Special to Jasper Online
photo by Marcum Core
I can’t look at a bunch of greens without thinking about my grandmother, Birdie Shivers, and my aunt, Betty Jean Carlisle. Both were incredible cooks, the kind who could turn humble ingredients into meals that made you feel loved and full in every sense of the word. Spending time with them in the kitchen was a privilege—and a lesson in patience, humility, and flavor.
My grandmother, Birdie, was the queen of efficiency. She ruled her kitchen with precision, and if you weren’t actively helping, she wanted you out of the way. Watching her cook was like watching a master at work: her hands moved quickly, expertly rinsing, and seasoning greens with an ease that only comes from decades of experience. There was no measuring—just a pinch of this, a splash of that, and somehow, it always came out perfect. I had a dedicated spot in the breakfast nook that allowed me to see everything, soaking up her techniques like a sponge. My favorite was when she would mix turnip and mustard greens. Tender greens was the term she used for that combination.
I have always appreciated the regional and familial nuances in soul food cooking. Birdie, hailing from Detroit, MI by way of Sardis, MS was from the school of stem removal and would talk about people left “All dem stems” in their collard greens. Perhaps that’s why she enjoyed mixing mustards and turnips because the stems weren’t so robust and the whole leaf could be used.
I always looked forward to being Aunt Betty Jean’s little helper in the kitchen. I was much younger when she looked after me, but old enough to help her shell peas and mix the cornbread batter. She’d hum a song while she was preparing the meal which typically (while I was in town visiting at least) included collards. The most rememberable thing about my Aunt Betty’s greens were how fine they were chopped. They were chopped before cooking and chopped even more after they were done cooking and not served with pot liquor versus my grandmother who left all of the liquid in the pot. Come to find the technique my Aunt Betty used is common in Eastern North Carolina, Goldsboro. I grew up eating their greens. Both are very different styles but with similarities. They both believed in removing the stems and cooking intentionally with love.
The smell of simmering collard greens was like an embrace. It filled the house and signaled that something good was coming. By the time dinner was ready, the greens were tender and infused with a depth of flavor that only slow cooking can create. They were served alongside cornbread, black-eyed peas, and whatever else was on the menu, but for me, the greens were always the star.
Now, every time I make greens, I think of Birdie and Betty Jean.
Their lessons weren’t just about cooking. They were about life: finding joy in the process, taking time to do things right, and sharing what you create with the people you love. Every pot of greens I make is a tribute to them, to their wisdom, and to the countless meals that brought our family together.
So, when I look at a bunch of greens, I see more than just a vegetable. I see my heritage, my family, and the women who showed me that food is love. And no matter how many times I make them, greens will always taste better when seasoned with their memories.
MIDIMarc, also known as MIDIMarcum, is a music producer and recording engineer from Hopkins, SC, with over 20 years of influence in South Carolina’s hip-hop scene. Renowned for his mastery of sampling, he has remixed albums by icons like Nas and Jay-Z, created tribute projects honoring Michael Jackson, The Notorious B.I.G., and Pimp C, and earned accolades such as Jasper Magazine’s 2018 Artist of the Year. A 5x Beat Battle Champion and creator of the instrumental series Prolific, he has collaborated with key South Carolina artists like Master Splnta and DJ Cannon Banyon, cementing his legacy as a pioneer and inspiration in the state’s hip-hop culture.
