High atop Nancy Mountain in western North Carolina sits a
lonely rude cabin. It’s a very basic structure: no paint, no frills, no porch,
roughhewn logs with a single window, a door and a crumbling stone chimney.
There are cracks between the logs that let in air in summer and cold wind in
winter. The roof is barely hanging in there to even earn the name roof.*
Nancy Mountain is home to only two
human creatures and many, many of God’s four-legged ones: brown and black bear,
squirrels, rabbits, white-tail deer, small red and grey foxes, many beautiful
birds, raccoons, and possum for a start. The pines stand tall and very green.
The rhododendron (sometimes called laurel)
and mountain ivy (also known as
laurel) are everywhere – huge and in abundance. On this particular June day, the
ivy is past its bloom but the rhody are filled with almost sinfully gorgeous
blooms from white to blush pink to bolder pink to lavender and magenta red.
Uncle Henry and his pal Sam live off
the land and go for days with no other human contact. Sam lives down the road
apiece – that is, if you could call it a road. It’s actually more of a wide path. Uncle
Henry owns the only wagon on the mountain. It’s a rickety affair pulled by an
equally rickety mule named Sam2! Sam2 is just about like his owner and his
owner’s friend, Sam1 – ornery as they come!
Of all the creatures on Nancy Mountain, one of the most
disgusting is the possum! Not that Uncle Henry and Sam would agree because they
dearly love their possum. Uncle Henry’s possum recipe is famous all over Nancy
Mountain and beyond. It’s mountain manna
straight from heaven according to Henry and Sam!
On this particular June morning Uncle Henry got Sam2 out of
the rough shed attached to the mountain shack and hitched Sam2 to the wagon. Henry
planned to go into town for some provisions. Along the way, Henry kept his eyes
peeled for whatever he might find.
Suddenly, he spied treasure – rigcht
thar in the road!
But, that wagon and that darn mule were just going with a
mind of their own lickety split down the mountainside. Bump! Squish! Roadkill
feast!
Whoa! Whoa, Sam! Just
sit a spell and I’ll be rit backatcha!
Uncle Henry, scrambled down from his rickety wagon as fast as his
equally rickety bones would let him. He shuffled to the road in front of the
wagon, stooped, and rose with a bit of icky fur in his hand. Wait, it was ick and fur as there was plenty of pink skin showing. WHAT WAS IT?
Disgusting to the max! BUT, Uncle Henry had an expression of adoration, wonder,
and hope breaking the cracks in his weathered face! He pitched the thing into the back of the wagon and
continued on his way…………
Some hours later Uncle Henry returned to his mountaintop. It
was a rare really hot day in the little town of Rosman at the base of Nancy
Mountain, and an even more rare hot day high on Nancy Mountain. As Uncle Henry
moseyed home he smiled anticipating the feast he would have by evening!
Once he pulled up to the cabin he lumbered down and grabbed
the pink and fur thing out of the back of the wagon where it had been getting
warm and very dusty on his venture into town and back. He shuffled into the cabin, leaving the wagon
and Sam2 standing outside along with the provisions he had purchased at Jarriod’s
in town. Uncle Henry exited the cabin again with a scary hunting knife in one
hand and his pink and fur creature in the other. He knelt in the bare dirt and
proceeded to scrape off all the fur until what he held was all pink if also a little more squishy. With one quick slash he slit
the creature and gutted it, discarding the stringy guts on the ground for the
flies. Once more Uncle Henry moseyed inside where he proceeded to get down to
business for real.
He didn’t need a recipe. It was tattooed to the inside of
his eyeballs:
Once
you get your possum skinned out and cleaned you will need:
8
Big Taters
2
big blobs of butter
1
big smack of sugar
A
pinch or two of salt and pepper to taste
Put
the possum in the pot with just a smidgen of water, cover with a good tight
lid. Possums take longer to cook than taters so wait until your possum has
stewed for about an hour before you add the taters to the pot. Place the taters
along the sides of the possum and mix in sugar, salt and pepper to taste.
