Loco Food


Out here in the flatland corn forests of the Midwest, we boast that we have the localest food in the country. Some of it never travels farther than 200 feet, the average distance between barn and house.

Souse is one such delicacy. If you don’t know about souse you are a mere fledgling in the world of local foods. If you do know about it, you may refer to it more often as loco food. You can find out about it in cookbooks, but I can save you the time. Souse is the inedible parts of a hog cooked to a gelatinous mass that has the consistency and taste of Vaseline washed in vinegar. If it is not a local food where you live, count your blessings.

Blood pudding is another loco food still made in our county. Some cookbooks have recipes for it but none of them tell the whole story. Frontier farmers eking out a living before giant tractors were discovered in the primeval forests invented this savory dish. It consists of everything in or on a razorback hog that can’t be eaten until one is near starvation. After surviving on the stuff in one’s youth, old timers keep forcing it on younger generations out of loyalty to the past. Younger generations, worried about the future of mankind, have been known to make blood pudding disappear on the way from barn to the kitchen. It goes from barn to doghouse, ten feet away, making it the grand champion of all local foods.

If you are a locavore, be thankful you don’t live in Kentucky. A local dish where my wife grew up is called Kentucky oysters. I don’t know how to say it delicately so I will just say it. Kentucky oysters, or mountain oysters in other states, are pig gonads. My wife insists they are actually not bad.

I myself am glad that I don’t live in California where avocados are local food. To me an avocado tastes something like a wad of cotton that has been immersed in three year old lard for a few days. Californians keep trying to pawn their avocados off on unsuspecting flatlanders in the cornbelt. My mother tried to hide some in a salad once, but I fetched every single slice out before my brother and sisters could be harmed.

Our village of Harpster, Ohio (the inspiration for the fictitious town of Gowler in my novel, The Last of the Husbandmen) is the most local place I know. You can saunter from one end of it to the other faster than a three hundred pound lineman on the Cleveland Browns can run a football field in high gear. It is so local that within my memory it had its own telephone exchange in the front parlor of Miss Fanny’s house which looked out on the road that goes through “town.” Using the telephone was so much more advanced in those days. One merely picked up the receiver and waited for Miss Fanny’s voice.

“Number please?”

“I need to talk to Pinky at the store.”

“Oh, he’s not there right now, Gene. Saw him headed west, probably out to his mother’s. Should I ring her up?”

Now that’s local.

A favorite local food in Harpster used to be rattlesnake steak. The Killdeer swamps south of the village abounded in rattlers— still do— but since old Mr. Meincer died, I don’t know of anyone who actually eats them anymore. Back then though, farmers who had bought land there because it was level and black but turned out to be too wet to make much of a crop, had to get by as best they could. That’s why blood pudding is still popular around here. Beats rattlesnake steak. Moonshine was the other local food during Prohibition. Well, it has corn in it so I guess it’s a food.

Our most famous local food however comes out of a village on the other side of the county called Lovell. For years the Lovell Market was the place to buy really good jerky. People drove from all over northern Ohio to get some. It was even written up in newspapers and magazines. Which brings up a philosophical point. If you live in Cleveland but buy your jerky in Lovell two hours away, is that local food in your case? It is a mystery to me why so many people love Lovell’s jerky. It is so stringy and dry that if you are a fast chewer and an adept swallower, you could starve to death on it in less than four days.

All of which leads me to believe that it would be a whole lot more fun to be a locavore in a neighborhood of fine restaurants, like, say, in Paris, France, than in my neck of the woods. But there are some local delicacies even Paris can’t offer. When we really get hungry, we roast a young groundhog.


I grew up in the lovely farmbelt of Indiana…still live there..and we have these lovely eats too! LOL When we would butcher people would call saying “Can we have the blood, how about the feet..” you name it! LOL I never have and still dont eat any of those things! LOL My hard and fast rule…if they lick with it,see with it, reproduce with it or it is an organ in the body..I dont eat it!” lol
I remember Granny frying chicken feet..yes feet..for my Grandpa.He loved them! lol
My daughter,even though she is growing up close to town…is still steeped in country living and cooking. The country just has a sense..of home..and of living a good life. We never starved,never froze to death or died when the lights went out! LOL Not as much can be said about the “city slicker”…haha

Lovell Market does still sell jerky, and it is awesome! Try the homeade pizza on Wednesday, Friday, and Saturdays. It also is in a league of its own.

I drive through Lovell all the time too but haven’t stopped for ages. If you stop, let me know if they are still selling jerky, will you? Gene

I drive through Lovell all the time — are they still selling homemade jerky there?

I grew up eating kiska, a polish sausage that had blood, barley and pork trimmings. I loved it, fried in a cast iron skillet and cooked so it was crispy on each side. Remember eating the crunchy ends of it first and then eating the rest next. Brings back fond memories. The polish store that sells it now imports it from Chicago I think and of all things, they put msg in it, drats them fools. My dad ate head cheese but I never got up the nerve to try it for myself. Kids now days don’t know what there missin.

Funny stuff! I think here in TN “Souse” may be the same as my grandmother’s “head cheese”. I actually saw some pig heads in a chain supermarket refrigerator case last week-end! They always carry ears and feet here, but I had never seen entire heads before.
I remember my mother refusing to cook a lot of strange things my Dad brought home (“Take those chitterlings (chitlins) to your mother’s house right now! She’ll cook them for you!”) when I was very young. Thanks for the memories!

Thanks to all of you above for appreciating my weird humor. It is the only way I can stay even a little sane. Yes, I forgot snapping turtle, which, honest, is one of my favorite foods. That is probably why I forgot it. I don’t put it in the same dish with souse. Russ, I bet anything you are a fan of Mark Twain. Gene Logsdon

To quote a favorite writer “I really try hard to write sometning of significance in this mad mad world”. Good humor is always significant. It is hard to imagine when the phrase “Vaseline washed in vinegar” will come in useful, but if it ever does, it is now burned into my consciousness.

I have to agree with Carol on the Kentucky oysters (out here in California they’re called mountain oysters). Sliced thin, breaded and fried in lots of butter they are good enough to eat whenever you happen to have a few on hand. But your side of the argument gets my vote when it comes to souse and blood pudding. Give it to the chickens, they’ll eat anything!

thetinfoilhatsociety January 14, 2010 at 9:08 am

You forgot the snapping turtle soup! Or are you out of that particular area? I grew up in IN, we had that every year.

Blood sausage still sounds as revolting to me as it did when I was a kid and I’ve never knowingly eaten it. I can see the purpose, waste nothing, and it’s a good source of iron, but still….blech.

Teresa Sue Hoke-House January 14, 2010 at 6:04 am

*Laugh, giggle, snort* Ohhhhhh, thanks for starting my day out with a laugh!

Sounds lovely. I guess here the worst someone can eat is liver. Why would I want to eat a pig filter? Thats basically what liver is, a filter.

Please leave your comments...

Name and email address are required. Your email address will not be published.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

You may use these HTML tags and attributes:

<a href="" title="" rel=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <pre> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>