mauldin, president of Veterans Fly fishing, an Army Vietnam War veteran and a psychologist.

“It’s amazing to watch how people arrive tentative and anxious. Many never touched a fly rod before.

By the end of the day, they are all grinning and showing everyone else photos of their fish.”

Twice a month, the owners of the Montaluce Winery in Dahlonega, Georgia, allow the organization to bring veterans to fish on a private stretch of the Etowah River. The organization pairs each veteran with a guide, most of whom are veterans themselves. After fishing all morning, everyone gathers for lunch on the winery grounds.

“We bring veterans out here to let them enjoy the outdoors, being around other veterans and catching fish, but it’s really not about the fishing,” John says. “It’s about accepting those veterans so they relax. It’s very much a healing process. Some people told us that they were thinking about doing

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bad things, but their time here helped them get through that difficult time. It’s not group therapy, but it is therapeutic.”

The veterans pay nothing for the experience, but each one has sacrificed to serve his or her country. Sponsors, such as Cabela’s, provide waders, fly rods, and other equipment.

Participants are not only combat veterans. Any active-duty person or veteran can participate.

Whether a veteran served on foreign soil or in the United States, they can bond better with others over shared experiences, no matter the branch of the military. Regardless of a veteran’s fishing experience, guides pair with each guest for a one-on-one experience. Some individuals who first participated as guests with little or no fishing knowledge have gained the skill to guide others.

“We teach them the sport we all love so much,” says Kyle Cone, an Iraq War Marine Corps veteran who now guides for Bowman Fly Fishing and others. “If someone signed up to put their lives on the line for the country, willing to make the ultimate sacrifice, this is the least we can do to pay them back for their service. We have seen this program work wonders.”

The Etowah River rises northwest of Dahlonega and flows 164 miles through northern Georgia. The state periodically stocks trout in the river, but it also holds wild trout naturally spawned in the stream. Current flowing over rocks and riffles produces abundant dissolved oxygen in the water, allowing trout to breathe and giving them ample cover.

“The Etowah River has some big rainbow trout,” Kyle advises. “It’s fly fishing only, all catch-and-release with barbless hooks, in this section of the river. One of my clients caught a 28-inch rainbow. It probably weighed about six pounds. The river has great habitat, abundant food, and a good variety of foods for trout to eat.”

Amicalola Creek, another healthy trout stream, flows into the Etowah. The state heavily stocks parts of this stream. Some sections

only permit catch-and-release for trout so fish can grow to trophy sizes. The creek flows over Amicalola Falls in the state park that bears its name in Dawsonville.

“Amicalola Falls cascades 729 feet,” explains Lori VanSickle, director of sales and marketing for Amicalola Falls State Park. “It’s the highest waterfall in Georgia and one of the Seven Natural Wonders of Georgia. At the bottom of the waterfall is a reflection pond stocked with trout. People can go right up to it so it has easy access even for people with mobility issues. The park is one of the most visited in Georgia.”

Within a reasonable drive from Dawsonville, anglers can find multiple trout streams.

Numerous streams in the Chattahoochee National Forest produce wild rainbows, browns, and a few brook trout at higher elevations. The Soque River, a tributary of the Chattahoochee River, produces some very large trout.

“The best fishing on the Amicalola is downstream from the park at the Highway 53 bridge,” reports Daniel Bowman with Bowman Fly Fishing. “That area has good public access. Cooper’s Creek is a great creek close to Dawsonville. The state does a lot of stocking of rainbows and browns, but it has a lot of natural reproduction. Rock Creek is another one with a federal fish hatchery on it. Cooper’s Creek and Rock Creek flow into the Toccoa River. Wildcat Creek near Big Canoe is another good stream stocked with rainbow trout.”

Area visitors can choose to stay in the state park lodge only eight miles from the Appalachian Trail. The hotel-like lodge offers a full-service restaurant with a great view of the mountains, conference rooms, and other amenities. Visitors can also rent cabins or camp, including five “glamping” sites. The park also offers a zipline experience and tomahawk throwing.

For more information on Veterans Fly fishing or to make a donation, see veteransflyfishing.org or call 706-402-3525.

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INTO THE VALLEY OF DEATH: LSU FANS WELCOME FRIENDS AND RIVALS TO TAILGATE Story by Cara Clark Photos courtesy of Mary Dixon and Revelry Again and again, Louisiana State University’s Tiger Stadium has been ranked as one of the best stadiums in the country — LSU being known for high decibel fans whose shouts have registered on the Richter scale on more than one occasion.

It’s that level of fan energy and intensity that earned the stadium the moniker “Death Valley,” a place that makes it difficult for visiting teams to stand their ground amidst the revelry. Even legendary Crimson Tide Coach Bear Bryant is quoted as saying “Baton Rouge happens to be the worst place in the world for a visiting team. It’s like being inside a drum.”

Longtime LSU tailgaters Mary and Jay Dixon anticipate the fall festivities from the time the last game is played until the new season kicks off each year and it’s time for the LSU lagniappe.

“It’s a Baton Rouge thing,” Mary says. “It’s being part of the community, and that’s what makes it great. Some people don’t even have tickets for the game, but they come to the tailgate because it’s about getting together and feeling the spirit.”

Mary, who works in human resources, and Jay, who owns Coretechs, an IT support and security company, have what they call a Brady Brunch family with each coming to the marriage with two children.

Tailgating brings together family and friends of all ages donning the royal purple and gold or tigerthemed gear to show their support.

“This is a beautiful campus — a lot of fun with extracurriculars and a good educational school,” Jay says. “I really enjoyed it.”

The Dixons relationship with LSU started early — both took part in high school summer programs at LSU, a preamble to real college life that introduced them to the campus and culture. Set in the heart of Louisiana, tailgates naturally lean toward a Cajun influence with jambalaya, boudin, étouffée, and even cracklins, a variation on pork skins.

