For some reason, I can’t make it through Monday Night Football. I wake up hearing the highlights…then I’m up for another three hours. Does that happen to any of you?

So I’m up. Researching, thinking, and preparing for persimmon.

Fullsteam’s mission isn’t all that different from any other craft brewer. We’re all trying to get you, the potential consumer, to realize that beer goes well beyond “fizzy yellow.”

What makes us different? For us, the vehicle for conversation is Southern agriculture. We ferment the providence of the Southern sun, expanding beyond fizzy yellow to the rich hues of the harvest: verdant green basil. Mahogany fig. Burnt hickory. Banana-hued paw paw. Rhubarb red, green, and white.

Are we trying something new? Yes and no.

Yes, in that we’re carving a niche that few others have attempted. (Side story: a friend of mine from Pennsylvania was explaining our concept to a fellow Northerner, who said to him, “They’re trying to make Southern beer? And their flagship is a steam beer, not a Pale or IPA? How many ways are they trying to go out of business?”)

No, in that all this has been done before. All what again? Southerners making beer with what’s local. As in, their backyard.

(Full disclosure: I’ve lived in North Carolina 17 years…longer than any other place I’ve lived. Not yet half my life. So I’m not a Southerner or a Tar Heel. But I ain’t movin’.)

Witness the 1913 antebellum anthem “Dishes and Beverages of the Old South” and its recipe for Persimmon beer:

PERSIMMON BEER (1913):

The poor relation of champagne–with the advantage that nobody is ever the worse for drinking it.

To make it, take full-ripe persimmons, the juicier the better, free them of stalks and calyxes, then mash thoroughly, and add enough wheat bran or middlings to make a stiffish dough.

Form the dough into thin, flat cakes, which bake crisp in a slow oven.

When cold break them up in a clean barrel, and fill it with filtered rainwater.

A bushel of persimmons before mashing will make a barrel of beer.

Set the barrel upright, covered with a thin cloth, in a warm, dry place, free of taints. Let stand until the beer works–the persimmon cakes will rise and stand in a foamy mass on top.

After three to four weeks, either move the barrel to a cold place, or rack off the beer into bottles or demijohns, tieing down the corks, and keeping the bottled stuff very cool. The more meaty and flavorous the persimmons, the richer will be the beer.

Beware of putting in fruit that has not felt the touch of frost, so retains a rough tang. A very little of it will spoil a whole brewing of beer. If the beer is left standing in the barrel a wooden cover should be laid over the cloth, after it is done working.

Fermentation can be hastened by putting in with the persimmon cakes a slice of toast dipped in quick yeast. But if the temperature is right, the beer will ferment itself.

Now I’m not sure what a “warm, dry place free of taints” is, but I do know this: making “Southern Ag” beer like Persimmon ale is nothing new under the sun. It’s as old as Souse and Hog’s Foot Oil, Barbecued Rabbit, Squirrel Smothered, Possum Roasted, Molasses Pie, and Blackberry Mush (recipes also found in the free-to-download Dishes and Beverages).

But we’re also wise to another historical fact — one that I’m sure “contrarian historian” Maureen Ogle will appreciate.  (Maureen, if you’re reading this, that’s both tongue-in-cheek and a tribute to your disinterested research.)  Persimmon beer didn’t taste that great. Especially when the lagers of Germany and Eastern Europe found their way down South. Maybe it’s better to say that persimmon beer “fell out of favor,” as Americans en masse turned away from the local, homemade, and inconsistent to the more fail-proof and inoffensive.

Perhaps North Carolina playwright and activist Paul Green penned it best.

“Man never could drink enough to get drunk on it, and now that legitimate beer has come in, making of persimmon beer has just about passed out.” (source)

Perhaps we live in a different era.

That is the great experiment; the vehicle for conversation.

We continue our exploration into the possibility of kudzu beer. Today, it’s all about the flowers. Check out the video and pass the link along if you feel led!

Next up: a trip to Rutherfordton, where I learn from the kudzu experts.

Trivia time…who’s the band featured in the beginning of the video? Post it if you know it!

