Revisiting Scuppernongs

Somewhere deep in the South, July 21, 2024:

I have written about native American “slip-skin” grapes so many times in the past that it seems redundant to repeat my musings now. An essay I wrote thirty-five years ago appeared in the anthology of my work, Charleston to Phnom Penh, published last year by the University of South Carolina Press. Alas, scuppernongs and muscadines are appearing in the markets now, and I thought I would revisit these favored, truly American fruits. Some of this appeared in my first book, Hoppin’ John’s Lowcountry Cooking, published in 1992 and still in print.

The summer after my maternal grandfather died, I visited my grandmother in western Tennessee. I was twelve. On the border of the woods beyond Grandma’s garden, vines of wild purple muscadines and tawny scuppernongs — each a variety of native Vitis rotundifolia — could be found trailing up into the trees, entwined with reddish catawbas, a variety of Vitis labrusca, which probably escaped from 19th century cultivation. We would spread old sheets beneath the vines to catch falling grapes as we pulled vines down through the limbs. We didn’t worry that the birds left us but a few grapes, because her concords were trained along the fence and on an arbor.

Making grape preserves that summer with my grandmother remains one of my favorite memories, and I look forward each year to the however brief season, which varies from state to state, when I can buy them. You used to only find them in farmers’ markets and roadside stands, but yesterday I found them in a supermarket.

Early English accounts of the Carolina coast speak of vines so fragrant that they were smelled days before the boats reached land. Nowadays, agricultural spraying that coincides with the vines’ blooming often prevents the fruit from setting. Fortunately, both scuppernongs and muscadines have taken well to cultivation, and are widely available in the Deep South during the season from late July to September. A delightful sweet, naturally fermented muscadine wine is made from the grape.

Basic to my grandmother’s ideology was “waste not, want not.” She would be proud that I know wonderful uses for those vines we would pull down, and for the grape leaves as well. Greeks were among the earliest of the settlers in the Lowcountry, and many culinary traditions thought of as purely Southern — such as watermelon rind preserves — have long histories in the Mediterranean, whence they came. Charleston’s Greek Orthodox Ladies Philoptochos Society first published its excellent Popular Greek Recipes in 1957, including instructions for canning grapevine leaves. Leaves are best gathered in the spring and early summer, when they are large and bright green. The fruits mature in late summer. Then, in the fall, just as the leaves begin to drop, vines can be pulled down — while they are still somewhat green and flexible — for use in wreaths or cut into foot-long twigs for grilling. If there are hunters in your family, have them bring home some vines when they are out in the woods in the fall. The bright yellow and red leaves are unmistakable.

The English had embraced Indian chutneys and Southeast Asian pickling techniques when Charleston was settled; the French settlers were long enamored of exotic nutmeg, cloves, cinnamon, allspice, white pepper and ginger (ingredients in their “quatre épices”). Spiced grapes are a typical condiment that appeared naturally in the Lowcountry. In India, the seeds of grapes are often ground into chutneys, but the seeds of our native slip-skin varieties are far too bitter for the American palate. If you do not live in the Lowcountry, look for any slip-skin variety available in your area. Concords are delicious in traditional southern recipes, but as they are sweeter than scuppernongs, you may wish to add a bit of lemon peel and juice when using them in southern recipes, and to reduce the sugar.

Preserved Grapevine Leaves

Gather 50 to 75 leaves in early summer when they are still tender. Wash them well and stack them in piles of ten leaves per pile. Roll each little pile of leaves into a cigar shape. Add 1/2 cup of salt to 2 quarts of water and bring to a boil. Add the rolls of leaves to the brine, turn off the heat, and, using tongs, place the rolls into a sterlilized wide-mouth pint jar, packing it tightly. Pour the brine in to fill the jar 1/4 inch from the rim. Seal. When ready for use, remove a roll of leaves, unrollпїЅ it, and place in a bowl of warm water for easy handling. Rinse each leaf well before using. If you find that your leaves are too tough, simmer them for ten minutes in water. After opening, store the jar in the refigerator. Use for Dolmades (see below).

Stuffed Grape Leaves (Dolmades)

Dolmades are a traditional Lenten food from Greece — vine leaves stuffed with rice, and simmered in a little oil, lemon juice, and water. I like to make them as an appetizer before a meal of mutton or lamb, using a rice steamer to cook them. In place of the water, I use leftover gumbo or fish, shrimp, or chicken stock to flavor the rice. (Vegetable stock may be used during Lent.) A half a cup of raw rice moistened with the stock will fill two dozen rolls of leaves. I tuck a freshly peeled small shrimp inside each roll as well, add all the rolled, stuffed leaves to the steamer, cover with extra stock or gumbo, and steam until the rice is tender, about twenty minutes. The dolmades may be cooked in a pot on top of the stove or in the oven, very slowly, for about 45 minutes.

