Thursday, October 09, 2008
I spent the weekend at the beach with my parents, and they brought with them a big bag of fresh-picked mountain apples from North Carolina. While I've bought "mountain apples" a few times at farmer's markets here in Charleston, it was the first time in recent memory that I've had ones fresh off the tree. Man, what a difference. Sweet, tart, and so flavorful they'll knock your socks off.
Plus, the apples travel pretty well. My folks bought them on Saturday, and here it is five days later and I'm enjoying one of the big Granny Smiths I took home with me, pairing them up with a nice manchego cheese and, criminey!, the two flavors just blend together perfectly.
These aren't even heirloom varieties, just fresh picked versions of what you normally buy at the local BiLo. I don't see how I can ever settle for one of those tasteless Washington State models again.
In various parts of the country, retail stores that sell liquor are called by all sorts of different names. When they need a bottle of whis...
In my recent post on the origin of the term “package store,” I mentioned that in South Carolina liquor stores are often called “red dot ...
Lex Culinaria's Summer Barbeque Challenge asks bloggers to step outside their comfort zones and come up with interesting barbecue dish...