scrapple Archives - OLD LINE PLATE

The artwork in this interview really speaks for itself but for
the sake of having an introduction I’ll mention that I came across
these Erick Sahler Serigraphs Co. prints at one
of the newer bookshops in Chincoteague this past August. In a few short
moments I’d stocked up on postcards and a perceptive saleswoman sold me
on a print.
A bold graphic rendering of Smith Island cake has got to have some type of neurological effect on me. Resistance is futile.
Noticing how these prints celebrate so much of Old Line Plate subject matter, I hit Erick up for an interview.

“Most people believe the place they live is special, and I
appreciate that, but after traveling all across the United States, I
feel the Eastern Shore truly is unique.”

Did you have any formal art training?

I
like to make things — art, music, videos, anything, really, that
satisfies my creative itch. I trained with Chesapeake Bay maritime
artist C. Keith Whitelock when I was growing up, and that was the spark
that ignited my passion for the Eastern Shore. I got on-the-job training
designing and making silkscreen prints for Chesapeake Screen Printing
during my high school and college years. I graduated in 1989 from UMBC,
where I studied graphic design, illustrating and lettering before the
era of computers.

It’s
interesting that you have decided to pursue your work on the Eastern
Shore where so many other artists might have gravitated to major
metropolitan areas or what have you. Can you talk some about your
decision to settle in Salisbury?

After
my first year of college, I dreamed of working for an advertising
agency on Madison Avenue. After my second year of college, I decided
working for an advertising agency in Baltimore would be a better fit.
After my third year of college, I longed to come home, to return to the
Shore. Most people believe the place they live is special, and I
appreciate that, but after traveling all across the United States, I
feel the Eastern Shore truly is unique. So many others agree, and I
believe that’s why my artwork resonates — it’s a reminder of all the
good things about life on the Delmarva Peninsula. I can’t imagine living
or making art any place else.

I
see on your site that you have been at it for some time, but I only
became aware of your work recently. Has anything changed or have you
been creating more retail products or something? I swear I used to have
the hardest time finding really good postcards on Chincoteague and the
Eastern Shore!

I’ve
been creating Eastern Shore-themed silkscreen prints and stationery
since the summer of 2011. Prior to that, I worked 22 years in the
newsroom of the Salisbury paper. When the recession hit and the
newspaper industry began circling the drain, I decided it was time for
Plan B. I was in my mid-40s and figured if I was ever to strike out as
an artist, the time was now. My family supported me, and after two years
of planning, researching and building a print shop over my garage, I
gave my notice and launched a new career. Ever since, I’ve worked
full-time (and then some) designing, printing, packaging, framing,
marketing, shipping, accounting — every aspect of the business. I’m a
one-man shop.

Any particular influences on your style? A lot of it reminds me somewhat of WPA park posters.

Yes,
definitely the WPA artists of the late 1930s. Those designs were also
printed using silkscreens, so the process and style are similar. I’ve
been a lifelong fan of Joseph Craig English, who makes incredible
silkscreen prints of scenes in the Washington, D.C. area. I’m a great
fan of Norman Rockwell, for his ability to tell the great stories of
regular Americans. I also find great inspiration in the simple but
powerful work turned out for decades by Hatch Show Print in Nashville.

Can
you talk some about your inspiration process — some of the art appears
to have been originally commissioned or created to a specific end but
some of it seems like random appreciation.

You
are correct. I set out to produce nine or 10 new editions each year.
Most of those are targeted to certain markets or events. I have great
dealers in Chincoteague, Cambridge, Oxford, Berlin and Snow Hill, all of
whom I try to keep happy with fresh stock. I’m also involved in some
fantastic shows in Oxford and Bethany Beach, which I create new work for
each year. So the market does drive the subject matter, to some extent.
But it’s not all business, and a number of pieces were created from my
desire to celebrate what’s close to my heart. The Stock Car Races print
is one. The old Memorial Stadium print is another.

Are you a big Smith Island Cake fan? If so, what flavor is the best?

I’m
a traditionalist — I prefer the yellow cake with chocolate icing, like
the one in my print. But the carrot cake version is pretty fine too.

How often do you eat scrapple?

As often as possible! Brisk fall mornings are perfect for scrapple. I like it on toast with scrambled egg and melted cheese.

In
all seriousness though, you have several prints based around the local
edible specialties, care to comment any further on what these things
mean to you either as graphic inspiration or even personally?

Tracy,
my wife, is a foodie. Each summer we travel across the U.S. with our
two girls and a big dog-eared book called “Road Food” by Michael and
Jane Stern. We have driven hours off the main route for a pile of ribs,
or barbecue, or even some hot dogs. So we really appreciate local food —
and usually the more low-brow, the better. That’s what initially drove
my “Delmarva’s Finest” collection, which features blue crabs,
Chincoteague and Choptank oysters and Smith Island Cake. My Scrapple
design — a parody of the Apple Computer logo — was a one-off for the
annual Apple-Scrapple Festival in Bridgeville, Del.

Your
postcards/posters nearly create a travel brochure for Delmarva. Can you
outline an ideal day or weekend spent traveling around the region?

You
can travel one hour from Salisbury in any direction and be in heaven.
Rehoboth, Bethany, Ocean City, Assateague, Chincoteague, Onancock,
Crisfield, Deal Island, Hooper Island, Cambridge, Oxford, St. Michaels.
Take your pick — and they all have dynamite places to eat along the way.
My don’t-misses would include a pint of Indian Brown Ale at Dogfish
Head in Milton, Del.; Thrasher’s french fries on the Ocean City
Boardwalk; scoops of Java Jolt and Marsh Mud at the Island Creamery in
Chincoteague, Va.; the flounder platter at Metompkin Seafood in
Mappsville, Va.; the Buffalo wings at Adam’s Taphouse in Fruitland, Md.;
and a maple doughnut at Bay Country Bakery in Cambridge.

