Celebrating Southern Appalachian Food

Gravy holds a rarified, almost revered place in Appalachian diet. To offer a contextual example from the past, the mere thought of starting out a day without gravy for breakfast with a large-scale logging outfit, at a Civilian Conservation Corps outpost or in a remote backcountry hunting or fishing camp would have been sheer culinary sacrilege. Indeed, the often-used term sawmill gravy has its origins in the kitchens that served logging camps. Similarly, no offering of country ham without a side of red-eye gravy would pass muster. Beyond that, on a practical level, gravy has always been an ideal way to impart meat flavor while making a little meat go a long way. Some type of meat figured in the flavor picture, but the primary ingredients were flour, milk (or maybe water) and grease. All were readily available and far less expensive than even the most common cuts of meat.

Gravy was also a most satisfying and frugal way to use the byproduct of any fried meat. It did so in a manner that was filling, cost little and eminently met the oft-heard Appalachian adage of “waste not, want not.” When it came to hearty eating, gravy was a finishing touch, a blessing of tasty goodness that rendered the ordinary extraordinary or brought taste-tempting moistness to dry bread or tough meat. One measure of the importance of gravy is that a cook’s ability to make it “just right” was considered a key or defining characteristic of overall kitchen ability. To say that a cook made “mighty fine gravy” was to tender a compliment of the highest order.

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A mountain farmer readies a field with a walking plow pulled by a pair of horses. Courtesy of Hunter Library, Western Carolina University.

Many Appalachian families a few generations back were more likely to enjoy the flavor of beef in gravy than any other way. A half pound or so of the least expensive ground beef available (i.e., with the highest fat content) could be stretched a long way when made into gravy and served atop biscuits or crumbled cornbread. It was considered a real treat in my youth, possibly because it was served infrequently or thanks to being a change from the far more common offerings of pork.

Fry the burger and then drain the grease and set the meat aside. Using the hot grease as your base, make a roux by gradually adding and browning flour. Then pour in milk a bit at a time, stirring constantly as the gravy thickens. When you approach the desired consistency for the gravy, sprinkle in salt and pepper along with adding the reserved burger. Using milk as your thinning agent, reheat until the meat gravy is just right for serving. You can control the thickness of the gravy by how much flour and milk you use, and if the gravy is relatively thin, a little burger goes a long way—and still keeps the taste of beef even though the mixture is mostly milk and flour.

While there’s nothing wrong with enjoying dressing or a slice of turkey in an unadorned state, why settle for pedestrian fare when both really cry out for a lavish ladle of giblet gravy spooned over them? I’ll leave the gravy-making details to your individual tastes, but I do have a suggestion that will make gravy prepared for use with chicken or turkey meatier (and better). For example, the next time you are fortunate enough to kill a wild turkey, save not only the giblets (heart, liver and gizzard) but also all of the dark meat (legs, thighs, wings and medallions on the back). Obviously, you can do the same thing with a store-bought bird, but make sure the giblets are a part of your purchase.

Place the dark meat in a large stockpot and keep it simmering for at least a couple of hours. The dark meat of a wild turkey will never get really tender, but it will reach a point where you can readily remove it from the bones. Do so and keep the stock, as well. Chopped into small pieces and frozen with the giblets (add them in the final half hour of simmering), you have the makings of giblet gravy richly laced with nutritious bits of turkey. Combine it with some of the stock you saved, and you can produce an abundance of gravy and have the good feeling associated with fully utilizing your wild bird or getting the essence of goodness from a domestic one.

TIP: Whenever you bake a store-bought turkey, be sure to save all the juices produced. Since more often than not, such birds have had liquid added through an infusion process, there’s usually plenty of juice. Freeze any you don’t use at the time. It will come in handy as stock for soups, stews or maybe preparation of a wild bird.

Add flour to hot bacon drippings and cook over medium heat for 1 to 2 minutes or until flour is browned while stirring steadily. Season to taste with salt and pepper as the mixture cooks. Stir in tomatoes and add dash of sugar. Cover and cook over low heat until mixture thickens. Depending on how juicy the tomatoes are, you may need to add milk or water to thin the gravy to the desired consistency. This recipe is a favorite summer breakfast item in many parts of the Appalachians.

TIP: Canned tomatoes may also be used. A variation is to sauté diced onion in the bacon drippings before adding the tomatoes.

This is a great way to enjoy surplus ground beef or venison. Just brown whatever amount of meat you have, perhaps that leftover from grilling burgers or making a meatloaf, and then add milk and flour, stirring steadily, to make a milk/meat gravy. If the meat is quite lean, as will certainly be the case with venison, you will need to add a bit of cooking oil (or here’s another good use for the grease left over from frying streaked meat). Cook to desired thickness and pour over juicy slices of tomato. You can make an open-faced sandwich if you desire, but just the venison gravy and maters make mighty fine fixin’s.

Chocolate gravy is a traditional Appalachian breakfast item. My mother said her family often had it when she was a girl when there was no meat to fry for regular gravy. Since it was sweet, the children felt like it was a special treat.

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Chocolate gravy. Tipper Pressley.

Place flour in cast-iron pan on medium heat; add sugar and cocoa and mix well. Gradually add water to mixture, stirring constantly like you would for any other type of gravy. Serve over warm biscuits.

Brown cornmeal in hot fat; add other ingredients and stir until thickened. You’ve probably noticed this is not an exact recipe. I’ve found making gravy to be one of those things you have to do over and over until you figure out the method that works best for you. I add cornmeal or flour by the spoonful until I get enough in the pan to soak up all the grease as it browns. Then I add milk to my thickness preference. I like my gravy thin, so I use more milk than most folks. As the gravy cooks, you can add additional milk or water to thin it out if it gets too thick on you.

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Working a rocky field with a walking plow and an ox. Courtesy of National Park Service.

Fried sausage, bacon or fatback (quantity can vary widely, but you need enough to produce adequate drippings for gravy)

After frying meat, add 2 to 3 tablespoons of flour to drippings and allow to cook for 2 to 3 minutes while stirring constantly. Salt, pepper and other seasoning can be added at this point. As you stir, try to raise any little bits of meat that have cooked onto the pan. Doing so will ensure a very flavorful gravy. Slowly add milk to pan, stirring constantly. About 1½ cups of milk is usually needed, but of course, that will be adjusted according to the amount of grease you have. I like my gravy on the thin side, so after it cooks about 5 minutes, if I need to adjust the thickness, I add a little more milk to thin it out. Serve over warm biscuits.

This is the easiest gravy to make! Fry country ham in a cast-iron pan. Remove from pan once browned on both sides. Pour hot coffee into the hot drippings and stir while scraping bottom of pan. Allow to simmer for a few minutes, and it’s ready to eat. Pour over hot biscuits and enjoy!

TIP: Some folks who don’t particularly like coffee substitute water in the gravy-making process.