To contact us Click HERE
William Clyde "Bill" Friday was born 92 years ago in the Rockbridge County, Va. community of Raphine, but he moved with his family to North Carolina as a child -- a historic event that in time would change North Carolina for the better. Friday's contributions to the state can be measured in the progress North Carolina made in the second half of the 20th Century, when Friday's sure-handed guidance of the University of North Carolina system contributed to the state's economic progress, the increase in its college-going rate and especially in his raising the expectations of students from low- and middle-income families that at the 17-campus UNC system, it would always be possible to go to college.
Bill Friday was my friend, though I never could quite bring myself to call him "Bill." He did not have a doctorate and didn't particularly like to be called Dr. Friday, though many did. Most of the time it was simply "Mr. Friday," and many was the time when Friday would have some issue on his mind, or a suggestion for an editorial, or a story one of our reporters might tackle, and when I answered the phone, the conversation would start this way: "Hello, old friend. This is Bill Friday...."
I'll miss his friendship and guidance, and his even-handed approach, as will North Carolina, but perhaps our policymakers will keep his approach and his convictions in mind in future as they make tough decisions.
Here's a piece I wrote for today's Charlotte Observer about Mr. Friday:
http://www.charlotteobserver.com/2012/10/12/3594015/how-to-pay-debt-of-gratitude-to.html
25 Şubat 2013 Pazartesi
Don't know if this tree made noise when it fell
To contact us Click HERE
So yesterday I noted that the howling wind from Sandy's remnants was still with us, as it is this morning, but that no trees had fallen. Yesterday afternoon, I rolled in from a trip down to Winston-Salem and saw that I was wrong -- that a three-stemmed (but long dead) locust tree had capsized after taking on too much wind.
If it blew over in the night or the day, no one heard it above the screech of the wind -- maybe because it's not big at all. I expect we'll get out the chain saws to make firewood billets and the splitter to bring it to size and the tractor to yank the stump this weekend. At least we shouldn't have to wait for the wood to season. I think it's ready now. Come to think of it, the storm did us a favor on this old tree.
If it blew over in the night or the day, no one heard it above the screech of the wind -- maybe because it's not big at all. I expect we'll get out the chain saws to make firewood billets and the splitter to bring it to size and the tractor to yank the stump this weekend. At least we shouldn't have to wait for the wood to season. I think it's ready now. Come to think of it, the storm did us a favor on this old tree.
Cooked your holiday ham yet? No? Here's how!
To contact us Click HERE
Well, shoot, lookahere, it's barely two weeks before Christmas and I've been so busy trying to wind up work on a book that I plum forgot what ought to be a Christmastime tradition around these parts: A great recipe for the best ham you ever ate.
It's important, of course, this being the Southern Appalachians and all, and as Southerners we have a duty to eat good pork and support an industry that has given the free world Smithfield hams in Virginia and pit-cooked barbecue in North Carolina and even something they call BBQ in more Southern climes. Plus, you're going to need some ham and some greens and some black-eyed peas on New Years Day, assuming you want to start 2013 off on a good foot.
My Dad considered himself one of the world's foremost experts in eating ham. Not the raising of ham, or the curing or the cooking or anything else related to the fixing. Nossir, he just liked to eat 'em. The ones he especially liked he called "hammus alabammus" -- from the pet pig Salomey belonging to the Yokum family in Al Capp's sometimes hilarious comic strip, Li'l Abner. Dad would rate how country a ham was by quarts. "That was a three-quart ham we had tonight," he'd say, referring not to the volume of ham we'd just wolfed down, but on how many quarts of water he'd likely have to drink that evening to deal with the salt factor before he hit the rack. The more quarts, the better he liked it, and don't mention any of this to his salt-obsessed doctor, who'd surely read him seven riot acts for consuming so much salt and revving up his heart rate to about the same pace as Ol' 97 when it came screaming down the line toward Danville.