“I always tell people to bring finger foods of things that are easily served,” says Mary, who’s known for her fried rice. “It’s nice to have things to graze on

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M

ary and Jay Dixon, devoted Tiger fans, have an open-tent policy for tailgating, whether it’s fellow fans or opponents seeking snacks and a refreshing beverage. The couple has become known in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, for their hospitality. while you talk to friends — something that you can hold in your hand or put in a bowl. It’s a big variety.

And it seems like someone always shows up with a pack of Oreos.”

In the winter, a bowl of gumbo hits the spot.

Jambalaya is another go-to favorite. They serve up meat pies, crawfish pies, wings, and meatballs.

Beautiful charcuterie boards, brought in by a friend from Houston, are always a “fan” favorite. Purple and gold Jell-O shots are mandatory.

“Tailgate starts early — no matter what time the game starts,” Jay says. “If it’s an early game, mimosas are a must, but we also have rum, bourbon … everything. Night games are really cool. With the way the stadium is situated, the only thing you can see outside is the Batan Rouge skyline, punctuated by the legendary state capital and bridge. Everyone in the stadium becomes one body in Death Valley.”

For years, the Dixons first put all the elbow grease into setting up themselves with friends pitching in with potluck before turning to specialists at Revelry, a full-service tailgate set-up company with locations in many SEC cities. In recent years, the Dixons have opted for the company’s couches, big screens and tents, lessening the work and allowing them to spread even more of the warm hospitality that Tiger fans extend — not just to their fellow purple and gold population but to opposing teams’ fans, too.

“Friends can easily find us in the white tent city,

and we love all the people around us,” Mary says.

“We make friends with strangers. If somebody is wandering around, we’ll offer them a drink. We may have 100 people come through our tent in a day. We’ve made so many friends this way. We can be at a Saints or Pelicans game, and people will say, ‘Hey. It’s Jay and Mary.’”

The couple has a friend from Colorado who plans his visits to Louisiana around the dates for the tailgate. Another from Boston made sure to be in Baton Rouge for the LSU-Tennessee game.

Mary has a clever strategy for set up and circulation when she plans the tailgate.

“Everything has its spot,” she says. “You have the alcohol in one place and hot food in another. You have labels on every ice chest — one for beer, one for water, one for kids with Capri Sun and soft drinks.

You want to have a flow to get people moving and talking to avoid hovering too much in one place. And you don’t want to hang out under the tent too long.

You want everyone to get out and greet people.”

Mary says one of her objectives is to have no leftovers when the party ends — and that means making new friends and welcoming them in with open arms.

“If we see visiting team fans who don’t have a place to go, we invite them in,” Mary says. “It’s a rivalry, but LSU fans are warm and welcoming. It’s just part of our culture and spirit at Tiger Stadium.”

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Replacements Limited

COLLECTORS TURN TO EXPERT CURATION COMPANY Story by Jennifer Kornegay Many people look at the colorful images, patterns, shapes, and the cut and sculpted detailing of crystal, sterling silver, and fine china and see functional works of art. Others see artifacts, too, tangible testaments that speak of lives lived and times gone by.

For them, the aesthetic value of these eating and drinking accouterments pales beside the affection they inspire, not because of what they are, but what they represent: the memories of special occasions around a table and the corresponding emotions these recollections evoke. An Old Master sterling fork, embellished with elaborate, elegant scrollwork, beautifully, and easily transports a bite of cake to a waiting mouth. Yet it just effectively facilitates time travel, whisking someone away to another place in their past, elevating it above useful tool to treasured heirloom. And when a treasure is lost —or someone simply wants more — finding it becomes a quest.

Tableware treasure hunters have a valuable resource in North Carolina-based Replacements, Limited. The company is the world’s largest seller of new and vintage china and dinnerware, crystal and glassware, and silver and flatware, including perennially popular picks like Spode’s Christmas Tree plates and Gorham’s Chantilly silver, as well as multiple discontinued and hard-to-find patterns.

Today, the company is a well-known go-to for

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Photos Courtesy of Replacements LTD

filling in and fleshing out sets of tableware, but it all began 42 years ago with owner and founder Bob Page’s personal passion. In the late 1970s, Page’s weekday nine-to-five hours were filled with the tasks required by his role as auditor for the State of North Carolina, a job he detested.

He lived for the weekends, when he’d search antique stores, comb through booths at flea markets, and scope out yard sales for additions to his vintage tableware collection. Often, he’d buy pieces he liked but would decide not to keep, so he’d resell them to others. Soon, word got out about his prowess in scoring pretty and sometimes, rare, items.

“People started asking him to help find the patterns or pieces they were looking for, so he’d put their names and what they were after on index cards,” says Keith Winkler, Replacements’ marketing and media relations manager. The pastime quickly grew beyond the boundaries of “hobby,” and in 1981, Bob founded Replacements and made it his new full-time career.

“He just decided to make a go of it, and it worked,” Keith says.

In the first year, sales hit $150,000. By 1985, the index cards were replaced by computers, and sales rose to $4 million. While Bob still brings in some items himself, taking shopping trips and scouring the country much the way he did on his weekend jaunts, Replacements sources pieces a few other ways, too. One avenue is a network of

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450 individual suppliers, folks who also do it Bob’s way, sifting through shelves and stacks at estate sales, antique stores, and more to find the pieces Replacements — and Replacements’ customers — seek.

“We call them our star suppliers, and they are a huge asset,” Keith says. “We have a list of what we are willing to pay for certain items, and if they find them, and the price they have to pay still makes them money, they’ll buy them and sell them to us.”

Replacements buys from other individuals who are not regular suppliers but might be downsizing or getting rid of their china or silver when the original shine they took to a pattern has faded.

“For whatever reason, they don’t use or don’t want these items anymore, so they’ll sell them to us,” Keith says.

Replacements purchases items directly from the manufacturers, too. Over the decades, the company has forged relationships with brands like Lenox, Spode, and Portmeirion, whose 51-year-old pattern Botanic Garden just took the top-selling spot at Replacements, due in part to the two companies working closely together to offer pieces that before, were not easily accessible.

“The company also recently made a few pieces just for us that were previously unavailable,” Keith says. “Spode has done this, too, making its Christmas Tree pattern with red trim exclusively for Replacements.”

