We might well speak of the great state of North Carolina, because it is surely that. But we’re making a motion to swap that “great” for “grape,” because isn’t it about time the muscadine got its due? The Outer Banks’ Mother Vine has been around for more than 400 years, after all, and elsewhere in the state, artists and booksellers have turned to grapevines and their fruit for inspiration. The South’s famed scuppernong grape was named for a river here in North Carolina. We already knew these sweet, substantial fruits make good wine. And as it turns out, they make a great pie, too — skins (surprise!) and all. Or so we’ve heard through the — well, you know.
On Roanoke Island, in the care of a vigilant couple, a piece of our history still grows.
Grapevines join bark and kudzu in an Asheville artist’s unique take on baskets.
At Greensboro’s independent bookstore, good reads are ripe for the picking.
Grape skins in a pie? It used to be commonplace, and with good reason. Let’s bring it back.
In Columbia, the river that gave its name to our grape is a lifeline and a family tie.
In North Carolina, spring brings the scent of fresh-cut grass and memories of helping Dad mow the lawn.
Nostalgic burger joints are like time machines, delivering something extra special that keeps us coming back.
This tiny city block in downtown Greensboro once had a gigantic reputation. Not so much for its charbroiled beef patties — though they, too, were plentiful — but for its colorful characters and their wild shenanigans.
In the 1950s, as Americans hit freshly paved roads in shiny new cars during the postwar boom, a new kind of restaurant took shape: the drive-in. From those first thin patties to the elaborate gourmet hamburgers of today, North Carolina has spent the past 80 years making burger history.