Kudzu is amazing! It’s a weed, but according to the Internets, it can do (and cure) just about anything! Here are the top five claims about kudzu as found on the series of tubes:

1. It’s a “weed that whacks binge drinking!”

2. It can make women’s ta-tas bigger! (Clearly this will be the most clicked link)

3. Is it tasteless, so you can

“easily administer [it] to someone without his/her knowledge (ex. teenager with alcohol problem). Just open 2 capsules and put contents into a soup, cereal, or any cooked meal!” [source]

4. It can be made into an artsy tomato red bean paste dessert that no one will ever eat!

5. It cures the following:

• “…headache with a feeling of heaviness in the head,
• fever,
• dryness of mouth,
• bitter taste in the mouth, (us: blend it into a double IPA?)
• blisters in the mouth,
• canker sores,
• swollen gums,
• bad breath,
• dry and uncomfortable feeling in the throat, (cue “The Office” reference)
• bloodshot eyes,
• pain during urination,
• drunkenness and hangover, (yea yea tell us something we don’t know),
• fever and headache,
• stiffness and soreness in the neck,
• inadequate eruption of measles,
• diarrhea,
• dysentery,
• hypertension,
• angina pectoris,
• migraine,
• sudden deafness,
• diabetes,
• nasal sinusitis,
• urticaria (otherwise known as hives),
• psoriasis, and
• itching.

[source]

I SAID SUDDEN DEAFNESS!

* Disclaimer: this is all in fun. Even though I found these uses for kudzu on the Internet, Fullsteam is not claiming any health benefits associated with the vine. In fact, we’re kind of making fun of all of these examples — except for perhaps the scientific controlled study cited in #1, which is truly interesting and may have some real-world uses.

Oh, and we’d totally eat the red bean tomato aspic.

Ruh-thfud-tun.

It’s not “Ruh-ther-ford-tun,” but Ruh-thfud-tun. Or, more accurately, Ruhthfudtun.

Southerners may talk slowly, but for some reason the names of towns are often said in hyper-speed: Saxpihaw. Tuhbacavile. Ruhthfudtun. (Then again, nearby Siler City is Siiiigh-lerrrrrrr Cit-tee. Go figure.)

Alas, Day 2 of the Kudzu Chronicles takes us to Rutherfordton – not (yet) by car, but a few calls for information.

A few months back, when I was first researching kudzu, I spoke with Henry and Edith Edwards, owners of Kudzu Cow Farms in Rutherfordton. She’s the Kudzu Queen of North Carolina, known for her Kudzu Blossom Jelly; he harvests and bales kudzu for cattle feed. They’re both incredibly passionate about redeeming this misunderstood, maligned vine. We had a great initial conversation about kudzu, and I promised that I’d call them back once the kudzu was about to flower.

So, yesterday, I pick up the phone and dial the farm. Wrong number. I look online — the number I had for them was the one listed online pretty consistently. I was a bit worried.

A bit of poking on the series of tubes (“kudzu” and “Rutherfordton”), and I found the Farmers Fresh Market, which sells Mrs. Edwards’ Kudzu jelly online. You can order some if you’re interested!

The Farmers Fresh Market is an initiative of Foothills Connect, a public-private partnership that aims to help rebuild Rutherford County’s farming community. Over the past two decades, the region has been hard-hit to due to severe declines in North Carolina’s textile industry. The county is attempting to redefine its core expertise (and rebuild its economy) by rebuilding local farms and connecting farmers to Charlotte grocery stores and restaurateurs.

I read up on Farmers Fresh and gave them a call. A bit nervous, I did my best to explain to Anna (who was very kind and gracious) why I was seeking the phone number for Edith and Henry Edwards. The benefit of having to explain myself? I got to tell her a bit more about what we’re trying to do — and I found out that the Farmers Fresh program might be something for Fullsteam to consider, particularly as we seek out local suppliers.

Anna was very kind and provided me with the correct phone number. A few rings later, I’m talking once again to Mr. Edwards, the hardest-working 85-year-old I know. I caught him in a rare down moment: he had finished up baling the kudzu for the day and was relaxing in his home.

Mr. Edwards recalled our conversation a few months back. He spoke with pride of his work ethic. The fact that they don’t rely on air conditioning. And his obvious pride working with kudzu. I enjoyed my talk with him — we spoke for twenty-or-so minutes. The warm sun beating on me in the future “indoor/outdoor” section of the Fullsteam warehouse…a refreshing cool breeze through the open garage door.