But I digress. The thing about the ham we've learned to enjoy up here is not only how good it is, but how you can make a house party out of fixing it. Or not, as you see fit, but it's always good to have a little Irish whiskey around to sip on while dreaming of what that ham-in-the-works aroma really means. It means you are about to do some fine eating.
This set of instructions first appeared online, I think, in a blog of The Charlotte Observer, but it has its roots in the Person County N.C. community of Roxboro. My neighbor Barnie Day passed it on to me a few years back and has demonstrated several times in the past year that this thing works well every time. I can't improve on Barnie's writing or his cooking, so here it is, in his own words. Enjoy:
This is the world’s best way to cook a country ham. Guaranteed. Period. Scout’s honor. Cross my heart and hope to die. And it’s not original. Of course, I stole it. And, as luck would have it, it is also the easiest. Often the case. We overcomplicate a lot of things. Cooking a ham is one of them.
Let’s start with the ham itself, and how it was cured.
There are lots of run-of-the-mill brands, some of them old and famous but still run-of-the-mill, brands that owe their reputations more to glossy catalogues and clever and expensive marketing campaigns than they do to judge-by-eating juries.
Many of these hams are cured “inside out,” needle-embalmed with nitrate injections. They are not the best hams -- often more expensive -- but not the best.
Still, these hams eat okay -- unless you’ve eaten ham cured like your granddaddy cured it, ham cured the old way.
He cured his hams “outside in.” He didn’t know about nitrate injections. (And if he had, he wouldn’t have done it to his hams!) He simply packed his fresh in plain salt for six to eight weeks, took them up, washed and dried them, maybe smoked them a little, maybe not, probably peppered them, hung them in cotton sacking in a cool place, out of reach of the dogs, and aged them for several months.
A note here: don’t be flummoxed by the term “sugar cured.” Often salt is mixed with sugar, with pepper, with molasses, with honey -- all kinds of stuff -- and labeled some fancy “cure,” or another, but these things -- including smoke -- be it apple wood, hickory, whatever -- only flavor hams. What cures, or preserves, a ham is the salt that it absorbs during the curing process.
Buy whatever brand you want. For my money, the best country ham in this part of the world, the one closest to what your granddaddy cured, is a Clifty Farm ham, processed for 60 years or so by the Murphey Family, in Paris, Tennessee. They’re usually available, and reasonably priced, across Southside Virginia around Christmastime. ($1.79 a pound at the Piggly Wiggly in Danville.)
[Also available, our scouts in the field have advised us, at Slaughter's in Floyd. And now, back to Barnie:)
Okay, now let’s cook that bad boy!
Unwrap the ham and wash it. Yeah, they all have a little mold. No big deal. Really. It would cause me some concern if it didn’t have mold on it. Just palm it off with a little warm water. Two minutes, tops.
Put the ham in a pot that you have a top for. I always have to cut the hock off so it will fit the pot I use. They’ll cut the hock off for you at the grocery store. If I have to tell you what that hock is good for, stop reading this and move on. You got no business with a country ham. Either that, or you’re a Yankee, and threw the ham out when you saw the mold.
Fill the pot with water until the ham is covered with 3-4 inches, put the top on, and bring it to a boil.
Now here is the trick to this: As soon as it begins to boil, you take it off the stove. That’s right. Off the stove when it begins to boil. Set it somewhere where it will be out of your way.
Now we’re going to wrap that puppy up. Pot and all. You can use most anything -- towels, an old blanket, a quilt, a sleeping bag. The patio lounge cushion works well. That’s what I use. The idea is to insulate the pot so that it holds the heat.
I put an inch or so of newspaper under the pot, the same amount on top, wrap the patio cushion around it, and tie the cushion in place with baling twine. This doesn’t take five minutes. Just make sure it’s insulated good.
When you get it wrapped, leave it alone. Walk away from it. Forget about it for 12 hours. Just let it sit.
After 12 hours, remove the wrap, and take the ham out of the pot and put it on a baking pan. Careful here—even after sitting 12 hours, the water will be too hot for you to put your hands in.
