• Summer Magazines

    beach plums Beach plums are nothing new.

    For generations, locals have gathered the small, tart plums along roadsides and in the dunes, mostly for jellies and jams.

    The fruit is much smaller than the European or Asian plums, to which it is related, and when ripe can range in size from about a pea, to a Bing cherry, or the size of a grape tomato for a really big one.

  • Summer Magazines

    Economy and trend meet in canning revival

    It’s late summer, and for now we are awash in fresh, local food. Markets, produce counters and your neighbor’s garden overflow with tomatoes, squash and other goodies, but the leaves are falling and the first cold snap can’t be too far away.

    If only there were some way of preserving these summer flavors for the winter.

  • Summer Magazines

    Here’s one for Joe and Joanne Sixpack. 

    You know, regular folks. The common people. Those with taste.

    Let’s face it, beer gets a bad rap. Its reputation has improved in recent years, but for many, the world’s first alcoholic brew, and the most popular, is shorthand for plebian tastes. Think of Homer (Simpson, not the Illiad author) downing Duff Beer while sitting in the kitchen in his underwear.

  • Summer Magazines

     Doc Adams Through this season, in this space, readers have been enticed, cajoled and nagged to eat local food, and lots of it.

    Not this week.

    Instead, we’ll talk about what once was, and why it’s changed. And why one of the favorite fish for many anglers is now more or less off the menu.

  • Summer Magazines

    No one ever said farming was easy: especially farmers.

    Each year is either drought or too rainy, too cold for one crop or too hot for another, and if everything cooperates, if the season is absolutely perfect, then there’s a glut and the prices drop.

    In Cape May County, the amount of land under cultivation has dwindled for years, and in many cases folks whose parents and grandparents or great grandparents were farmers have decided to find something else to do.

  • Summer Magazines

    green beansWhen most folks think of organic farming, they tend to focus on the stuff added to a field that kills things, not what’s added to make things grow.

    The connection is clear and – for some – fairly visceral. Pesticides kill bugs, herbicides kill weeds and fungicides kill fungus, allowing the plants we like to eat to thrive. But many people question what happens when we eat the crops that have been treated with chemicals designed to kill, even if they are said to be harmless if used as directed.

    Others wonder what happens to the…

  • Summer Magazines

     Farm markets offer a direct connectionEverything you eat grew somewhere.

    In the meantime, it may have been canned, frozen, broiled, fried or processed beyond recognition, but somewhere, at some time, the last bite you’ve taken was alive, growing, in a field or a hothouse or a pen or a bay.

    It’s funny how easy that can be to forget.

  • Summer Magazines

     pizza So it’s unequivocally late summer. Garden ripe tomatoes are piling up in offices, being traded back and forth among neighbors and co-workers like the seashells of the Trobriand Islanders, only with an expiration date.

    Roving bands of teenagers are forcing brown bags of enormous zucchini on unsuspecting passers-by.

    And while we’re nowhere near out of topics, we’ve covered a lot of ground in this space already, exploring the variety of fresh, local food available to anyone who wants to look for it.

  • Summer Magazines

    crabs While the flavor is beloved, and many see a pile of steamed crabs, a nutcracker, a table full of friends and a cooler of beer as a vision of shore heaven, there is no denying they are, at first glace, not exactly the most appetizing creatures.

    An earlier column in this series referred to the red of a ripe strawberry as an invitation. Hardshell blue crabs offer no such invitation. Instead, they seem to make a pretty straightforward case to be left alone.

  • Summer Magazines

     Steve Bradley shows off some of the fruit from his backyard shrub. He said it’s at least 50 years old, maybe close to 100, and seems to be going strong. Figs are said to be one of the first plants humans ever cultivated, apparently beating out staples like wheat and rye by a good measure. Ancient texts mention the fruit from thousands of years before…




bottoms up> Tully Nut has been a secret for more than 40 years

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FT-BU-Tully-Nut-8-26 #1 Tavern

The Super Tully Nut is made at the #1 Tavern at First and Atlantic avenues.

But this is one drink you can’t make at home.

Only one person is said to know the secret recipe, and that’s Mark Tully, who first came up with the formula in 1969. Tully, whose real name is Romolo Leomporra, performed on Broadway and nightclubs with entertainers like Billie Holiday, Phyllis Diller and the Smothers Brothers.

He said he took the stage name of Mark Tully because he was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to get work using his own name.

After finishing a tour of the show “Bells Are Ringing” in the early 1960s, Tully came to North Wildwood and opened a small hotel. That venture eventually allowed him to buy the #1 Tavern.

The Super Tully Nut is the bar’s signature cherry-red drink, renowned for its potency and secrecy. Tully said that when he was experimenting with the formula, a few different versions were made first. There were two drinks using four liquor combinations and two drinks with five. He tested the concoctions on his family members and a few trusting employees, and they all picked what is known today as the Super Tully Nut as their favorite.

The one they chose is made with a combination of five different liquors – but Tully said the way it is put together is equally important.

“I have a special room where I make it in big vats. It takes about four days for all the ingredients to marry. Each day there is something I do to it until it's finished,” he said.

In 43 years, Tully said, he has never changed the formula.

Tully said he even has a plan for the secret recipe in the event of his death.

He said he has the recipe on audio, video and written down at a location that only one other person knows. That location, he said, can only be accessed by his wife, but even she isn’t privy to the secret.

“When I die, that person will tell my wife, and she'll be able to go there and get it,” he said.

And don’t try guessing the special combinations of five potent liquors, because even if a guess happens to be right, Tully won’t tell you.

 

 

This county loves to have a good time, especially when fancy microbrews, dirty martinis or a shot of Jack are involved. Follow Freetime reporter Lauren Suit each week as she hops the local bars to drink in Cape May County’s social scene and connect with the people who shake it and serve it.


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