Replacements’ ties with these brands are so strong, the company sometimes requests remakes.

“If there is enough demand for a pattern, maybe even one discontinued 25 years ago, we’ll ask the company if they’ll make more,” Keith says. “If they still have the needed artwork to recreate it, they usually will.”

When remaking a retired pattern is not possible, Replacements customers shouldn’t lose heart. The company is committed to searching for that special plate or serving spoon through

its “find this for me” service on its website where customers can ask Replacements to look for items it doesn’t currently have in stock.

“It’s what we do, and we will search for years,” Keith says.

Replacements also offers repair and restoration services, from reshaping a piece of silver damaged in a garbage disposal to replacing knife blades and even crystal grinding to fix chips on a glass’ rim or base. Keith praises the team responsible.

“They are masters and can do so many things,” he says.

All of its sourcing efforts combined keep Replacements’ 500,000-square-foot warehouse full, and sending these pieces back into the world to be used, admired, and loved fills the hearts of Replacements’ 375 employees, including Keith.

“We are reconnecting people to beloved pieces and patterns, but it is so much more than finding and selling a plate,” he says.

He points to customer stories that flood the company’s phone lines and inboxes with sentiment.

“We hear about the husband who gifted his wife a set of collectible Waterford glasses every year, and then he died, but the wife was able to buy the last one from us and complete the set,” he says.

Or the woman reminiscing about her parents’ wedding sliver, Royal Danish, prompted by a photo of it posted in Replacements’ social media.

In a comment, she recalls how her immigrant grandparents scrimped and saved to buy it for their only daughter and how her mother cherished it and used it often.

“She said there are a million happy memories embedded in that silver, and whenever she sees it, she sees the faces of family now gone but who once broke bread with her,” Keith says. “We hear so many stories like that constantly; we know what we do is meaningful and beyond being a business; it touches people.”

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A CULTURE OF CARE Replacements is a successful business, but the bottom line isn’t the only thing its owner, management and employees care about. Their devotion to preserving beloved tableware patterns, keeping them — as well as the traditions and connections they symbolize — available for new generations to enjoy, is evident in the company’s mission. But a similar sentiment is at play inside the office. Since the mid-1990s, Replacements employees have brought their pets to work if they wish, starting with owner and founder Bob Page, who wasn’t willing to leave his dachshund behind every day.

Bob brought his little buddy to work and quickly extended the same option to all his employees.

Customers and guests are welcome to bring their pets to Replacements too, and Replacements has received national and international media attention for being one of the most pet-friendly companies in the country.

Replacements’ marketing and media relations manager Keith Winkler brings his rescue dog Phoebe to work and laughs off the risk of allowing animals in a building packed with breakables. “They bring such a positive energy, and we’ve had accidents due to humans, but we’ve never had a pet break a thing,” he says.

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INTO THE MYSTIC: A HALLOWEEN STORY Story by Kat Privett-Duren Every year, I grow Seminole pumpkins. These bell-shaped, dusty-colored beauties are more native than other varieties, resistant to borers, and tend to vine far into the trees. On October 31st, I roast them for pumpkin soup, a comforting concoction that we top with roasted seeds, pecans, and crumbled bacon.

It’s a wondrous table, shimmering with candles and autumnal leaves, toasted garlic bread and goblets of mulled wine. Yet, even while it perhaps should be so, the Seminole is not my favorite pumpkin.

Although it’s hard to remember now, I fell in love with Halloween as a very small child because of a pie pumpkin. It sat on the kitchen table all month, mystical in its solitary presence and wholly out of

place without any holiday accoutrement. My fingers longed to poke at it, to turn its shape against my teeth, but it was unreachable. Such a state only increased my longing and thorough adoration. Then one day, it was quite unceremoniously plopped upon a butcher block and stabbed, its stringy innards scooped into the trash, and all that had been fine and good in the world came crashing down. I remember the earthy smell wafting in the air as I wailed myself to near distraction under that table.

They had murdered my alien friend, and there was no justice to be had for a kindergartner. Looking back, I suppose it’s fitting that the night started off with a smidge of horror.

And then: someone turned off the lights and beckoned me to just look. There, glowing and

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smiling at me from a kitchen in 1971, was something much more.

Triangular eyes flickered promises of all the adventures to come — and I was hooked. The rest is just a blur: a sharp-edged mask, a plastic pumpkin, a polyester cat suit, all coalescing into a fevered feast of chocolate. It was, and will forever be, the most magical memory of my childhood. I knew then (the way that we do sometimes) that the wonder of that experience would never fade into the ether of adulthood. But then, I grew up.

Life whisks us far from imagination, turns our hair gray, and never lets us get too close to Neverland. After all, we might ditch our bills, aching backs, and 401k’s to fly away at Halloween, and who would remain? There was no choice, I told myself. I became responsible, worked hard, had my first child, and was quite unprepared to ever feel that free again. Nevertheless, children have the propensity to enchant even the most pragmatic of plans.

Mischievous lot, all of them.

It has always been my contention that one of the true perks of parenthood is that you get to relive the good bits. And so, I wasted no time: every October 1st, we ventured to a local pumpkin patch. We snuggled against strangers upon prickly bales, blithely trusting the tractor to pull us to the safety of hot chocolate and the lights of town. Yet, nothing compared to the grand opus: the choosing of the “great pumpkin.” While other pumpkins were picked to decorate every corner of our home (the knotty ones, the gray ones, the Cinderella ones), it was the hefty, girthy, perfectly-orange one that mattered the most. Herein was the stuff of dreams, and my children instinctively knew that it should sit upon its throne (the kitchen table) until coronation night.

As the leaves began to turn, we held our breath in anticipation.

Sweaters and jackets broke free of their storage containers to steady themselves for the sticky remnants of roasted marshmallows and the scent of backyard campfires. As was tradition, the struggle to decide upon a costume began immediately —doomed to shift toward a completely different direction the exact moment anything was

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purchased —culminating in tears, acceptance, and rekindled joy on the morning of October 31st. And then, just before jumping into the car for the longest ride, it began.