Trim the skin off, score a diamond pattern on the thin layer of encasing fat, rub into it a cup of white sugar, put the ham -- uncovered -- in the oven and bake it for 2 hours at 275 degrees. And that’s it. You’re done. Let it cool before slicing.
Merry Christmas. And best to you and yourn.
Barnie K. Day
Meadows of Dan, VA
It's important, of course, this being the Southern Appalachians and all, and as Southerners we have a duty to eat good pork and support an industry that has given the free world Smithfield hams in Virginia and pit-cooked barbecue in North Carolina and even something they call BBQ in more Southern climes. Plus, you're going to need some ham and some greens and some black-eyed peas on New Years Day, assuming you want to start 2013 off on a good foot.
My Dad considered himself one of the world's foremost experts in eating ham. Not the raising of ham, or the curing or the cooking or anything else related to the fixing. Nossir, he just liked to eat 'em. The ones he especially liked he called "hammus alabammus" -- from the pet pig Salomey belonging to the Yokum family in Al Capp's sometimes hilarious comic strip, Li'l Abner. Dad would rate how country a ham was by quarts. "That was a three-quart ham we had tonight," he'd say, referring not to the volume of ham we'd just wolfed down, but on how many quarts of water he'd likely have to drink that evening to deal with the salt factor before he hit the rack. The more quarts, the better he liked it, and don't mention any of this to his salt-obsessed doctor, who'd surely read him seven riot acts for consuming so much salt and revving up his heart rate to about the same pace as Ol' 97 when it came screaming down the line toward Danville.
But I digress. The thing about the ham we've learned to enjoy up here is not only how good it is, but how you can make a house party out of fixing it. Or not, as you see fit, but it's always good to have a little Irish whiskey around to sip on while dreaming of what that ham-in-the-works aroma really means. It means you are about to do some fine eating.
This set of instructions first appeared online, I think, in a blog of The Charlotte Observer, but it has its roots in the Person County N.C. community of Roxboro. My neighbor Barnie Day passed it on to me a few years back and has demonstrated several times in the past year that this thing works well every time. I can't improve on Barnie's writing or his cooking, so here it is, in his own words. Enjoy:
This is the world’s best way to cook a country ham. Guaranteed. Period. Scout’s honor. Cross my heart and hope to die. And it’s not original. Of course, I stole it. And, as luck would have it, it is also the easiest. Often the case. We overcomplicate a lot of things. Cooking a ham is one of them.
Let’s start with the ham itself, and how it was cured.
There are lots of run-of-the-mill brands, some of them old and famous but still run-of-the-mill, brands that owe their reputations more to glossy catalogues and clever and expensive marketing campaigns than they do to judge-by-eating juries.
Many of these hams are cured “inside out,” needle-embalmed with nitrate injections. They are not the best hams -- often more expensive -- but not the best.
Still, these hams eat okay -- unless you’ve eaten ham cured like your granddaddy cured it, ham cured the old way.
He cured his hams “outside in.” He didn’t know about nitrate injections. (And if he had, he wouldn’t have done it to his hams!) He simply packed his fresh in plain salt for six to eight weeks, took them up, washed and dried them, maybe smoked them a little, maybe not, probably peppered them, hung them in cotton sacking in a cool place, out of reach of the dogs, and aged them for several months.
A note here: don’t be flummoxed by the term “sugar cured.” Often salt is mixed with sugar, with pepper, with molasses, with honey -- all kinds of stuff -- and labeled some fancy “cure,” or another, but these things -- including smoke -- be it apple wood, hickory, whatever -- only flavor hams. What cures, or preserves, a ham is the salt that it absorbs during the curing process.
Buy whatever brand you want. For my money, the best country ham in this part of the world, the one closest to what your granddaddy cured, is a Clifty Farm ham, processed for 60 years or so by the Murphey Family, in Paris, Tennessee. They’re usually available, and reasonably priced, across Southside Virginia around Christmastime. ($1.79 a pound at the Piggly Wiggly in Danville.)