I see you have a Chesapeake Retriever — Maryland pride or just by chance?

That’s
funny — his name is Chance. I was a UMBC Retriever, but actually my
fondness for Chessies goes way back. My “Offseason” print shows me with
our Chesapeake Bay retriever on the beach at 53rd Street in Ocean City
in the spring of 1972. They’re a great breed — smart, loyal, independent
— and a perfect fit for life on the Eastern Shore.You can’t keep them
out of the water.

View more artwork, buy prints or contact Erick Sahler at www.ericksahler.com

In 2007, my friend hosted a “gross food” party. Everyone was requested to bring something from their childhood, a family favorite perhaps, something that might strike outsiders as a little gross.
Ketchup Fried Rice was enjoyed. There was Ribs & Kraut. Some bozo who didn’t catch the net brought Popeyes. I took the opportunity to slice up a block of RAPA Scrapple, cook it to ideal crispness on each side, and then fold each slice in a piece of un-toasted white bread.

It was in this manner that scrapple was served at my grandparents’ trailer in Chincoteague, to a line of kids and about half as many adults before the tedious ritual of beach preparations or fishing trips.

Scrapple, Lexington Market

I checked with my grandmother and she says that she remembers eating scrapple her whole life. She also remembers ‘Panhas’ as a distinct but similar food from scrapple with a higher cornmeal content, whereas William Woys Weaver’s wonderful book “Country Scrapple” gives the impression that they are in fact the same thing.

My grandmother also stated that she believed scrapple originated in the South. This is a common misconception but scrapple is a Pennsylvania, Delaware and Maryland thing – with possible Native American and definite German origins, as well as regional adaptations and variations such as the Cincinnati specialty “Goetta,” featuring oats in lieu of cornmeal. Early recipes often featured buckwheat flour, and the selection of organs and meats used seems to vary to this day.

According to Weaver, the oldest datable recipe for American scrapple comes from Elizabeth Ellicott Lea, a Marylander (as the name makes clear) and Quaker who published her cookbook “Domestic Cookery” in 1845.
It is also stated that “the oldest scrapple maker still in business is Hemp’s in Jefferson Maryland,” founded in 1849.
Before that time, scrapple was made at home, often outdoors and in conjunction with sausage making.

“One [industrial era scrapple manufacturer] company does merit a mention, as it is a reminder that Baltimore is as much a scrapple town as Philadelphia. (Mencken disagrees – ed.) Henry Green Parks Jr. (1917-89), an African-American. began Parks Sausage Company in Baltimore in 1951. He converted an old dairy plant and soon put himself in open competition with firms like Rapa, which was essentially a Baltimore label. “More Parks sausages, Mom,” on radio advertisements is still remembered by many people today. The well-known Parks scrapple was the only Afircan-American brand to become a household word on a regional level.“ – Country Scrapple, William Woys Weaver

Parks went under and was bought by Dietz & Watson in 1999.

Source: Observer-Reporter, 1996

I’ve long held a defensiveness over the bad rep that Scrapple gets due to its name, and in the past I’ve jumped on the opportunity to serve it right. This however was my first time making it from scratch.

I started with a recipe for Scrapple from Mrs. J Morsell Roberts from “Eat, Drink & Be Merry in Maryland” but I also referenced a recipe from “Maryland’s Way,” the Hammond-Harwood House cookbook, and one from ”Chesapeake Bay Cooking“ by John Shields. His book is an excellent cookbook in itself but a valuable cross-reference for some of these minimal old recipes.

It’s lucky for us that Scrapple is so visually appealing because I haven’t found any good images for Mrs. or Mr. J Morsell Roberts.

The extent of my information is this:

Mr. J. Morsell Roberts died [1937 at] Calvert County Hospital.
Mr. Roberts was a member of an old Calvert county family, a son of the late Richard Roberts and Henrietta Morsell Roberts, and was very well known…. He was the husband of Mrs. Mollie Bond Roberts. – Calvert Gazette on mdhistory.net

I picked up a jowl at Lexington Market but I had to get the liver from a butcher shop. Perhaps I could have just gotten both at the latter and worked without the smoky jowl. I rinsed it, and the smoke flavor isn’t bad or overwhelming but it isn’t necessary.

Hog parts, Lexington Market

I also made my scrapple quite fatty. This was my first hog jowl experience. They are all fat. Weaver claims that the amount of fat included in scrapple increased over time due to various cultural factors. Mine may have taken it to new extremes. His book contains many recipes for scrapple. I intend to try some more this summer.
Lastly, my scrapple was a bit mushy. In a way, the mushiness ensured that it must be cooked properly, as it was impossible to flip until it had been well-crisped on one side.

There could be more to explore with scrapple in the future. Frankly, before reading Weavers book I had underestimated its very Maryland-ness. Any remnant of shame over this repulsive delight is purged from within me.

Recipe:

1 hog jowl
1 pork liver
salt
pepper, black
sage and/or other seasonings of choice
cornmeal
flour

Boil the jowl until the meat falls from the bone. (I did this in the slow cooker and added some onions I had to add flavor to the stock. Removed the onions later.) Save liquor it is boiled in. In a separate dish, soak the liver, changing water several times. Boil liver in separate water from jowl; throw this water away. Run all the meat through sausage cutter, then throw it in the reserved stock, season with salt, pepper, sage or other desired seasonings. Thicken with cornmeal the consistency of thin mush. Chill in a pan. To fry, heat a skillet with a very small amount of oil. Dredge slices in flour and fry until very crisp, turning once.