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We picked many 'scupendines' in my youth from the dripping 'scupendine' vine in the back yard, just off the back porch. We knew that fall was in the air when the grapes were firm and green and then fall arrived when they turned a brownish hue and started dropping from the vines.
And what is a 'scupendine', you ask? Well, it was just a few years ago that I discovered that there is no such grape as a 'scupendine'. There are muscadines (the purple ones) and scuppernongs (green muscadines) but somehow we always picked from the 'scupendine' vine. Funny, I still catch myself calling those sweet grapes by the wrong name. Because sometimes tradition takes over.
And fall does not officially arrive until we make the ceremonial drive to the mountains to harvest scuppernongs culminating in baking the traditional Southern scuppernong pie.
Many many steps but OH SO worth that incomparable first taste of fall.
And what is a 'scupendine', you ask? Well, it was just a few years ago that I discovered that there is no such grape as a 'scupendine'. There are muscadines (the purple ones) and scuppernongs (green muscadines) but somehow we always picked from the 'scupendine' vine. Funny, I still catch myself calling those sweet grapes by the wrong name. Because sometimes tradition takes over.
And fall does not officially arrive until we make the ceremonial drive to the mountains to harvest scuppernongs culminating in baking the traditional Southern scuppernong pie.
Many many steps but OH SO worth that incomparable first taste of fall.
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