My brood was never traumatized by the carving of our Jack-O’lantern. The guts were “cool,” especially since they bore along their tendrils those nutty treasures that would be roasted in garlic and salt. The memory of the knife sliding into pumpkin flesh, turning and twisting into triangles, still holds within it the smell of fall and late afternoon sun. I can remember regaling the boys with tales of ancient Ireland and the turnips that were traditional on this eve, arguing for a bit of history against their adamant cries of heresy. A turnip could never be this profoundly delicious, nor as legendary, according to my deeply Southern sons. And then, when all was done, the candle was slipped into a bit of tin foil and placed inside our Halloween mascot. There it would sit, unlit, until much later.

Of course, there were protests. But alas, amidst the stomp of stinky boy feet, I held firm. After all, there were journeys to be made. Forlorn faces necessitated the application of waxy makeup, and time was of the essence.

Trick-or-treat was always prefaced by warm-up stretches and Gatorade. We traversed miles of suburbia, marveling at the lights and the costumes of baby goblins and princesses, sprinting between each house in the cool, dark air while breathlessly holding onto bags, hats, swords, and sweaty hands. When feet were finally sore and porch lights began to dim, the car ride home became an auction block for trades, furious negotiations, and the occasional reminder to not open that until we get home. I lost that bid many times.

And then, they would remember what awaited them.

As we furiously stormed the front door, capes and candy and fake vampire teeth flying in our wake, I suddenly remembered everything. It was 1970-something, and October was everywhere. My fingers became small as they struck the match, reaching for the Saturnalia of a simple orange pumpkin aglow in an otherwise ordinary room. And there we sat, sugary treasures forgotten on the tile, for some time. That revelry, we all knew, would come later. But Halloween would only be now, destined to slip along a faded memory like so many falling stars in the decades to come.

It occurs to me, looking back, that we crowned many a Pumpkin King, but never once felt the blister of November in his wake. Somehow, the fires of the last harvest kept my boys warm, cradling their hearts as the season waned and heralded our friend, Jack Frost. October would come again, they knew, dressed in the colors of years gone by. They counted on it, saving their costumes and bedraggled plastic pumpkin buckets like so many trophies of expeditions into the land of Nod. But then, they grew up.

And though they may now have the hint of wrinkles along their brows, there is an antidote to this thing called “adulthood.” It twinkles there in the eyes of a toddler, the only child of a boy who loved Halloween. I hope he is prepared. Children have a way of dragging you back to Neverland.

This year, my youngest son is preparing to take my grandchild for her first trick-or-treat. I’m hoping that my old legs can carry me back in time, for I plan to follow her into the mystic as she flits from house to house on those tiny feet. She will laugh with abandon, believing for just one night that all creatures are wild and sweet, that monsters eat caramel apples, and that grandmas can slay dragons. At some point, she will run toward a lit pumpkin on a country porch, her hair lifting against the whisper of winter, her eyes on fire with the magic of it all.

And somewhere along the way, the little girl inside of me will run, too.

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Frightful & Delightful HALLOWEEN TREATS ADD FLAVOR TO SEASONAL FUN

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njoy the season by decorating your home with festive Halloween decor. Be sure to include Mollie Jenkins Ghost Pottery, as pictured above, along with pumpkins and flower arrangements. Don’t forget the candy for your ghoulish guests. Photos by Morgan Duke. Styling by Amy Massey.

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orting the candy loot after Halloween night is a tried-andtrue tradition. Bobbing for apples is another seasonal favorite.

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ackaged candy is fun for trick-or-treating, but the real treat is homemade fudge.

Taking the time to make a batch and teach a new generation the secret creates special fall memories. Pictured: Amy Massey teaches a treasured recipe to her daughters.

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Nell’s Fudge 4 cups sugar 1 can evaporated milk 2 tbsp butter Pinch of salt 1 package chocolate chips 16 ounces German chocolate, chopped 1 7 oz container marshmallow cream 1 tsp vanilla 2 cups pecans, chopped (optional) Combine sugar, evaporated milk, butter and salt in a skillet. Stir constantly until mixture boils then turn down to a slow boil and stir for 6 minutes. After 6 minutes, turn off and add remaining ingredients.

Stir until fully combined and pour immediately into a buttered 9x13 dish. Allow to fully set. www.MagnoliaandMoonshine.com

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SECRETS OF SPLINTER HILL BOG: A CARNIVOROUS PLANT HIDEAWAY Story by Mary Dansak Millions of people head to Alabama’s beaches along I-65 every year, speeding along at 75 miles per hour, eager to put their toes on those sugar white sands and bask in the generous sun.

Unbeknownst to many, they are racing past a hidden gem, a tract of longleaf and bog habitat that is home to more flowering plants than any other place in this country, from delicate orange-fringed orchids to the extremely rare Pot-of-Gold Lily. A quick detour is all it takes to soak in a spectacular landscape of carnivorous plants, longleaf pines, and a bounty of other native, sometimes rare, attractions.

This gem is Splinter Hill Bog, easily accessible and a wonder to behold.

The Ruth McClellan Abronski Splinter Hill Bog

Preserve is a 627-acre tract of land owned by the Forever Wild Land Trust and the Alabama section of The Nature Conservancy. In other words, as a public land, it belongs to everyone.

Splinter Hill Bog is home to seven ecosystems, from its most dry, the sandhills, to streamside swamps to its crowning jewel, the bog. Bogs, fragile ecosystems threatened by human activity, are paradoxically created by fire and water. Initially sparked by lightning, fire prevents these watery savannahs from becoming dense forests, while nourishing the wet, acidic soil by returning valuable nutrients directly to the earth. Taking their cue from nature, Native Americans practiced “cultural burning,” sustaining the preservation of the longleaf habitat. In the early 1800s, longleaf forests covered roughly 90 million acres in the Southeast. Today,

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due to deforestation, fire suppression, grazing, and other development, only 3% of our once vast longleaf forests remain.

How did this precious patch, Splinter Hill Bog, survive? According to Ben Raines, award-winning environmental journalist and author, this area was spared by a handful of rebels, “old timers,” who understood the need for fire to preserve the land.