If you buy brined leaves, let them sit in warm tap water for about 10 minutes to make them pliable. The following formula will fill 24 leaves. If you use fresh leaves, parboil them for 4 or 5 minutes, until they turn dark.

To make 24 dolmades, combine 1/2 cup long-grain white rice, 1/2 cup of stock, 1/3 cup olive oil, 1/2 cup finely chopped onion, a tablespoon of finely chopped fresh parsley, and the juice of a lemon in a saucepan. Bring to a boil over high heat, stirring constantly. Lower the heat immediately and simmer, uncovered, for about 10 minutes, until most of the liquid is absorbed.

Place the leaves smooth side down on a work surface. If you are adding small, peeled shrimp to the dolmades, place a teaspoon of the rice mixture and a shrimp in the center of a leaf; without the shrimp, double the amount of rice. Fold in the sides of the leaf, then roll it up, burrito style, but not too tight, because the rice will expand. Repeat for each leaf, arranging them in layers in a heavy saucepan or baking dish that has a lid. Add another 1/2 cup of stock, cover the pot, and cook very slowly until most of the liquid is absorbed and the rice is tender, adding water if necessary. It will take about 20 minutes on top of the stove; about 45 in a 325^o oven. Sprinkle heavily with lemon juice and lemon zest and serve at room temperature.

Spiced Grapes

The recipe for spiced grapes which appears in Charleston Receipts is found throughout the South in cookbooks which antedate the Lowcountry classic. The tradition of serving spiced fruits with meats, in fact, goes back to Medieval England, with its spiced barberries. Without the cranberries of northern bogs, it is far more likely that early Charleston settlers served local grapes with their fall harvest feasts of venison and wild fowl. I make spiced grapes in much smaller batches than called for in the older recipes, reducing the sugar and spice and adding some onion and lemon juice and rind.

2 pounds slip-skin grapes

1 teaspoon Quatre-épices (see January 2007)

3/4 cup vinegar

1/2 pound sugar

1 onion, chopped (about 3/4 cup)

the grated rind and juice of a lemon

Remove any stems of the grapes, then pulp them by squeezing them with the stem end pointed down into a saucepan. The pulp of the fruit will pop out. Set the skins aside. Add the spices and the vinegar to the pot and cook over medium heat until the seeds loosen, about five or ten minutes. Pass the mixture through a colander to remove the seeds, then return the vinegar and pulp mixture to the pot. Add the skins and the chopped onion and bring to a boil, then add the sugar and continue to cook until thick. Put the spiced grapes in a sterilized jar and seal.

Yields approximately 1 pint.

Grape Preserves

Many cookbooks tell us that grapes do not have enough pectin to jell, but this is simply not true of the native slip-skin varieties. If you follow a few simple guidelines, jelly-making is both easy and a sure success. First, don’t try to make big batches of jelly, and second, be sure to include the skins (where the pectin is) or at least one fourth of the volume in green, unripe fruit. There is really no mystique to jelly-making at all, just a bit of patience. The jelly test is described in innumerable cookbooks — and none of them can replace experience. Quite simply, the jellying point is reached when the jelly spills off a spoon in a sheet rather than drops. You also may test your kitchen thermometer to see at exactly what temperature water boils, then take the jelly to exactly 8 degrees over that temperature. If you remove your fruit from the fire before it has jelled, don’t despair: you can always reduce it for a sauce or serve it over pancakes and waffles. If you cook it too long, so that it is rubbery, you can add some Bourbon or Scotch to it or melt it either alone or with a little wine and seasonings and use it as a glaze or in a quick, stove-top chutney.

Grape Jelly

The first day:

4 cups slip-skin grapes, at least 1/4 of which are unripe

1/4 cup water

Stem and crush the grapes, add to the water in a large pot, bring to a boil, and simmer for 15 minutes. Strain all of the juice out of the mixture and allow to sit overnight.

The next day:

Strain the juice again to remove the tartrate crystals which should have settled out during the night, clinging to the bottom and sides of the container. Measure the juice and add 1/2 the volume of juice in sugar. In a heavy kettle, boil rapidly until the jelly sheets from a cold metal spoon or until the mixture is 220^o. Pour the jelly into hot sterilized jars and seal.