He reminded me that he and his wife are Methodists, but that they don’t begrudge anyone their choices. I wish I knew more abstainers like them — seems like most of the teetotalers I deal in North Carolina with want to impose their opinions on everyone else.

We’re scheduled to meet at the farm on Thursday, though I need to check in with the Edwards on Monday to inquire about the weather, which may impact his availability. I’m taking the family back to Rutherfordton, where we were just a month ago coming back from a quick getaway to Chimney Rock.  I’m excited to ask the Edwards about harvesting the root…seek out secrets for maximizing the flower’s fragrance…and frankly, just to meet a fascinating couple.

Chris and I are looking forward to the reward from toiling and physical labor. Now, mind you, nothing will match the Edwards’ 60 years of dedicated farming, though I do have a long-term vision of managing and harvesting our own crops. But Fullsteam Farms is a long way away. For now, I’ll relish in the thought of an aching back from lifting grain and hauling kegs. And continue to cook up some ideas for kudzu.

Even though the Edwards’ don’t drink beer, we share in common the passion for redemption: we’re both fighting to redeem an oft-misunderstood agricultural product, showcasing its beauty and purpose.

Henry and Elizabeth Edwards on WUNC radio
(also in this clip: the late Doug Marlette,  author of the comic strip “Kudzu” and another North Carolina treasure.)

Tomorrow: tea time

The kudzu adventure begins with a few phone calls and emails.

Law. As an alcoholic beverage, beer is regulated by a number of state and federal entities. At the federal level, the primary regulatory overseers are the Trade and Tax Bureau (TTB) and the Food and Drug Administration (FDA). Lest we start the Kudzu Chronicles with an eyes-glazing treatice on the nuances of regulation, I’ll break it down like this: the FDA ensures that beer is not brewed with any prohibited ingredients; the TTB does just about everything else (approving operations, taxing, label approval, etc.).

So I figured I’d start with the TTB. Beyond kudzu, it’s important to get that relationship going — after all, they’re the authority that will ultimately approve of our brewery operations!

I was somewhat surprised at how quickly my call was answered. No running around in circles with automated voice response systems — just a friendly, “Hello, this is Michael. How can I help you?”

Turns out Michael W. was not only able to answer our questions about kudzu, but he’ll also be Fullsteam’s designated review agent. (The TTB works in alphabetical order — he’s a D through L guy, as I recall…hey Lonerider, let me know if you have any insights!). As for the kudzu question, Michaal confirmed that it’s not on the list of FDA prohibited ingredients.  We still have a lot to learn about label disclosure and design, but at least the ingredient itself appears to be commercially viable.

Medicine. Not to harp too much on regulation — I am a recovering policy wonk, after all — but did you know that breweries can’t make medicinal claims or health benefits regarding their products? That federal law makes it challenging for some breweries attempting to carve out unique niches.

Why do I mention health benefits? As it turns out, a few recent medical studies — one of which was led by a UNC researcher — have demonstrated that kudzu may curb the desire for alcohol among heavy drinkers:

“Findings show that subjects who took kudzu drank an average of 1.8 beers per session, compared with the 3.5 beers consumed by those who took a placebo.”

Source

I thought that was interesting, so yesterday I wrote to the UNC researcher and introduced myself. I was curious to see what form the kudzu took. A part of me was hoping those mad scientists were home-brewing a kudzu beer, but his response was much more staid: turns out the standard medical practice is to mix in some powdered kudzu, typically imported from China. Not exactly “local Southern ag,” but hey, that wasn’t the point of their study. He was kind enough to forward my email to his colleagues in Boston to see where they get their goods.

And while the “curbing effect” is certainly interesting, it’s not why we’re exploring kudzu beer. We experimenting with kudzu because it seems like fun. It’s Southern, but with a crazy history. It smells nice. And it just might make a really tasty beer.

But knowing that there’s this possible weird curbing effect (one that we can’t direcly promote), I can’t help but think of some fun names for the beer:

• Curb Appeal
• Gettin’ Sipsy
• Just One…No Really, I Mean It
• Delicious! I Never Want It Again!

Got anything better?

Tomorrow: Rutherfordton