Potlikker — A Myth
“Without labor, nothing prospers.” — Sophocles
To say times were tough is an unforgivable understatement. For hundreds of years, African folk were chained up, shipped over, and forced to work on cash crop plantations as slaves. The truth of the atrocity was violence, suffering, torture, but, as much as you wish you never had to see it, the resilience of those generations is storied and admirable among the best of ’em. They stuck together. They kept their eyes on freedom. They used unmatched wisdom to outwit their captors and jockey for every inch of advantage they could scrape out of their meager means. This brings us to our current curiosity.
See, many of these folk were tasked with cooking for the families of the plantationers enslaving them and their West-African flavors were particularly popular. Notably, collard greens cooked in a deep boil of pork fat and spices. The rich fond left over in the bottom of the pot was seen as unsavory and unfit for eating, so it was left to the slaves and often stretched with cornpone to give them the best shot at making it through the next day. This savory confection, “Potlikker” or the bastardized “Pot liquor” for those of the finer fare, was hailed across the land for its invigorating flavor and its almost mystical ability to sustain them folk through the worst of times. Mystical.
As far as science can tell us, collard greens and most greens in general are full of vitamins, minerals, and every kind of nutrient imaginable to promote vitality. Much to the chagrin of the plantationers though, the power in that nutrition is often boiled right out of the leaves they so craved and precipitated into the residue left-over in the pot. Slave food — Potlikker. In particular, we find a tremendous amount of vitamin K among the nutrients given to the reduction of Potlikker, but nothing…mystical. Nothing that can explain what is being claimed.
Oral history has passed down several stories of the courageous sacrifice of a man most often called Tom Boulder. Any first-hand accounts of Tom are either lost to time or were never recorded in the first place; nonetheless, the mystery shrouded therein is compelling enough to overlook some inconsistencies and dive into something truly mystical.
“Mastering others is strength; mastering yourself is true power.” — Lao Tzu
Tom was a man born into slavery and grown up on a Carolina plantation as so many did. His furrowed brow knew too well the sting of the sinister whip across his back — do he good or do he bad — but with every gash of his skin a stitch was tightened in his soul. When Tom was grown — most sources say around twenty-five to thirty years old — he was as tall and strong as his trials could make him and as obstinate to the accepted norms of enslavement as a sane mind would be in the face of plain injustice. Tom’s proclivity to disagree with the wishes of his slave-drivers earned him a reputation and a low-bar for punishment, yet Tom’s character also found him often sticking his neck out for others to protect them from harsher sentencing. This is just about all we know of the man that was Tom Boulder before his moment of legend.
“You never know how strong you are until being strong is your only choice.”— Bob Marley
Not much is said of who did it, but what we know is that one of the others enslaved with Tom stole from the plantation family. The accounts of what was stolen and the exact circumstances surrounding the theft are as weak as the justification for them folk being enslaved in the first place; double-standards aside, a friend was in big trouble and Tom’s appetite for self-sacrifice went against the advice of all his family and any who value a shred of well-being in the face of doom. All the enslaved folk were gathered to the house to witness a lynching that was to teach them that “God” punishes those who steal. Well none of the stories say that God was there at that whip-’n-hanging, but the Holy Spirit must’ve been moving in Tom because he protested at the front of the crowd and offered himself up in place of his friend. The crazy, wonderful fool.
Seeing the opportunity to justifiably rid themselves of the menace that was Tom Boulder, the plantation master heartily agreed to the trade and Tom was tied to the whipping post promptly. Fifty lashes across his neck, back, and legs was the introduction to his sentence and a short walk to the hanging tree would spell his end; however, it is noted that while Tom was strong and quite used to the pain of the lashing, the other enslaved folk saw that his wounds were not bleeding and that in fact some of them didn’t even break the skin. This prompted many to take note of just how peculiarly calm and confident Tom appeared to be with his fate. As the noose was hung ‘round his neck and tightened so the knot would ensure an end to this vigilante folk hero, Tom inexplicably declined his last rights and stepped straight off the platform on his own. The crowd understandably was in uproar at such a sight as this, but a few accounts recall that Tom’s face never broke and his neck like an enraged bull on the charge held off the sudden force of the noose to leave him alive. Hanging.
Story goes that the plantation master laughed it off as nothing more than a stunt, cursed Tom — spitting at his dangling feet — and said “Let him kick and hang all he wants. Won’t be long ‘til Tom Boulder starts to rot.” Tom was left for the rest of the day and night. Alive. Hanging. While his family and friends wept and slowly dispersed back to their shanties, a few recall that Tom was breathing comfortably and staring daggers at the master’s wicked son who pulled up a stool and sat watch ‘til the job was done. The next day came and then the day after that, and all the while Tom hung stalwart in his gaze and measured in his breathing. No food. No water. No rescue.
On the third morning after his hanging, a commotion broke out near the house where it was discovered that Tom was gone. His clothes a mess on the ground and the noose at hanging level, perfectly intact, but the hero of the plantation gone without a trace. An impromptu choir reportedly broke out singing for hours on end as the enslaved folk witnessed the “power of the Lord to forgive and save”, but to the skeptical few the question remained: how did Tom resist the lashing and the gallows up until his disappearance? No one knows for sure as Tom was never seen again, but the tales from that time always end with the same conclusion: Potlikker.
Ol’ wives tales spoke of its supernatural properties and parents would tell their children to eat it for “strength” and “vitality”, but no one ever explained what that meant. No one ever took an evidence-based approach to it. Now whether it was some true supernatural property or perhaps the power of the liquid passed down from divine intervention, the facts are that Tom had what appears to be a supernatural durability and that Tom was drinking Potlikker. Quite a lot of it apparently. He had quite an appetite for Potlikker infused cornbread and drank the stuff straight as well. Few in the know have ever spoken about the rumored properties of Potlikker outside the context of Tom’s story, and perhaps for good reason. Perhaps, if this story really is true, divine intervention meant this gift for those struggling through the hardest of hards. Those who know true pain, who know true generational suffering, will be the most apt to respect the great weight of such a gift and keep it close to their chest.
If there is some kind of magic in those greens…perhaps it is best that it remain as it is. Mystery.
