Colonel Stephens' Christmas Trees and Catfish

You know it’s almost Christmas when it’s time to cut the Christmas tree!

Around Selma, this tradition often becomes a family outing to Stephens Christmas Tree Forest. A child’s fantasyland of cypress and cedar, the farm is just 15 miles from town along a winding, wooded road.

Boughs of Carolina Sapphire and Blue Pyramid steep with fragrance that only live greenery can give, and the temptation to cut a tree that’s too tall for the ceiling is…hmmm… overwhelming!

Check Stephens, the Christmas Tree Man, is well known. His trees have not only sheltered gifts in our homes but created majesty at the state capitol and governor’s mansion. Active in civic clubs, church, the Army Reserve, politics and agriculture, many honors have come Stephens’ way.

But there is one thing that a lot of his customers don’t know. The gentleman who grows their trees also pioneered the industry that brings pond-raised catfish to their plates!

Stephens resided in Greensboro and was selling feed for Ralston-Purina back in 1960 when he and a company scientist had a chance meeting with a local dairy farmer. The farmer mentioned a fish kill in his bass pond and asked the specialist for advice about restocking.

“Stock it with catfish!” was the reply. But no one had fingerlings for stock. That’s when Stephens and the farmer, Richard True of Newbern, “decided that since nobody was hatching them, we’d start!”

They formed a corporation with another dairy farmer and began hatching fingerlings and stocking ponds. As the fish grew, they needed processing. So a few more people joined their effort, and Alabama’s first catfish processing company was born.

By the new Millennium, Alabama had nearly 25,000 acres of food-fish ponds and catfish sales of more than $80 million, most of it in the Black Belt.

Stephens later moved to Autauga County where he groomed his Christmas tree farm and continued growing fingerlings. Now, at 86, he declares the time has come to “hang up” the catfish operation. But this former Army colonel can never quit anything…perhaps just retire it.

Photograph: Check Stephens at his Christmas Tree farm

Almost Autumn

Here we are…end of summer, almost autumn!

Goldenrod is beginning to unwrap its glorious sunny foliage. Bugs are bolder, and spiders spin their webs with abandon.

Home, family and food bloggers rearrange rooms and recipes, and some have posted pictures of shiny red apples and scrumptious ways to eat them. Gourds and pumpkins are getting attention too. Meanwhile, other blogs had end-of-summer tea parties.

Here in the Black Belt, this is the season for sweet potatoes and a hundred ways to cook them. It’s also when the catfish really gets around and re-introduces himself. He reigns as mascot of the Alabama Tale-Tellin’ Festival in Selma on Oct. 12 and 13 and appears as the catfishmobile in holiday parades.

His popularity at Tale-Tellin’ is aided by nationally known storytellers who reel in their audience with comedy, music and delightful tales about the South, including ghost stories and folk remedies told by festival founder Kathryn Tucker Windham.

For those of you who don’t know The Ghost Lady, she’s an award-winning author, storyteller, photographer and cook. She’s also an octogenarian who still travels to places like Jonesborough, Tenn., where she’s featured at the National Storytelling Festival.

When I first moved to Selma as a young wife and reporter, she lived across the street. Not long after we moved in, she brought us a cake…sorry, I don’t recall what kind! I mainly remember discussing writing and her journey from pioneer female police reporter… to feature writer …to book author. Among her 20-something books is Southern Cooking to Remember, and here are her catfish and hush puppy recipes.

French Fried Catfish

Cut catfish into slices about one-inch thick.
Pour enough oil into a deep cooking pot to completely cover the fish.
Salt the fish and dip the pieces in undiluted evaporated milk.
Roll in cracker crumbs or cornmeal and drop into hot oil.
When golden brown, drain, and serve hot with melted butter and lemon juice.

Hush Puppies

1 cup cornmeal
4 tablespoons flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon soda
½ teaspoon salt
1 egg
1 cup thick buttermilk
1 medium onion, chopped fine

Sift the dry ingredients together. Beat the egg in the buttermilk and add. Stir in chopped onion. Drop by teaspoonfuls (do not drop in big chunks) into very hot, deep fat, preferably fat in which fish has been fried. Turn when brown. Drain on paper and eat as soon as they are cool enough to handle.

Ode to Mac's Fish Camp

Woe is us…

and all the other devoted patrons of Mac’s Fish Camp.

On a recent Saturday night, my family pampered our palates with this river restaurant’s southern-fried cuisine, not knowing it was our last Mac’s meal.

Then, here I was Monday morning…writing a post about local catfish restaurants when Mr. G (my husband) called from work with the news.

Our favorite all-you-can-eat catfish place was gone! It burned just hours after we left. So what kind of jinxes are we? Or for that matter—a couple of neighbors, friends from across the river and the probate judge— who were also there that evening?

Mac’s Fish Camp was a local landmark. It had owners who greeted you, patrons who welcomed you and a delightfully laid-back décor that could never be achieved by a professional designer.

Take a concrete-block building. Add some Plain-Jane lunchroom chairs, red-and-white checked tablecloths, and a bunch of hunting and fishing mounts. Place the menus, condiments and roll of paper towels in Bon Secour oyster buckets. Install big windows for a view of the river, and embellish with trees draped in Spanish moss. That was the blueprint for the most popular fish camp on our side of the Alabama River.

As my oldest son lamented, “It’s the only place I’ve ever been that had an alligator gar hanging on the wall!”

In recent news articles, photos show the devastation, but most of the mounts appear to be hanging on— deer, wild turkey, owl, largemouth bass —to name a few.

As for clientele, the place had universal appeal.

Everybody fit in. It was pretty much a come-as-you-are spot, even if you trolled in off the river. It was the place where we introduced our children to eating out. The reverberation of a conversational crowd kept the Sound of Un-Silent Kids to background level!

Several years ago, it was the choice for my father-in-law’s birthday party, and it’s been the choice for Sunday School get-togethers and political fundraisers. I’m told that country music singer Hank Williams Jr. even ate there.

To further expound upon the Mac’s memories of my son, he said the pond-raised catfish “never tasted fishy,” and “the hush puppies were the best I’ve ever eaten anywhere.” A bowl of coleslaw came first, and “all-you-can-eat” specials were delivered with the fish, hush puppies and French fries all in an oblong pan. You just passed it around and kept your plate full.

Yesterday, I tuned the radio to Selma’s Dixie 100 and heard a Mac’s ad. But, instead of hearing an upbeat fish duet inviting me to come on down, they thanked their supporters and said they would either have to take a long vacation or early retirement.

So, hear my plea.

We feel as if we’ve lost a good friend!

Mac’s Fish Camp, won’t you please come back?

PHOTO: Last Meal at Mac's Fish Camp