Sorghum syrup is a worthy substitute for molasses

North Carolina’s “other molasses” is sorghum syrup made from a cereal plant that grows well in the South.

Beginning in the 1800s, sorghum was viewed as a “cheap alternative to costly sugar,” according to coastal food writer Liz Biro.

“Presses squeeze liquid from sorghum stalks, which resemble corn stalks. Boiled down, the juice becomes a dark brown syrup slightly thinner than molasses and possessing a sour edge as opposed to molasses’ bitterness,” she said.

Sorghum syrup has a long tradition in North Carolina’s mountains, especially in the Toe River Valley in Avery, Mitchell and Yancey counties, said Ronni Lundy, a contributor to Our State magazine.

 

“Whenever my mother made biscuits, she placed a jar of sorghum syrup in the center of the table. Tradition called for us to slap a big pat of soft butter on a saucer, pour the amber elixir over it, and use the backs of our forks to mix the two. Then, we opened our hot biscuits,” Lundy wrote.

 

“The grown-ups would put each half on their respective plates, slather on the sticky goodness and eat it properly with a fork. But I was allowed to eat my biscuit out of my hand. Melted butter and syrup ran down my fingers, making a sticky mess. I was further indulged by being allowed to lick my fingers clean.”

Lundy’s mother described sorghum syrup’s distinctive taste: “It’s got a whang to it – sweet, sour, a faint twinge of bitter with and a buttery depth.”

“If you were born in the Southern Appalachians, you also know that sorghum syrup tastes of home and hollers. It tastes of gold-and-crimson autumn and a wood fire under an evaporating pan. It tastes of community and tradition,” Lundy said.

“If you understand the history and persistence of the Mountain South, you will understand that sorghum syrup also tastes of independence,” she added.

Jay Pierce, an executive chef in Greensboro, told Lundy: “Sorghum is indicative of the way rural America used to be structured. A sorghum boil is like a barn-raising.” Farmers would pool their harvests. 

Somebody had a mill and a mule. “And then the syrup would come out and it would be divided among the people there as one sorghum.”

 

Wendy Perry, a freelance writer based in Zebulon, N.C., said she was feeling giddy about her culinary adventure to the 200-year-old Harrell Hill Farms in Bakersville in Mitchell County to meet sorghum syrup master Doug Harrell.

“Mr. Doug gave me a hug, as if we were longtime friends, this gentleman in his well-broke-in overalls, as comfortable as a second skin.”

Out in the field, “a few of his 21 grandchildren, neighborhood youth and some 4-Hers were there to swoop up armfuls of the tall, golden-green sorghum stalks that had been mowed down.”

 

“Back at the cook shed, Mr. Doug’s granddaughter, Ashlyn ‘Lil’ Bit’ McDaniel, fed stalks into the cane mill, a chug-a-lug contraption from 1903, crushing juice from the stalks of freshly cut sorghum. It would cook for hours for the next day’s syrup.”

“As the syrup cooked down and moved through the vats to the perfect temperature, a rich smell arose. The syrup reached the end of the pan, free of impurities and ready to move to the vat for bottling.”

“It was there, holding my finger under that spigot for a drip, where I got my first taste,” Perry said. “It was as good, no, better than any I could remember. I had seen all of the love and community spirit poured into each and every jar. And could taste it, too.”