Grape Jam

Jam includes the tart skins of grapes and is far more flavorful than clear jellies. Remove the skins from the grapes, and, if desired, run them through a grinder or chop them in a blender or processor (I leave mine whole).

Cook the skins of the grapes very gently for 15-20 minutes, adding the slightest amount of water necessary to keep them from sticking to the pot. Cook the pulp until the seeds loosen, then run the pulp through a colander to remove the seeds. Add the pulp to the skins, and measure. Add 3/4 the quantity in sugar, and cook the entire mixture rapidly, about 10 minutes. Continue cookingпїЅ until the jellying point is reached, stirring often to prevent sticking. Pour into hot sterilized jars and seal.

Grape Pie

This is my favorite pie, though many people have never heard of it. It is a Lowcountry classic. Some people use wheat flour or instant tapioca to thicken fruit pies, but rice flour is tasteless and disappears, utterly transparently, into the fruit juices. If you can’t find it, use cornstarch.It was Kelly Bugden, a brilliant pastry chef as well as an accomplished photographer (he took the photos for Hoppin’ John’s Charleston, Beaufort & Savannah), who taught me his wonderful technique of making pie crust. Alas, I am never satisfied with my results unless I use lard. You may use butter or another solid shortening — or a combination — if you will, but be sure to have everything as cold as possible and to maintain the ratio of 4:1 (in weight) for flour to shortening.

If you use Concords in this recipe, add a little lemon zest and juice for flavor. The photo shows a Concord pie I made in Washington DC in 2009.

For the crust:

1 pound flour (about 4 cups)

pinch of salt

1 tablespoon sugar

1/4 pound chilled lard (or any combination of lard,shortening, and/or butter)

1/2 cup water, plus ice cubes

Sift the flour with the salt and the sugar into a large mixing bowl. Add a few ice cubes to the measured water and set aside. Cut the lard into the flour with a pastry blender, a large fork,пїЅ or two knives, until the mixture is uniform and, as the old cookbooks say, it resembles small peas. Do not touch the dough with your hands. Place a wet towel under the bowl so that it will not slide around on the counter. Working deftly, scoop up large spoonsful of the mixture from the bottom of the bowl with a metal slotted spoon while sprinkling water into the mixture a little at a time. Work quickly as you “lift in” the water, stopping before all the water is in. You should stop the second you feel the dough will hold together without more water. Now grab the entire mass of dough up in your hands and push it all together into a ball. If the pie filling is ready, wrap the dough in some wax paper or plastic wrap and put it in the freezer for ten minutes; otherwise put the wrapped dough in the refrigerator to chill while you prepare the fruit.

For the filling:

4 cups slip-skin grapes such as Muscadine, Scuppernong,or Concord– about 1-3/4 pounds

3/4 cup sugar

1/2 tablespoon rice flour (from natural foods store, not the Southeast Asian kind) or cornstarch

optional: grated citrus rind and lemon juice

Pulp the grapes by squeezing them over a pot. Reserve the skins. Cook the pulp for about five minutes, just enough to loosen the seeds. Press the pulp through a colander to remove the seeds. Combine the pulp with the skins, the sugar, and the rice flour. If the grapes are very sweet, such as ripe concords, you may add a little citrus peel and juice for flavor. The skins of scuppernongs, however, are very tart on their own.

For the pie:

reserved pastry dough and filling

milk or half-and-half

sugar

Preheat the oven to 450^o. Remove the pastry dough from the freezer or refrigerator and place on a large, lightly floured surface. Try not to touch it with your hands. Roll it out evenly to a thickness of 1/8″. Place a 9″ pie plate on top of the dough and, with a blunt knife, cut across the dough so that an area large enough to fill the pie plate is marked off as one large piece. Set the pie plate off to the side. Place the rolling pin on one edge of this large piece of dough, and gently roll it up off the surface and onto the pin. Lay the dough down in the pie plate, allowing it to roll off the pin, and always avoiding handling the dough. Press it lightly into place, allowing any excess dough to hang over the sides. Fill with the fruit.