[Also available, our scouts in the field have advised us, at Slaughter's in Floyd. And now, back to Barnie:)
Okay, now let’s cook that bad boy!
Unwrap the ham and wash it. Yeah, they all have a little mold. No big deal. Really. It would cause me some concern if it didn’t have mold on it. Just palm it off with a little warm water. Two minutes, tops.
Put the ham in a pot that you have a top for. I always have to cut the hock off so it will fit the pot I use. They’ll cut the hock off for you at the grocery store. If I have to tell you what that hock is good for, stop reading this and move on. You got no business with a country ham. Either that, or you’re a Yankee, and threw the ham out when you saw the mold.
Fill the pot with water until the ham is covered with 3-4 inches, put the top on, and bring it to a boil.
Now here is the trick to this: As soon as it begins to boil, you take it off the stove. That’s right. Off the stove when it begins to boil. Set it somewhere where it will be out of your way.
Now we’re going to wrap that puppy up. Pot and all. You can use most anything -- towels, an old blanket, a quilt, a sleeping bag. The patio lounge cushion works well. That’s what I use. The idea is to insulate the pot so that it holds the heat.
I put an inch or so of newspaper under the pot, the same amount on top, wrap the patio cushion around it, and tie the cushion in place with baling twine. This doesn’t take five minutes. Just make sure it’s insulated good.
When you get it wrapped, leave it alone. Walk away from it. Forget about it for 12 hours. Just let it sit.
After 12 hours, remove the wrap, and take the ham out of the pot and put it on a baking pan. Careful here—even after sitting 12 hours, the water will be too hot for you to put your hands in.
Trim the skin off, score a diamond pattern on the thin layer of encasing fat, rub into it a cup of white sugar, put the ham -- uncovered -- in the oven and bake it for 2 hours at 275 degrees. And that’s it. You’re done. Let it cool before slicing.
Merry Christmas. And best to you and yourn.
Barnie K. Day
Meadows of Dan, VA
Bats in Crisis: Nature's Natural Pest Patrol in Peril
To contact us Click HERE
The National Park Service has released Bats in Crisis, three videos about white-nose syndrome, a disease that is decimating bat populations across eastern North America. The disease is found in 10 national parks. Its presence has just been confirmed in Cumberland Gap National Historical Park, and the National Park Service is concerned it will reach more parks.
“White-nose syndrome is killing hibernating bats at unprecedented rates and has the potential to cause extinction in some species,” said National Park Service Director Jonathan B. Jarvis. “Each bat can eat thousands of insects each night so their loss would be a blow to ecosystem conservation and the agriculture industry that relies on the natural pest control and pollination services bats provide. We need the public’s help to limit the spread of this disease so we are asking visitors to take a look at these videos and understand what steps they can take when touring or exploring caves.”
The Bats in Crisis videos feature National Park Service scientists, technicians, and educators and are online here. Cave park visitors can access the videos using “QR” codes affixed to signs, kiosks, brochures, and other media.
White-nose syndrome is caused by a cold-adapted fungus, Geomyces destructans. The disease – which is not transmittable to humans – was first observed in caves near Albany, N.Y., in the winter of 2006–2007. Since then, white-nose syndrome has spread to 18 more states and four Canadian provinces. It has been detected in seven species of hibernating bats, and G. destructans has been found on two additional species, apparently without causing white-nose syndrome.
The 10 national parks that have reported bats with white-nose syndrome are: Acadia National Park (Maine), Chesapeake and Ohio Canal National Historic Park (Washington, D.C, Md., W.Va.), Chickamauga and Chattanooga National Military Park (Ga. Tenn.), Cumberland Gap National Historical Park (Ky., Tenn., Va.), Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area (N.J., Pa.), Great Smoky Mountains National Park (N.C., Tenn.), Mammoth Cave National Park (Ky.), New River Gorge National River (W.Va.), Ozark National Scenic Riverways (Mo.), and Russell Cave National Monument (Ala.).
