For the Love of Heirlooms

From the sun-warmed soil of South Carolina, a quiet revival is taking place—one rooted in memory, flavor and the grit of generations of farmers. Heirloom produce, once nearly lost to industrial farming, is finding its way back to farmers markets and Southern kitchens, each variety holding hidden stories—of survival, adaptation and identity—that stretch back centuries.

“Cooking for me, as a chef, includes storytelling, trade connected to migration and, of course, pride. You can look at it as a living archive. It’s where land, labor, legacy and love all intersect or come together in one pan.”
— Kevin Mitchell

“The growing of ingredients encompasses climate, geography, cultural influence and economics and power,” says South Carolina Chef Ambassador Kevin Mitchell, who coauthored the book Taste the State: South Carolina's Signature Foods, Recipes, and Their Stories. To Mitchell, these ingredients are more than culinary choices; they’re historical records.

Take the Bradford watermelon, cultivated around 1840 by Nathaniel Bradford. The dark-green melon was once the gold standard of Southern sweetness before falling out of favor in the 20th century due to its thin rind, which made it difficult to transport long distances (though excellent for pickling). For years, it was thought extinct—until Bradford’s descendant, farmer and horticulturist Nat Bradford, resurrected the family heirloom on his Sumter farm. Today, it's prized by chefs and heritage seed savers alike, a symbol of flavor enjoyed best at its moment of peak ripeness.

Then there’s Jimmy Red corn, a garnet-hued variety of Native American corn that eventually made its way to South Carolina and became the darling of moonshiners for its high sugar content. Nearly extinct in the early 2000s, it was revived thanks to a pair of ears rescued by James Islander Ted Chewning, who selected the best seeds and grew them in a secluded area on his farm to avoid cross-contamination. Today, the corn’s rich oils and nutty flavor underpin everything from Marsh Hen Mill’s stone-ground grits to High Wire Distilling’s bourbon whiskey.

Even the humble tomato tells quite a tale. With their imperfect shapes and vivid hues—from deep crimson to dusky rose—heirloom varieties like Cherokee Purple, Brandywine and Goose Creek are deeply rooted in South Carolina. The Goose Creek tomato carries a poignant past: its seeds have been passed down through generations since the 1800s, when farmer Jimmy Watson’s great-great-grandmother—a young Caribbean woman enslaved and transported to South Carolina—secretly carried them aboard a ship that docked near Goose Creek. Today, these tomatoes are celebrated in quintessential Southern dishes like tomato pie and tomato sandwiches.

In the Gullah Geechee communities of the Sea Islands, heirloom crops aren’t just ingredients—they’re a link to cultural heritage. “That’s the thing with heirlooms; it’s not just the seeds. It’s the stories and the places that they came from,” says Ira Wallace, author of Grow Great Vegetables in South Carolina. “And if you don’t save that story, a lot of that is lost.” Sea Island red peas, a heritage variety of cowpeas, are deeply tied to African diasporic foodways that have endured for generations. Small, maroon and rich with a creamy, earthy flavor, they’re essential to Lowcountry dishes like Hoppin’ John. Sea Island blue corn reflects the agricultural traditions of Indigenous tribes like the Chicora, who once cultivated these lands and likely used the corn in ceremonial practices. 

Carolina Gold rice, once nearly lost after the Civil War, has returned as the signature grain of the Southern culinary revival—its subtle, buttery texture a reminder of the region’s historic role in global agriculture. Now, local producers like Anson Mills and Marsh Hen Mill are keeping these heirloom varieties—and the stories behind them—vibrantly alive.

Slice of the South

The tomato sandwich is more than lunch; it’s a love letter to Southern summers, backyard gardens and slowing down to savor what the season brings. It’s simple yet satisfying: Thick, juicy slices of late-summer tomato, a generous swipe of tangy Duke’s mayonnaise and a sprinkle of salt and pepper, all nestled between two slices of soft, white bread. While variations exist—some insist on flake salt, others sneak in a dash of hot sauce—most agree: don’t overthink it.