Cut the remaining dough into long strips and gently make a lattice top on the pie. Run a sharp knife blade at an angle around the rim of the pie plate, trimming excess dough off. Brush the top of the pie crust lightly with milk or half-and-half, then crimp the edge of the pie crust down with a large fork. Sprinkle the pie lightly all over with a little sugar and place in the middle of the preheated oven and bake for ten minutes, lower the heat to 350^oand bake for another 20 or 30 minutes,пїЅ or until the crust is nicely browned all over. Be sure to bake the pie well so that the crust will not be soggy. If you have clear glass pie plates, you can leave the pie in until the bottom has begun to brown. Don’t worry about the timing. All ovens and batches of flour bake differently. Bake the pie until it is a rich golden brown and it will be delicious. Allow the pie to cool to lukewarm before serving. Do NOT serve this pie with cream, or you will mask the distinctive grape flavor.

Sorbet

When I first wrote about Frank Lee thirty years ago, he was one  of a handful of Charleston chefs who were actually southern (and a native South Carolinian to boot!). Frank taught me to make sorbet according to an ancient French method:

Grind your fruit, strain it well, and add sugar syrup till it floats an egg. Freeze and serve.

He taught me the method after I tasted his incomparably delicious, sweet and sour sorbet made from local muscadines that he served me at Slightly North of Broad in Charleston many years ago.

Muscadines, scuppernongs, catawbas, and concords are native American “slip-skin” varieties of grapes that are known for their tough and tart skins and their insanely sweet flesh that clings to the seeds. For pies and tarts, the skinning and seeding of the grapes is a real labor of love, But for sorbet, you simply grind the grapes, seeds and all, in a food processor and strain it well. Two pounds of grapes will yield about 2 cups of juice.

Sugar syrup is made by dissolving sugar in half the same quantity of water. I put the sugar in a pan on the stove and being heating it while stirring, stopping the second that all the sugar crystals are dissolved, then setting it aside to completely cool. A cup of sugar dissolved in ½ cup of water will yield about 1-1/2 cups of sugar syrup. It only takes about 1-1/4 cups of syrup to float an egg in 2 cups of muscadine juice. You can store leftover syrup tightly sealed in a sterilized, covered jar in the refrigerator, but I’m not sure for how long. I’ve had sugar syrup last for months; other times it has molded, so do be sure to sterilize the jar and lid.

Use a fresh egg in the shell and lower it down into an upright container such as a plastic pitcher holding the fruit juice. Slowly pour the cooled sryup into the juice while stirring gently. As the sugar density increases, the egg will rise to the surface. Stop adding syrup when about ¼ of the egg floats above the surface. The sorbet mixture will probably taste very sweet, but will not taste as sweet when it is frozen.

I simply freeze the sorbet in my Donvier hand-cranked ice cream maker that I store in my freezer. Follow the instructions on your machine, or, if you don’t have one, you can freeze the sorbet in a metal bowl, opening the freezer every ten minutes and whisking it with a heavy whisk, until it has reached the desired consistency. Store in airtight plastic containers in the freezer and eat as soon as possible.

When I have houseguests, I always like to have a big tub of cut-up fruit in the refrigerator for breakfast. I typically cut up cantaloupe, oranges, and pineapple. Sometimes I add mango and/or berries. And I always add fresh banana, but only as it’s served. If there is any left over, I remove any banana pieces.

 

 

After my guests have left, I puree the cut up fruit (adding more if necessary) to make a mixed fruit sorbet, following these guidelines. If the fruit is less than ripe, poach it in the sugar syrup (and peaches, pears, and plums will always taste better if poached first). If you want your sorbet to be creamy, add a touch of alcohol (such as raspberry liqueur or a flavored vodka), but go lightly: too much alcohol will keep the sorbet from freezing, the way too much sugar will. The sorbet in the photo was made from three-day-old fruit salad of melon, oranges, pineapple, and blackberries pureed with a splash of Triple Sec. I added about 1/2 cup of sugar syrup to a cup of pureed fruit. When it just began to taste too sweet, I stopped adding syrup and froze the mixture. It’s delicious.

You can add herbs for intriguing flavors, but it’s best, I’ve found, to add them to the sugar syrup just as it the crystals melt. You can remove the herbs after the syrup has cooled. I also like to use lavender sugar (see November 12, 2007) to make the syrup.

On Pronunciation:

If you’re not native and find yourself down South and want to try these grapes, you might want to pronounce them the way we do. Muscadine is simple, though some country folk say “musky dine.” Neither the R nor the G is pronounced in scuppernong. It’s more at scup uh non. Some oldtimers call all of these grapes “bullaces,” but bullace is a misnomer for vitis rotundifolia grapes because a bullace is a kind of Old World plum or sloe (as in sloe-gin) that grows on a tree similar to a blackthorn. They don’t grow wild in the U.S. and don’t do well in the Southeast.

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