National parks across the country have implemented management and educational activities to help minimize the spread of the disease and work collaboratively with federal, state, tribal, and private groups to improve understanding of the disease.
For more information about white-nose syndrome in the National Park Service, visit: www.nature.nps.gov/biology/WNS/index.cfm.
For more information about white-nose syndrome in general visit: www.whitenosesyndrome.org.
Jeff
Hiking in the Smokies
“White-nose syndrome is killing hibernating bats at unprecedented rates and has the potential to cause extinction in some species,” said National Park Service Director Jonathan B. Jarvis. “Each bat can eat thousands of insects each night so their loss would be a blow to ecosystem conservation and the agriculture industry that relies on the natural pest control and pollination services bats provide. We need the public’s help to limit the spread of this disease so we are asking visitors to take a look at these videos and understand what steps they can take when touring or exploring caves.”
The Bats in Crisis videos feature National Park Service scientists, technicians, and educators and are online here. Cave park visitors can access the videos using “QR” codes affixed to signs, kiosks, brochures, and other media.
White-nose syndrome is caused by a cold-adapted fungus, Geomyces destructans. The disease – which is not transmittable to humans – was first observed in caves near Albany, N.Y., in the winter of 2006–2007. Since then, white-nose syndrome has spread to 18 more states and four Canadian provinces. It has been detected in seven species of hibernating bats, and G. destructans has been found on two additional species, apparently without causing white-nose syndrome.
The 10 national parks that have reported bats with white-nose syndrome are: Acadia National Park (Maine), Chesapeake and Ohio Canal National Historic Park (Washington, D.C, Md., W.Va.), Chickamauga and Chattanooga National Military Park (Ga. Tenn.), Cumberland Gap National Historical Park (Ky., Tenn., Va.), Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area (N.J., Pa.), Great Smoky Mountains National Park (N.C., Tenn.), Mammoth Cave National Park (Ky.), New River Gorge National River (W.Va.), Ozark National Scenic Riverways (Mo.), and Russell Cave National Monument (Ala.).
National parks across the country have implemented management and educational activities to help minimize the spread of the disease and work collaboratively with federal, state, tribal, and private groups to improve understanding of the disease.
For more information about white-nose syndrome in the National Park Service, visit: www.nature.nps.gov/biology/WNS/index.cfm.
For more information about white-nose syndrome in general visit: www.whitenosesyndrome.org.
Jeff
Hiking in the Smokies
Chronic Wasting Disease in White-tailed Deer: National Park Service Requests Your Input
To contact us Click HERE
Chronic wasting disease (CWD) is an infectious pathogen that has been detected in white-tailed deer populations within 22 miles of Shenandoah National Park. CWD impacts the deer’s neurological system and is eventually fatal. Park managers are already planning how they will address CWD should it infect the park’s deer population (you can click here for background information).
The National Park Service is conducting a series of public meetings to present information and gather feedback to help inform its planning process. Attendees may also submit comments in writing on forms available at the meetings, online, or by mail, as described below.
Public meetings:
March 12 – Charlottesville, VA, 7-9 pm
The Educational Building at Ivy Creek Natural Area
1780 Earlysville Road
March 13 – Harrisonburg, VA, 7-9 pm
James Madison University
Integrated Science and Technology Building
nTelos Room #259
March 14 – Washington, VA, 7-9 pm
Washington Fire Hall
10 Firehouse Lane
Submit comments online by April 30
Submit comments by mail by April 30
National Park Service
Denver Service Center
c/o Erin Flanagan
PO Box 25287
Denver, CO 80225
Jeff
Hiking in the Smokies
Chronic wasting disease (CWD) is an infectious pathogen that has been detected in white-tailed deer populations within 22 miles of Shenandoah National Park. CWD impacts the deer’s neurological system and is eventually fatal. Park managers are already planning how they will address CWD should it infect the park’s deer population (you can click here for background information).The National Park Service is conducting a series of public meetings to present information and gather feedback to help inform its planning process. Attendees may also submit comments in writing on forms available at the meetings, online, or by mail, as described below.
