2012-08-25_015

grain-fed

Legs. That’s what they called her. She packed the grinder, her six kids and a bag of barley and headed for a hollow in the hills of Kentucky. Three thousand miles and no food save for some milk souring in her oft-trampled bosom. On arrival, she clamped the metal contraption to a beam that held up the dirt floor cabin, fattened the fire. Her upright children whipped the handle one by one to see who could fill a bread pan full of flour fastest. Pancakes griddled on the wood stove. Legs boiled down sorghum from the cane she had harvested in the fields. After feasting, her heavily biceped offspring hoisted themselves through the glassless windows and leapt into the woods.

Coconut Frozen Custard

Recipe by Brenda Anderson Photography by Chia Chong Styling by Libbie Summers Food Stylist’s Assistant and Model: Candace Brower  A tropical brain freeze.  Coconut Frozen Custard serves 4  Ingredients: 4 […]

A Man, His Hands, And a Bag of Oysters

I have this habit of looking at people’s hands like I’m looking for clues. I find they reveal so much more than most people are willing to offer. They tell a story.

As Vincent Hooper hauls 50-pound burlap sacks of oysters, I can’t help but notice that his hands are big—too big for his average size, as if they grew in spite of him. His fingers look swollen and ashy around the joints and cuticles. The skin across the backs of his hands stretch tight, like leather gloves that are too small and worn to offer any real protection.