They covertly burned the area, which did not belong to them, to promote the growth of pitcher plants which they sold to nurseries. Thanks to this small band of ecological outlaws, we can enjoy the same ecosystem that our great-great grandparents knew.”

To visit Splinter Hill Bog, take exit 47 off I-65, turn west on Co. Rd. 47, and you’ll see the parking lot on the left in 1.8 miles. Visitors are immediately greeted with a sign paying tribute to the late Dr. George Folkerts, Auburn University, whose interest and passion in protecting declining habitats, was instrumental in preserving the bog. The three-mile George W. Folkerts Bog Trail takes you through one of the most visually stunning displays of whitetopped pitcher plants in the world, peaking between mid-March and June, but beautiful year-round.

At home in nutrient-poor bogs, white-topped pitcher plants have adapted to supplement photosynthesis with nutrients from animals. These outrageously showy carnivorous plants burst forth from the bog, outer leaves spread wide like flared flutes, all the better to attract insects and other small animals who then fall into the plant’s cylindrical stalk and drown in a gooey pool of digestive enzymes within. They are not alone. In total, 12 species of carnivorous plants can be found in Splinter Hill Bog, including more pitcher plants, butterworts, and sundews.

While the carnivorous plants are Splinter Hill Bog’s main attraction for most visitors, other flora abound. Botanists estimate that up to 200 species of plants are found in this bio diverse treasure trove.

Dr. Folkerts identified 60 species of plants in a 3-square-foot patch of land in a similar bog nearby, one of the world’s highest plant-dense populations recorded.

Animal enthusiasts will appreciate Splinter Hill Bog as well. An established stop on the Alabama Birding Trail, resident bird species found here include Indigo Bunting, American Kestrel, Bachman’s Sparrow, and Brown-Headed Nuthatch. Lucky nature lovers might stumble upon a gopher tortoise, a keystone species in the longleaf ecosystem, or a rare Florida pine snake. Watch your step, as Eastern cottonmouths also enjoy the small streams in the area.

The Splinter Hill Bog Preserve is open yearround, dawn to dusk, closed only for prescribed burns which take place about every two years.

In the words of Woody Guthrie, “This land is your land, this land is my land.” What better fortune than to have this incredible wonderland in our midst.

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Standouts in the Field

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DREAM TEAM: PUTTING IN THE TIME CREATES TRUE ‘WORKING DOG’ Story by Adam Burton Photos by Eliza Daffin The stage is set. The sun is just beginning to stream through the clouds. Handlers and dogs await their turn in the blind.

It’s time.

The hunter steps up in front of the judges, takes his seat in a chair, and prepares for the hunt. A well-trained, approximately 2-year-old Labrador retriever waits in anticipation. He knows why he’s there. He’s excited but not nervous. Neither is the hunter. They’ve done this a hundred times before.

A duck flies across the sky. The hunter takes his shot and the duck falls. The dog watches his hunter’s gun barrel scanning the sky for the next shot.

Second duck. Third duck.

Now the dog gets his chance to shine. With one cue from his handler, he begins to retrieve each of the ducks. But before he gets to his final duck, a blind is placed. It’s a duck the dog never saw shot down, but it’s still his responsibility to retrieve it.

The handler knows where the blind is, and he has to keep his retriever on the imaginary line. With hand signals or whistles, the hunter guides his dog to the spot. It’s then up to the dog to find the final duck.

With four successful finds, the dog has done his job. There’s no big celebration. The Labrador already knows he was successful.

Thad Simmons has been working and training dogs since 1997 but didn’t start competing in the

grand until 2003. Since then, he has only missed two events. He is good at what he does. He has a 14-year-old dog who is in the hall of fame. Asked if he’s addicted, Thad says, “Oh yeah, I’m still here.”

He is a calm and laid-back country boy from Louisiana, but once you start talking about hunting dogs and what it takes to get ready for an event, you can hear the excitement and see his love for it.

Thad explains on average, the hunting dogs start to compete at 2 years or older.

“Training to get here takes a while to build the foundation to get to this step,” he says.

The training is long and intense to prepare the dogs for an event.

“Like the judge was saying, it’s just like a weekend finish test, but it’s judged a lot harder. The dogs just can’t make mistakes,” Thad says.

Everybody has their favorites, but for Thad, he is partial to the Grady dogs. The breed is not just any hunting dog. The retrievers are national field champion dogs. Thad has a saying that you can teach a dog to run blinds and sit still, and teach them to handle, but he says, “Marking — they either got it or they don’t. It’s hereditary.”

Thad has a true love for his dogs. When at home, they are just normal dogs.

“Sometimes while at the house, they want nothing to do with me,” he says.

Thad competes with two black Labs, one male

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named Magic, and one female named, Gin. Every year, a series of competitions puts the hunters and their retrievers to the test. The annual events are eagerly anticipated by those who trained tirelessly throughout the year for a chance to showcase their skills and camaraderie.

TJ Greer, a trainer and competitor, says, “This is our Super Bowl of the dog games. All these dogs are highly, highly trained and average in age 3-9 years old.”

TJ says he trains and competes with his dogs as well as clients’ dogs. But after training a client’s dog, does the owner have to be trained as well?

“Absolutely. We prefer an owner that will come out and learn how to drive the dog,” he said.

Beyond the thrill of competition, the Hunting

Retrieval Club fosters a sense of community and mutual support. Members share their knowledge, tips, and stories. It’s forming friendships that extend beyond the hunting grounds. They celebrate each other’s victories and offer consolation in defeat, always encouraging one another to improve and grow.

For the hunters and their retrievers, competitions are more than just a chance to showcase abilities.

They are a celebration of a shared passion, a testament to the strong bond they had forged through countless hours of training and shared experiences. And as they stand on the podium, their dogs by their sides, they know that the true prize is not the trophies they hold, but the lifelong memories and friendships they have gained along the way.

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CAMPESINO RUM ADVENTURER DISCOVERS NEW FORMULA FOR DISTILLING JUNGLE RUM

Story by Denise DuBois In a world filled with mass-produced spirits, a modest rum brand called Campesino Rum stands out for its dedication to authenticity and the art of crafting exceptional rum blends.