Public meetings:
March 12 – Charlottesville, VA, 7-9 pm
The Educational Building at Ivy Creek Natural Area
1780 Earlysville Road
March 13 – Harrisonburg, VA, 7-9 pm
James Madison University
Integrated Science and Technology Building
nTelos Room #259
March 14 – Washington, VA, 7-9 pm
Washington Fire Hall
10 Firehouse Lane
Submit comments online by April 30
Submit comments by mail by April 30
National Park Service
Denver Service Center
c/o Erin Flanagan
PO Box 25287
Denver, CO 80225
Jeff
Hiking in the Smokies
24 Şubat 2013 Pazar
Bill Friday, Virginia's gift to North Carolina
To contact us Click HERE
William Clyde "Bill" Friday was born 92 years ago in the Rockbridge County, Va. community of Raphine, but he moved with his family to North Carolina as a child -- a historic event that in time would change North Carolina for the better. Friday's contributions to the state can be measured in the progress North Carolina made in the second half of the 20th Century, when Friday's sure-handed guidance of the University of North Carolina system contributed to the state's economic progress, the increase in its college-going rate and especially in his raising the expectations of students from low- and middle-income families that at the 17-campus UNC system, it would always be possible to go to college.
Bill Friday was my friend, though I never could quite bring myself to call him "Bill." He did not have a doctorate and didn't particularly like to be called Dr. Friday, though many did. Most of the time it was simply "Mr. Friday," and many was the time when Friday would have some issue on his mind, or a suggestion for an editorial, or a story one of our reporters might tackle, and when I answered the phone, the conversation would start this way: "Hello, old friend. This is Bill Friday...."
I'll miss his friendship and guidance, and his even-handed approach, as will North Carolina, but perhaps our policymakers will keep his approach and his convictions in mind in future as they make tough decisions.
Here's a piece I wrote for today's Charlotte Observer about Mr. Friday:
http://www.charlotteobserver.com/2012/10/12/3594015/how-to-pay-debt-of-gratitude-to.html
Bill Friday was my friend, though I never could quite bring myself to call him "Bill." He did not have a doctorate and didn't particularly like to be called Dr. Friday, though many did. Most of the time it was simply "Mr. Friday," and many was the time when Friday would have some issue on his mind, or a suggestion for an editorial, or a story one of our reporters might tackle, and when I answered the phone, the conversation would start this way: "Hello, old friend. This is Bill Friday...."
I'll miss his friendship and guidance, and his even-handed approach, as will North Carolina, but perhaps our policymakers will keep his approach and his convictions in mind in future as they make tough decisions.
Here's a piece I wrote for today's Charlotte Observer about Mr. Friday:
http://www.charlotteobserver.com/2012/10/12/3594015/how-to-pay-debt-of-gratitude-to.html
Don't know if this tree made noise when it fell
To contact us Click HERE
So yesterday I noted that the howling wind from Sandy's remnants was still with us, as it is this morning, but that no trees had fallen. Yesterday afternoon, I rolled in from a trip down to Winston-Salem and saw that I was wrong -- that a three-stemmed (but long dead) locust tree had capsized after taking on too much wind.
If it blew over in the night or the day, no one heard it above the screech of the wind -- maybe because it's not big at all. I expect we'll get out the chain saws to make firewood billets and the splitter to bring it to size and the tractor to yank the stump this weekend. At least we shouldn't have to wait for the wood to season. I think it's ready now. Come to think of it, the storm did us a favor on this old tree.
If it blew over in the night or the day, no one heard it above the screech of the wind -- maybe because it's not big at all. I expect we'll get out the chain saws to make firewood billets and the splitter to bring it to size and the tractor to yank the stump this weekend. At least we shouldn't have to wait for the wood to season. I think it's ready now. Come to think of it, the storm did us a favor on this old tree.
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