A Taste of Home: How Pepperoni Rolls Connect Me to My Roots
The official state food of West Virginia, pepperoni rolls are a staple for funerals, wakes, and periods of convalescence. Southerners bring casseroles in times of crisis; West Virginians bring pepperoni rolls.
The recipe in its simplest form is bread dough and sliced stick pepperoni. Some people make their own dough; some people use frozen rolls. (Bridgford is the only acceptable brand to use). Some folks like to add cheese to their pepperoni rolls, but in my family that’s tantamount to blasphemy.
Chili Dogs and Family Roots: Exploring the Legacy of Our Beloved Recipe
But the one thing on the menu that kept people coming back to Griffin’s Bar-B-Cue was the chili sauce. In West Virginia, hot dog chili sauce is king. The whole state has an obsession with the dog topper that borders on the obsessive. Strict rules differentiate “chili sauce” from “chili.” It’s always called chili sauce, it never contains beans, it must be a tiny bit sweet (to counteract the saltiness of the dog), and it must always include ground beef simmered in water - never browned first.
Moonshine Days
Moonshine, the Southern elixir of life, has many names — some disparaging, some inspiring: corn mash, white lightning, hooch, bathtub gin.
My Own Dutch House
Nestled in a narrow alleyway amongst twisty-turny streets, the Ferguson Street house has long captured my imagination. When I was small, I reveled in discovering its secrets: a dark basement with tapered stairs lined with jars of canned goods, culminating in an honest-to-God black cauldron used for apple butter and sauce; a seldom-used parlor with two vintage organs, imposing as dark sentinels in their watchfulness over the space; a converted attic where my great-uncle slept, a place I was granted access to only once in my life.
Typing Takes Us to the City
What makes a person a trailblazer? Must they be defined by their immigration to a harsh terrain or an undiscovered land?
My mom calls my aunt Barbara a trailblazer, a pathfinder, though she certainly never completed any of the stereotypical feats of one. My aunt doesn’t see herself as anything brave or special, though she did leave the hills and hollers of southern West Virginia at the tender age of 17 to move to Washington, D.C. My mom insists she never would have had the courage to leave if my aunt hadn’t paved the way.