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The Delights of Dried Food

In my youth, and to a far greater degree one or two generations earlier, hardy mountain folks living close to the land relied heavily on curing, pickling, and drying to preserve foods. The advent of canning and then home freezers dramatically changed these well-established culinary practices, but all remain a viable, indeed vital, part of the food equation for high country residents who joy in the diversity of tastes traditional practices can provide. That is true for scrumptious offerings ranging from country ham to cucumber pickles, and anyone unfamiliar with the variety and special flavors dehydrated foods can provide has a series of treats awaiting them. The manner in which dried foods can be used is limited by little other than the cook’s imagination, and most of the recipes below are part of a rich Smokies culinary heritage.

Apple Stack Cake

As far back as my memory of desserts stretches, there has been one constant—stack cake. A seven-layer stack cake should be allowed to set a couple of days, if possible. That way the sauce slathered between each layer has an opportunity to turn the entire edifice into a miracle of cooking wonder, where flavors have mixed, mingled, and married. The only thing better than a slice of this mound of magic is two slices. Almost until her death, Grandma Minnie made a stack cake whenever she received word I would be coming home for a few days, and the thought of that splendid union of flour, sugar, apples and spice exerts enduring allure. She never measured anything. The cake was made with apples Grandpa had grown, peeled and dried, and Grandma Minnie had as confident a hand with it as with her daily biscuits.

Properly made stack cakes are labor intensive, but work was always a welcome companion for Grandma. With a pinch of this, a dollop of that, and “tetch” of spice and love—the most essential of all ingredients in truly memorable food preparation—she worked wonders. Here is the closest approximation of how she made stack cakes. 

CAKE

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Combine dry ingredients in a bowl and whisk thoroughly. Combine butter and sugar and mix until grainy and wet. Add molasses into mixture. Add eggs one at a time and mix. Alternate adding the dry mixture and buttermilk, a bit at a time, and mix or whisk until all has been incorporated. Roll the resulting dough into a ball and refrigerate for a half hour then divide the dough into seven equal portions atop round pieces of parchment the size of a 9-inch cake pan. Roll out to the size of the parchment. Leaving paper in place, place dough circles on baking sheets. Cook for 10 minutes or until a toothpick comes away clean. Slide off baking sheets to cool and when cooled slide off parchment.

APPLE FILLING

Place apples and other filling ingredients in a large sauce pan and bring to a slow simmer before transferring to a food processor. Pulse into a smooth, thick paste.

To assemble the stack cake, spread fruit evenly on cakes one layer at a time. Be sure to center each layer before moving to the next. Leave the top cake layer without fruit. Wrap carefully and refrigerate for a day to allow the fruit to mingle, mix, and marry with the cake. When ready to serve, dusty with powdered sugar if desired.

Leather Britches Beans

Green beans were almost as commonplace on our family table as cornbread. Prolific, easy to grow, and requiring less attention than most other vegetables, they formed a mainstay of the mountain diet. 

While most of our white half runners were canned, some were always dried for leather britches (the name derives from the dried pods’ wrinkled, shriveled appearance resembling much that of untreated leather). Preparing leather britches was actually simpler than canning. You strung the beans, left them whole, and then used a sturdy needle with heavy thread to pierce three feet or so of them. Sometimes there would be 20 or 30 stringers hanging in the summer sun, beneath a barn’s tin roof, or in the kitchen. Drying continued until all moisture was gone, followed by storage in a cheesecloth bag or hanging from kitchen rafters.

Cooking leather britches involves rinsing them followed by a lengthy soak of at least 12 hours (twice that time is perfectly fine). A wonderful African-American cook who was a neighbor described them as “holy beans.” They became holy because you “cooked the hell out of them.” That translated to putting the beans in a large pot with a few slices of streaked meat and simmering until well done, soft to a point just short of being mushy, and swimming in a tasty blend of pork fat and water. Keep a watchful eye, because leather britches absorb a lot of water and it will require added moisture during the cooking process. 

Serve with hot cornbread to make a meal pretty much alone, or use as an unusual side dish. They taste distinctively different from green beans.

Fried Peach Pies

Throughout my youth Momma had an arrangement with a local fruit stand when peach season rolled around. For a token price she bought all peaches which were damaged or going bad. Whenever this happened all available hands went to work peeling and slicing. Some peaches were canned or made into preserves, but a goodly portion were sliced thin and set to dry. They were sometimes blanched with sulfur to keep them from turning brown. More often than not, though, the fruit was simply dried in the summer sun or atop a tin roof. Once dried and stored, the peaches kept quite nicely until the time came to turn them into fried pies, or mule’s ears, as this delightful dessert was sometimes called. 

Be aware that natural scavengers—birds, bugs—might take an interest in unprotected fruit set outside to dry. You might cover the bounty with cheesecloth to protect it.

Fried pies, whether hot off the griddle or eaten cold as leftovers, are wonderful. Perhaps because we had a small orchard and used apples in so many ways, peaches were the fruit I preferred, and they remain something I find mighty pleasing to the palate.

Here’s a basic recipe for fried pies, although neither Momma nor Grandma measured when preparing the filler and dough.

Stir the other ingredients into the peach sauce, perhaps cutting back or adding to the amount of sugar depending on personal taste.  Allow to cool while making the crust. For the crust, use a bit less shortening than you would for a regular crust (we used home-rendered lard).  Roll out thin and then cut in circles (a coffee saucer and a knife produce perfect ones). When the crust is ready, add fruit to half the circle, fold over the other half, use a fork to crimp and seal the edges, and cook in a cast-iron frying pan with just enough piping hot lard to prevent sticking. Turn only once. Drain on paper towels and serve while still warm.  If desired, slather on butter or dust with cinnamon sugar. 

Persimmon Leather

Hunters sometimes describe persimmons as “nature’s candy,” and there is no question about the sticky sweet wonder of truly ripe ones. Persimmons contain appreciably less moisture than many fruits, and lend themselves to drying. Gathering enough wild ones, removing their many seeds, and obtaining enough pulp, can be a chore. However, Oriental persimmons are easy to grow, bear early and carry fruit many times the size of their wild cousins, while losing nothing when it comes to taste. They are ideal for persimmon leather.

The process is simple. Clean full ripe Oriental persimmons, soft almost to the point of mushiness, and mash them through a colander. That removes any fiber or hints of seeds they have while producing pulp ready for drying. Place in thin strips atop parchment paper in a dehydrator set at a fairly low temperature, or on tinfoil in the sun. When dry the leather will still be flexible, as opposed to brittle, and can be rolled up. It keeps best in a refrigerator or in air-tight jars. Be aware that any vestiges of moisture can lead to mold. Leather can also be compacted and frozen. It makes a wonderful, chewy snack or can be reconstituted for persimmon pudding or bread.

Blueberry Upside-Down Cake

My good friend Tipper Pressley, an exemplar of old-time mountain foodways who annually shares her expertise in a cooking class at the John C. Campbell Folk School, first brought this recipe to my attention. She uses fresh blueberries, but knowing that blueberries dry easily immediately suggested using dehydrated ones. 

Melt one-third of your butter (half stick) in the cake pan. Stir in the brown sugar until it is fully blended.

Add rehydrated blueberries to the pan bottom and distribute evenly for a full layer.

Melt remaining butter and mix with sugar, eggs, and vanilla using a whisk or beater. Add flour, baking powder, and salt, stirring enough to combine. Add sour cream and whisk until combined (it helps to soften sour cream by microwaving a few seconds).

Pour batter over fruit and bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes or until done. Remove from oven and cool for 5 to 10 minutes before turning onto a plate.

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