Hatton Smith, a native of Birmingham, Alabama and founder of Campesino Rum, started his journey leading jungle adventures and became a creator and purveyor of the spirit. His enthusiasm for his craft is evident.

Hatton’s journey into the world of rum began during his late teens and early 20s when he developed an obsession with exploring remote and challenging environments. This obsession led him to a particular part of Panama, where he would embark on grueling missions, sometimes covering up to 50 miles in a single day, to explore ancient footpaths known as caminos.

Hatton’s connection to Panama wasn’t purely accidental. Growing up in a family involved in the coffee business, he had already visited Panama a few times. The synergy between coffee and rum, both products of sugarcanerich regions, intrigued him. When he was 22, he moved to Panama full-time and began roasting coffee because that’s what he knew how to do. He drew parallels between the two and began experimenting with rum production.

“I had been to Panama a couple of times as a kid growing up,” Hatton said.

“I grew up in the coffee business. I had a little taste of it, and I just knew after getting out of high school that it was out there – that this type of stuff existed.

It’s the thought of finding a place that didn’t exist before.”

He explained that everyone in Panama making coffee was also drinking rum.

“I started drinking it because of that association,” he said.

Then the world of rum opened up again for him. In a makeshift distillery in Panama, Hatton was moonshining rum in a still in an environment that lacked electricity and modern amenities. This was the foundation of his passion for rum-making.

“It was a 125-gallon pot and column rum still that was really like a refurbished fermentation tank with a column on it. And I was just out there moonshining rum on this farm with no electricity or real connectivity, no WiFi. I was kind of selling it by hand,” he said. “That opened up my world and the thought of getting more legitimately into it and starting my own company.”

He moved back to his hometown in Alabama and lived in his mom’s basement. While working as a bartender by night, he dedicated his days to learning the intricacies of starting a rum company, often turning to Google for guidance.

These journeys deep into the jungle would ultimately inspire the essence of Campesino Rum. He explained how getting lost in the jungle, surrounded by the lush wilderness, inspired the brand’s identity. It is a brand that encapsulates the feeling of being lost in a world of adventure and discovery,

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much like his jungle escapes.

“When developing the brand, we drew a lot of inspiration from these moments. You would get covered up so deep inside and could get lost really easily,” he said about exploring the jungle paths. “It can almost swallow you. So, in creating the brand, we wanted to give that type of show. It has a lot of different elements that you can really dig into. It’s really a whole other world.”

In 2019, he made his first sale.

Campesino Rum, as Hatton describes it, is all about creating rum blends that remain true to their origins, using only the finest ingredients and a hands-off approach to production. Many rums on the market are laden with additives, sweeteners, and colorings, but Campesino Rum takes a purist approach, allowing the natural flavors of the rum to shine without interference.

“What we’re trying to bring the world is to show them that this is not a spirit you should forget about when considering (stocking) your home bar,” Hatton said. “There are so many stories tied to a bottle of rum that inspire adventure and travel.

It’s like unlocking new parts of your mind through imagination with just a sip of the spirit.”

Campesino Rum offers two distinct expressions: the Silver Rum and the Aged Rum. The Silver Rum is a 2-year-old spirit that undergoes a charcoal

filtration process, resulting in a clean and versatile rum. It’s perfect for classic cocktails like daiquiris and mojitos or more elevated drinks like the gin fizz.

“My favorite way to drink it is just with literally a spoonful of table sugar and half of a lime. I just mash it all into a glass. It’s fantastic,” Hatton said.

On the other hand, the Aged Rum, aged in exJack Daniels barrels, offers a rich and complex profile, akin to a bourbon. This rum captures the essence of the Panamanian jungle and the authenticity of its origins.

“It pulls a wood-like flavor,” he said. “It’s more of a cowboy rum. The word campesino is like a farmer, really like a cowboy. They build their own homes and might have a horse and work with cattle.

So everything with our brand kind of stems back to those guys.”

Campesino Rum’s journey doesn’t stop there.

Hatton revealed exciting plans for the brand’s future, including a mini-documentary filmed in the jungle, providing consumers with an immersive experience of the brand’s roots. They’re also set to release a 12-year-aged Panamanian single estate rum, offering connoisseurs a deeper dive into the world of Campesino Rum. Campesino Rum is available in Alabama, Tennessee, Florida, and Georgia currently and online at campesinorum.com.

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CAMPESINO OLD FASHIONED 2 oz Campesino Aged 1/4 oz Honey Syrup (1:1) 1 Dash Chocolate Bitters 1 Dash Orange Bitters 1/4 oz Royal Cup Cold Brew Coffee Stir Campesino Aged, honey syrup, cold brew, and bitters in a mixing glass with ice. Strain into a rocks glass with a large ice cube. Garnish with a flared orange peel.

Our take: First, let’s talk ingredients. The Campesino Aged is already giving me jungle vibes because of the stories Hatton Smith shared during the interview. But then there’s coffee. In an old fashioned. Okay, I’m here for it. Not a fan of coffee, but I love trying new drinks. If I’m honest, the trickiest thing for me is making the garnishes. After a few sips, the flavors waltz on my taste buds and leave their mark. It’s a good blend of sophistication and surprise.

Let’s cheers to this drink!

CAMPO GOLD 2 oz Campesino Aged 1 oz Honey Syrup (1:1) 3/4 oz Fresh Lemon Juice Combine all ingredients into a shaker tin with ice. Shake for 30 seconds. Strain into a chilled rocks glass with one large ice cube. Garnish with a lemon peel.

Our take: The lineup on this cocktail is short and sweet.

Just how I like it. I’m not making a mess of my kitchen and using all of my recently acquired bar accessories. I added everything and shook it like a Polaroid picture. The star of the show is the Campesino Rum and the lemon juice adds a zesty twist. While this might not come off as a fall drink, it’s a wonderful transition cocktail.

