People who knew my mother appreciated her intelligent and unique sense of humor. Displays of affection in our home were in short supply and almost always awkward, one way we knew how to say "I love you" was to be funny. My mother and I could quickly have each other in big belly laughs simply by repeating the same old joke, with the familiar tag line that never failed. For example,
"What's the weather in Mexico? Chili today, hot tamale..." Drums please. Dear ones, remember it was the Seventies and even my politically correct mother had her limits. It is a silly joke but we would be in tears laughing by surprising the other with it at the right time. This joke is particularly endearing because it reminds me of my mother's time in Southern California, where I was born and her trip to Mexico which she talked about well into my adulthood.
My mother and father met in Los Angeles and my mother's cooking and love of diverse food was heavily influenced by her time in California. She introduced me to avocados, tacos, and yes, tamales. In the seventies, in rural West Virginia, such foods bordered on exotic. But one culinary staple that has West coast influences was enjoyed by many in Spencer at the time, chili.
My mom was an average cook. She made some great things and some things that will never be forgotten for their impact. I never forgave her for the Spam she presented as dinner, a makeshift ham with cloves and pineapple on it. She was so proud of herself and I was so horrified! She defended that dish for years, as I could never let her forget it. But my mom made good chili. It wasn't unusual or unique in any way, just good comfort food. She'd buy a loaf of french bread and we'd dip that bread into the chili and oh my it was heaven.
Although she'd make that chili every winter, it was a kick off dish to the Fall and to a special event from the childhood of most Roane Countians, the Black Walnut Festival (BWF). Spencer's BWF is festive occasion in the life of the town where people come from all over the surrounding counties, as well as other states to partake of a multitude of delicacies made with Black Walnuts, exceptional bluegrass and gospel music, arts and crafts showcasing skills that are slowly and sadly going by the wayside in our technological age, as well as being a showcase for the agricultural successes of the young people in the area. It is planned for the entire year. I remember being in 4-H and working on my projects year round, trying to figure out what I would enter in the festival, hoping for that blue ribbon (I still have ALL my 4-H ribbons, blue and otherwise!).
We lived in town, close enough to walk to everything and close enough to run home and don a sweater or take off a sweater, sometimes it was 70 degrees, sometimes it was pouring down rain. Or maybe we dropped off the goodies that had been won at the annual carnival as well as other festival treats hat had been purchased. We knew it would be another year before we saw funnel cakes, boar roast, and cherry cokes (not on the shelves at the time) again so we stocked up. We also needed respite sometimes from the cacophony. Spencer is happily a sleepy little town and the festival with all its wonders and influx of new faces can sometimes be overwhelming. I knew I could go home for a bowl of my mom's chili at anytime. Even after I was in college she would make chili if she knew I was coming.
You see, the festival is a time of homecoming for those of us fortunate enough to make our way back. It's been almost ten years since my last Black Walnut Festival. The Saturday parade, pancake breakfast, annual Nut Run, and rows of other festival foods provide a social backdrop like no other. There is no high school reunion that can come close to providing the smorgasbord of events and familiar lovely faces that can be seen during the festival. While eating a funnel cake, you might look up and see a friend who you have not seen in twenty years. It is well worth the trip. If you've never been I invite you to click on the link and soak some of it up for yourself. Just seeing the picture of the carnival on the front page makes my heart soar.
Lately, those of us who can't make it can now witness it on Facebook and other social media. Which is exactly what I did yesterday dear ones, The Farmer sick with pneumonia, I was housebound, watching pictures of the parade go up as it was happening, and happily soaking up all the status updates of the events and goings on. The best part? Seeing pictures go up of friends who have not seen each other for a while, smiling, hugging, eyes shining with happiness. Although it makes the heart a bit sad, what a joy to see those faces again. And of course I thought of Leith's chili.
So this piece is dedicated to those of us, flung far and wide, who pine for the Black Walnut Festival each year. I remember the smell of the leaves, their crunchiness under my quick steps, the vibrant colors, hearing the carnival music as I got closer to town. Oh I couldn't wait the five minutes it took to get there! And I remember Leith's chili, especially the single small pot reserved just for me that didn't have the kidney beans in it, and I am reminded that my broken mama did the best she could to say "I love you", in all her brokenness.
More will be revealed...
