Page 1 Page 2 Page 3 Page 4 Page 5 Page 6 Page 7 Page 8 Page 9 Page 10 Page 11 Page 12 Page 13 Page 14 Page 15 Page 16 Page 17 Page 18 Page 19 Page 20 Page 21 Page 22 Page 23 Page 24 Page 25 Page 26 Page 27 Page 28 Page 29 Page 30 Page 31 Page 32 Page 33 Page 34 Page 35 Page 36 Page 37 Page 38 Page 39 Page 40 Page 41 Page 42 Page 43 Page 44 Page 45 Page 46 Page 47 Page 48 Page 49 Page 50 Page 51 Page 52 Page 53 Page 54 Page 55 Page 56 Page 57 Page 58 Page 59 Page 6040 YOU’VEfollowed precisely the listed ingredi- ents and the directions written generations ago in loopy cursive letters on a now-frag- ile, stained and yellowed slip of paper. You’ve closed your eyes and thought back to those hot afternoons in grand- ma’s kitchen as she cut butter into dough, fighting to recall some step you missed, something she did that you’ve left out. Try as you might, time and again, your biscuits just aren’t the same. There’s something off in the flavour. They’re good, but they’re not what you remember. You’re not crazy, and you’re not missing some gene that turned your ances- tors before you into amazing cooks. It turns out that no matter how hard you try, you are destined to fail because the ingredients that you painstakingly mix, knead and toil over aren’t the same as the ones grandma used so many decades before. The Green Revolution, a period from the 1930s to the 1960s in which sci- entific achievements significantly improved crop yields, saved countless lives. But it came with a trade-off. When new varieties of high-yielding wheat were introduced to the open market, growers eagerly adopted them, leaving behind varieties that had been mainstays in their fields for years. Purple Straw wheat, named for the colour of its stem and husk, was one of the varieties that went by the way- side in the 1970s. Known for being low-gluten, high-protein and with a flavour that includes floral overtones, its flour was a staple in southern Back Brink kitchens, used widely in biscuits and cakes, as well as whiskeys. Its distinct flavour, and the memories associated with it, were all but lost as the supply of seed was down to a batch held by the U.S. Department of Agriculture and rumours of an Amish farmer or two who included it in their fields. But thanks to the work of the Carolina Gold Rice Foundation and Brian Ward, a plant breeder at Clemson University, it might be worth trying that biscuit recipe again soon. From a quarter of a pound of Purple Straw seed planted last year, Ward expects to have lots of the seed in a couple years, ready to enter the market again for the first time in around 40 years. Saving Grain The effort to obtain that scant amount of grain began with the Carolina Gold Rice Foundation, an organization with a mission to sustainably restore and preserve Carolina Gold rice and other heirloom grains. David Shields, chair From a handful of seeds, a classic wheat is making a comeback. from the of the organization’s board and a food historian, found references to Purple Straw in literature and started tracing its history. Shields found that Purple Straw can be traced back to at least the 1730s and was a widely grown variety, valued for its durability and wholesomeness. But progress almost doomed the variety. “Other more productive wheats began to be pushed out by various university breeding programs, and others began adopting those in the hopes of more tonnage,” Shields says. “That’s not at all unusual in terms of any large-scale grain that has been superseded. When something was introduced that had a clear advantage — great disease resist- ance, or greater millability, or finer quality of flour — the old wheat would go by the wayside rather quickly.” The handfuls of Purple Straw seed were entrusted to Ward, who went Purple Straw wheat was grown on a farm in Salisbury, North Carolina, in 1939. Photo: NCSU Libraries Digital Collections. Much of the Purple Straw wheat seed being grown by Clemson University was obtained from the Sustainable Seed Co. in Chico, California. Photo: Sustainable Seed Co.