Every
15 minutes or so take off the lid and baste the possum with the juices. By now
the possum’s own fat will have rendered. It will make some delicious possum
gravy!
When
the possum is tender and the meat falls off the bones mix a little flour to the
water/possum fat and tater mixture. And, don’t let your tongue slap your brains
out!
Henry put the meat in an old iron pot which he stuck in the
oven of his wood stove, struck a match, and drew a deep breath before he
settled his old bones into one of the few pieces of furniture in the room.
There was a tiny rough table, one straight back chair with a broken-up rush
seat, a lumpy bed stuck over in the dark corner and a wooden rocking chair. It
was the rocking chair that now held Uncle Henry! He leaned back, shut his eyes,
folded his gnarled hands over his rather substantial belly, and began to snore
almost immediately.
Within an hour, Sam 1 came shuffling along the path. He
spied the wagon and Sam2. Sam2 was busy flicking flies with his tail. Huh, said Sam softly. Somethin’ must be up with ole Henry for him
to leave Sam2 out still hooked to the wagon! Then Sam sniffed. Ah! Heavenly smells were coming from the
cabin! Sam peeked inside. Henry was sawing logs big time!
Sam crept over to the stove and quietly, quietly pulled the
old creaky oven door open. Ahhhhhh! said
Sam rolling his eyes and lickin’ his lips, POSSUM!!! He darted a quick glance at Henry, and then
very carefully and quietly slipped the iron pot from the oven and lifted the
lid. He squeezed his eyes shut and smiled a totally ecstatic smile that showed
off his rotten teeth to their full advantage! O, man, I’m just gonna take a little taste of ole Ma Possum here, said
Sam inside his head. He reached into the pot and pulled out a meat-covered bone
and sucked the sweet meat right off that bone. O, yum! Just one more…or
maybe two and then I’ll be on my way!
Well, when you’re eating nectar straight from heaven, it’s
hard to stop! Sam just couldn’t help himself! He just kept sneaking glances at
Henry and sucking meat off bones. His fingers were dripping with possum grease
and he was lickin’ and lickin’! At last, he stuck his grubby fingers into the
possum grease one last time but there were no more bones, no more meat, ONLY
grease and taters!
Sam, you’ve done it
now! Henry is gonna skin you alive! You better go, boyo, before Henry wakes up!
Sam thought as fast as he could. He
glanced at Uncle Henry and could tell he was still dreamin’ deeply of possum. I know, thought Sam. I can fix this for the best of both worlds!
I got me some possum, and I can fix Henry into thinkin’ he got some possum too!
Sam scooped up some of the grease and very carefully and
slowly began to dribble the grease onto Uncle Henry’s hands and down his front,
across his many chins, on his nose, across his cheeks and even dropping some
into Uncle Henry’s open mouth! Then, for
the pièce de résistance, Sam put a few of
the bare bones into Henry’s open hands. Then, he slipped quietly from the cabin
and went on his way.
Meanwhile Uncle Henry’s dreams were penetrated by the
delicious smells of possum grease and bones and meat! Humpf! Uncle
Henry shook himself, barely opened his eyes and slowly became aware that he
could already taste possum. He licked his lips and tasted pure possum! But,
wait, thought Henry, My stomach is
still arumblin’! Then he felt the
grease dribblin’ off his chin and licked again.
He pulled himself up out of the chair and peeked in the pot on the
stove, looking at the pretty well-licked clean bones in a pile beside the pot.
WOW! thought Henry.
I taste possum. I smell possum. There is
possum on my hands and on my chin and even on my tongue, but I swear I don’t
think there’s a single string of possum in my belly!
*This story
is entirely my creation except that my wonderful Daddy who went to heaven a
little over a year ago used to tell us Uncle Henry stories especially on warm
summer nights or cold winter days. All six of us would beg, Daddy, tell us an Uncle Henry story tonight!
He always said he’d have to think, but he usually came up with another one! The
idea for this story is entirely his, and this was actually his very first
venture into Uncle Henry lore but his telling is so long ago and far away that
I took that germ and put it into my own words! Enjoy!
