I grew up in eastern North Carolina. My paternal grandfather owned a dairy operation. Every Saturday the manager would drop off 2-3 gallons of raw milk when he came into town. Mom would pour it off into half gallon mason jars to let the cream rise before making butter in the Kitchen Aid mixer. The buttermilk was either drunk or used in baking.
He had an acre each of blueberries and Scuppernong/ Muscadine grapes. We would pick them and mom, with our help, would make jelly from the grapes and put up the blueberries in quart containers premixed with flour, sugar, and cinnamon before freezing them. All winter a blueberry pie was never much farther away than the time to bake it.
My dad had a law school friend that had married a Yankee girl and moved to New York. About twice a year he would visit. Mom served him country ham, fried okra, buttermilk biscuits with the butter and jelly and blueberry pie for desert. I have never seen someone eat that much in my life. In return he would bring 3 pound boxes on Medjool dates from Israel. My mom loved them. I loved the date nut bread.
WWG1WGA
Garde la Foi, mes amis! Nous nous sommes les sauveurs de la République! Maintenant et Toujours!
(Keep the Faith, my friends! We are the saviors of the Republic! Now and Forever!)
LonePalm, le Républicain du verre cassé (The Broken Glass Republican)