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UNDER THE MUSCADINE VINE: FALL RETROSPECTIVE Story by Marian Carcache Trick-or-treating in Jernigan, Alabama, in the early 1960s was small scale, but the few of us who grew up there never thought about that. There were, at most, five houses our parents drove us to and watched from the car while we knocked on our neighbors’ — most of whom were also our relatives — doors in anticipation more of “scaring” them than of receiving candy.

I quickly figured out that wearing the same Ben Cooper witch’s costume, hard plastic vacu-form mask and thin vinyl cape, year-after-year took away a bit of the fear factor. That the neighbors were not really scared, but pretending to be in order to thrill their small goblin neighbors.

One Halloween, however, stands out in memory. School-aged children were already trained to “duck and cover” in case of nuclear attack, and reports started circulating that outlines of crosses had inexplicably appeared in some church windows around the area. There was talk about the moon turning red and disappearing — rumblings about the end of the world.

Long before “trunk-or-treating” in church parking lots had been thought of, the mothers of the community planned a Halloween carnival in the old Cottonton schoolhouse to replace trick-or-

treating that year. They blamed stories from “up north” about razor blades in apples and rat poison in candy that had been handed out to children.

Looking back, those threats were pretty mild compared to what the powers in dark places were capable of doing, but bobbing for apples we knew had not been weaponized against us sounded fun.

When the night of the carnival finally arrived, I retired the witch’s costume in favor of an army cap and a cigar. With anticipation, I climbed into the backseat of the Rambler dressed as Fidel Castro, a man whom folks seemed to fear more than the ghouls we associated with the season.

I remember: the crisp October night air, the autumn sky illuminated by the moon and the stars. The echo of children running up and down the hallways of the empty school. The scent of grape Kool-Aid. Plastic pumpkins filled with Tootsie Rolls and Sugar Babies that were no competition for the platter of homemade chocolate fudge Mrs. Leona contributed to the festivities.

I don’t have many other concrete memories of the Year of the Carnival. But we were a community back then. We were safe — little witches, devils, skeletons, and ghosts in customs fashioned from old bed sheets — forgetting for one hallowed evening that the world might be on the brink of disaster.

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WEWA

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Cold Drinks, Good Eats & Back Road Treats

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Southern Essentials

Publisher Katie Waldrep shares her Fall finds.

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Hammit Clear Game Day purse Gone are the days when you could bring any bag with you to the SEC championship. Almost every stadium and venue requires clear purses now. The Hammitt Tony SML style crossbody bag comes in a variety of colors so you can show your school spirit. Or, you can go with a basic black to match any attire. hammitt.com

Lemon Daisy Design Painted Pumpkins These adorable painted pumpkins can be used year after year. The large plastic pumpkins feature hand-painted designs ranging from a starfish to a crab and are perfect for poolside or front-porch beach displays from Halloween through Thanksgiving. lemondaisydesign.com

The Poncho Cordoba Shirt This shirt is lightweight and breathable for those hot days on the dove field. It has a UPF of 50+ and dries in minutes. It is even made of anti-odor fabric and comes with a built-in lens cloth to get the dust off your glasses. Any man (including my husband) would be happy to live in this shirt. ponchooutdoors.com

Taylor Reese Samford Bulldogs Bracelet Stack I am so impressed with the variation of colors and styles by this talented jewelry designer.

From bracelet stacks that celebrate Samford to SMU, everyone will find fabulous pieces to choose from.

Taylor also sells adorable handknotted “candy crush necklaces.”

The motto on her website says it all: “There’s no place like your alma mater.” shoptaylorreese.com

Southern Straws Cheese Straws These delicious treats are a staple in our house! They are the perfect appetizer to put in a bowl or on a charcuterie board at any get-together. Set them out, and I promise, they will be gone by dinnertime. This mother-son is are dedicated to making old-fashioned cheese straws. They can be found in more than 450 boutiques and Piggly Wiggly stores, or order them online.

Southernstraws.com

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Mollie Jenkins Ghost Pottery Mollie created these ghost sculptures back in 2013, and they have been a huge hit since then.

The MJP Ghosts come in four sizes and can hold a tea light to illuminate the ghost at night.

Molliejenkinspottery.com

Stankstix My children play a lot of fall sports, and with that come stinky shoes. This company created a product to eliminate odor and bacteria that grows in shoes. It is non-toxic and easy to use. Just slip them in the shoes after practice! Glovestix.com

Slip Pillowcase Silk pillowcases are all the rage, and the Slipsilk pillowcase is the best! Slipsilk has been tested by an independent lab and shown to reduce hair friction (who wants to wake up with frizzy hair) and lessen absorption of every Southern girl’s beloved overnight face cream. Slip.com

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Hulisen Grill Caddy Every tailgate should have one of these. The grill caddy is not just for grilling. It can be used at any picnic or your favorite football gathering. It has a place for paper towels, condiments, paper plates, and plastic utensils. Amazon.com

Nori Steam Iron When you don’t want to get out the heavy iron or when you are traveling and still want to look put together, pull out the Nori Steam Iron. The iron looks like a hair flat iron, but its head has the shape of a small clothes iron.

It’s easy to use and easy to pack in your suitcase. Nori.co

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MAMA SAID: WHIP THAT DRESSING

By Leslie Anne Jones Thanksgiving at my mama’s house is a big deal. My family goes all out. Every traditional Thanksgiving dish imaginable can be found in a silver serving dish on top of my mother’s antique buffet. Cream corn, peas, squash casserole, two different types of sweet potato casserole (for those who prefer marshmallow toppings or pecan toppings), green beans, Veg-All casserole, just to name a few. And of course, you can’t forget the turkey, gravy, and cranberry sauce (and ham. We always have both. I’m not kidding when I say we go all out).

Those things are great and all, but in my family, there is only room for one star at Thanksgiving, and that is the dressing.

The recipe came from my father’s mother. Who got it from her mother. And every year, her handwritten recipe sits on the countertop, in the same plastic picture frame it has always been in.

I don’t know which is stronger. The feeling of connection it gives me to a side of the family I barely knew or the feeling of comfort it brings like most traditions do. I love seeing it there, next to my mother in her apron — just the same as it’s always been since I can remember.

