Brunswick stew is an amalgamation of vegetables, meat, and other stuff. And it shall eventually be the subject of this post.
This past weekend, as part of our 27th anniversary celebration, my husband and I ventured westward out toward the Blue Ridges. On Saturday we visited Staunton, Virginia (looks like “Stawn-ton” but pronounced “Stan-ton” by the natives), home of Mary Baldwin College, the Woodrow Wilson birthplace and library, and Blackfriar’s Shakespeare Theater. We did not encounter Brunswick stew there.
The concoction was featured on Sunday, when we attended the 2017 Apprenticeship Showcase of the Virginia Folklife Program. As per usual, one of the finalists of the annual Brunswick stew championship of Virginia, the Proclamation Stew Crew from, of course, Brunswick County, were there stirring their gigantic pot and offering generous helpings for $1.00 a bowl. Who could resist?
This reminded me not only of the time the crew came to the 2007 Smithsonian Folklife Festival to slave over their hot cauldron for hours, but also a recent and not nearly as satisfying encounter with a so-called Brunswick Stew at a barbecue concession in the Charlotte, NC airport. It was pretty terrible, consisting I think of all leftover bits of barbecue meat and veg from the sides that did not sell the day before all mashed together.
Which brings me to the final version of “Brunswick Stew” that I once inadvertently concocted during my Camp Randolph cooking days (see earlier post, Lake Effects, Part Three). The former cook of Camp Randolph apparently used to cook up a full turkey dinner every Sunday (in the middle of the summer!) for the residents. I compromised at a roast of some sort every Sunday, with turkey being featured every other week. Still, turkey leftovers were rampant and had to be addressed.
One Friday, I took bits of turkey and mixed them up with the leftover stuffing, some vegetables, and gravy and served it as a sort of, well, stew. “Marvy Brunswick stew!” declared one of the residents, and I had no idea what he was talking about.
Till years later, when I discovered the authentic Virginia version. Because, though Georgians also claim the stew was first created there, in my opinion the Virginia version reigns supreme.
s (as in, the neighborhood kids since we only have one) used to play in when they were younger. I never noticed, but this metal gate has the name of 
at houses
dal Basin to see the blooms. (Full disclosure, this photo is of last year’s blooms.) We began to talk about all the things that make us grumpy while walking around the Tidal Basin during Cherry Blossom Madness. These include: Photographers who set their tripods up in the middle of the walkway. Parents with double strollers hogging the sidewalk. People jogging – really, you can’t find a better place to jog than a sidewalk clogged with tourists? People walking multiple dogs. Not just one little dog, but three medium to large sized dogs. On long leashes that get tangled around people’s legs. Oblivious people taking selfies with the trees. Kids who pick blossoms off the trees for a souvenir. Okay, so there are always too many people, not enough sidewalk, and things that are going to annoy you. But, still, the cherry blossoms are gorgeous and despite it all, you have to enjoy them and share them with everyone, be they considerate or not. The blossoms remind us of everything lovely and fleeting, soft and seasonal.