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Miss Ludie

© Virginia Marin

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Near the lower tip of South Carolina where our state line meets that of Georgia, the land becomes quite swampy. It has been known that even ol' timers who may accidently wander into the bottoms are quickly and forever swallowed by quicksand, as Scylla and Charybdis of the swamp beckon other lost souls deeper, yet deeper into this forbidden baygall. It is here that Miss Ludie lives...

Now, Miss Ludie was never one to imbibe but she did love her pot liquor. Every morning before the sun awoke, seven days out of seven found her at an old wood- burning stove singing spirituals as she lovingly stirred the day's pot. For three quarters of a century, Miss Ludie never once altered this schedule:

Monday--Turnip greens
Tuesday--Spinach
Wednesday--Cabbage
Thursday--Turnip greens
Friday--Mustard greens
Saturday--Turnip greens
Sunday--Beet greens

Pot liquor. The resulting broth in which succulent greens have been cooked. It is a clear, salty and highly flavorful liquid into which cornbread is crumbled and eaten with a spoon, or it is simply enjoyed hot from a cup or glass.

In some areas of the South, thin black-eye pea liquid is used like pot liquor since it makes a good medium for crumbled cornbread, but since it is not clear broth from cooked greens, it does not meet the Southern purist definition of pot liquor.

Miss Ludie's greens and pot liquor were known over the entire Low Country of South Carolina and even into Georgia. Her dedication to church work was her life's work and her cooking pot fell under this mantle.

On any day, in any weather, one could see Miss Ludie walking along a dirt road, basket in hand, taking pot liquor to the sick and home bound. If one could not feed it to himself, she patiently administered it till every drop was consumed. Before leaving any home, Miss Ludie always left her calling card--a jar of the day's pot liquor for the entire family to enjoy.

Her circuit included enough stops to fill the day except for the time she reserved for necessary task work. There was always weeding, tilling, planting and garden harvesting to be done; firewood to gather or chop; washing and ironing, and, of course, general cleaning of her little cabin. My, but Miss Ludie's days were busy from up to down.

She was a small-statued charmer with chalk-white hair pulled back into a tight knot. Her beady-black eyes looked out from wide circles that never missed a trick. Miss Ludie made all of her dresses from flour sacks--those ten to twenty pound cotton flour bags known near and far for their colorful prints. A descendant of early slaves from the Gold Coast of Africa, she was proficient not only in cooking, but all home arts as well as in the arts of healing--contemporary and voodoo. She was a self-taught avid reader who could also read music but played the piano and organ by ear. Ne'r a Sunday came by that found not Miss Ludie in her proper church niche.

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