And isn’t that what traditions do? Why we cling to them so? They bring us a sense of comfort and steadiness in an ever-changing and chaotic world.

Do you want to know the secret to what makes this dressing so delicious? Mama said, “It’s the whippin’.” Once you get the cornbread egg mixture going, “You gotta whip them for a least 45 minutes to get the air up under there.”

This task has fallen to me on a few Thanksgivings. Luckily, even I didn’t mess it up, or everybody would have known exactly who to blame for ruining Thanksgiving.

And it’s not just my family either.

A friend recently shared the story of the first Thanksgiving she spent in the South after moving here from New York.

It came as a response to a question about what’s the biggest difference she’s found in moving down here. I’d expected to hear about the way we talk or the slower way of living (all things she’s mentioned before).

Instead, she told me of the time she signed up to bring the dressing for her child’s Thanksgiving class party. She showed up with a bottle of Ranch and a bottle of Balsamic Vinaigrette, thinking her choices were solid. Instead, she was met with blank stares from the teachers and alarmed whispers of, “How can we have a Thanksgiving party without dressing?”

Thanksgiving is a time for family and friends to come together

to give thanks for the many blessings in our lives. Whether you are serving on fine china or Chinet, we all have so much to be grateful for. I am grateful for my family, my health, and a belly full of Grandmother’s dressing. And thankful for the warm memories and traditions that bring us together.

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NEAL LUCAS

SOUL ON THE SIX STRING Story by John West Neal Lucas doesn’t like to play his songs the same way twice. At his core, he is an improvisational guitarist. He says he always has been.

Growing up in Talbotton, Georgia, Lucas played along in jam sessions with his father and other local

musicians. He cut his six-string teeth feeling his way through the gospel and outlaw country covers favored by the older musicians surrounding him.

Now, at 46, Lucas’ playing has a soulful and gritty southern rock influence that can fit easily into an Allman Brothers extended family playlist. It should be no surprise then, that he still treats his perfor-

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mances like those loose jam sessions he grew up in.

“The whole Southern rock thing in general, I think, has always lent itself to artists being able to kind of do whatever they want from song to song,” Lucas says. “There’s so many influences within the whole Southern rock deal, whether it’s jazz or country or rock or blues, definitely. You know, there’s so much space, and it’s so wide what you can do in it.”

Lucas regularly plays shows across Central Georgia and East Alabama. At a solo performance in Auburn, Alabama, he deftly moved between rhythm and lead, fire red Gibson hollow body guitar in hand, relying on nothing but his instinct and skill to support his gravelly vocals. Each song was an odyssey unto itself, a Southern rock jam journey extending beyond his original album compositions.

A listen to Lucas’ Spotify catalogue — he’s released four albums and three singles over his career — is practically a master class in how to do southern rock and blues. Music aficionados will recognize his slide work glistens like Duane Allman and grits like Johnny Winter. His finger-picking creates the feeling he learned alongside Derrick Trucks. His vocals are a strong echo of Warren Haynes. Lucas fits right into the Southern tradition he grew up in.

“It’s hard to be a guitar player in the South for the past 20-30 years or whatever and not be influenced by those guys,” he said. “All the guitar players that have passed through that Allman Brothers Camp, you know, are great players. Duane and Dickey, all the stuff they did, I’m influenced by that, but definitely

by Warren Haynes and Derrick Trucks.”

Whether recording with a full band live inside a century-old Episcopal Church in his hometown for “New Day,” or rocking out with just his guitar and a small drum kit on “Lost in the Music,” Lucas lets the blues and gospel seep through every note. Organs swell and fill the soul. The bass and drums are right in the pocket. His songs regularly alternate between melancholy and hope. From New Day, up to his most recent single, “Steady Love,” all of his music is a soundtrack for his life.

“I’m just writing about my experience,” Lucas said. “That’s all any of us have. I probably feel the same things most people do. I just write songs about it.”

Lucas’ hometown of Talbotton has a population that’s just a scratch under 1,000. It’s a blink-and-you-

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might-miss-it circle in the middle of Talbot County, Georgia, about halfway between Columbus and that southern rock mecca, Macon. It’s where, under his father’s guidance, Lucas learned to play. His dad was a guitarist and pianist who came up playing in a local church and in jam sessions with his friends.

“Music was always there,” Lucas said. “He was always doing it, and I loved it … when I started playing, it was one of the first things that seemed like it made sense.”

Of course, learning to play guitar didn’t come easy. He had to first get his musical legs underneath him. As a kid, he would crank his amplifier as loud as he could. It may have been noise to those around him, but Lucas says it sounded great to his ears.

Family members could clearly hear him from outside of the house as he tried to figure out the instrument.

His dad kept pushing him though.

“I remember my cousin looking at him and said, ‘Your boy is never going to learn how to play that guitar,’” Lucas says. “So, my dad just kept throwing it at me. I guess it finally stuck.”

By 13, Lucas was regularly playing jam sessions alongside his dad. He would sit in on the group, patiently wait his turn, and when someone signaled to him with a head nod, he would take a solo. At the end of the night, he got paid a little for his efforts as well.

“I was kind of ruined with what I was interested in doing with the rest of my life by the time I was 13 or 14,” Lucas says. “I can jam on the guitar, and people are going to give me money for it? I think that’s what I want to try to do.”

And do it he has. He plays regularly in venues from Macon to Auburn. He is also currently recording new music alongside drummer and producer Sean O’Rourke and bassist Neal Fountain. There’s no title for the album yet, but Lucas says the project’s emergence will be“ pretty immediate.” What to expect from it? Just check out one of his live shows with O’Rourke and Fountain. That might get you close. Whatever is to come, it’ll undoubtedly be another improvised journey.

“I really love making music with them,” Lucas said. “It seems to have a little vibe to it. I’m very interested in capturing what we’ve been doing live, trying to capture that in the studio for a recording.

I’m very, very excited about that.”

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NOW OPEN AT OUR NEW

Expanded Location at

211 13th street suite 107 @councilstudio