The cycle began with a call from the depot agent in Wild Rose in early April informing Ma that our chicks had arrived on the morning train and that we should stop by as soon as possible to pick them up. Ma had ordered them from a chicken hatchery in the southern part of the state: one hundred layers (egg-producing chickens) of the White Leghorn variety and fifty White Plymouth Rock broilers (chickens raised for meat).
Pa brought the little chicks home in large cardboard boxes divided into sections, with a dozen or so chicks in each section. He carried the boxes into the kitchen and placed them by the kitchen stove, one of the few warm places on the farm. Meanwhile, after the brooder house had been scrubbed and swept, Pa started the brooder stove, a wood- and coal-burning stove with a large tin canopy under which the little chicks could gather to keep warm. He filled the metal feeding troughs with chick feed and filled the glass water jars, which were specially designed so the chicks could easily drink. With the brooder house ready, he carried the chicks from the kitchen to their new home.
The chicks grew rapidly, and when they were about four weeks old, if the weather was mild, they were allowed outside in a small fenced-in grassy area adjacent to the brooder house. When the layers were about five months old, they would find a home in the chicken house, a low, one-story building with tall windows facing south and located just west of the farmhouse. The broilers were of both sexes, but the layers had been sexed, meaning there were supposed to be no roosters. But sexing baby chicks was as much an art as it was a science, and a few little roosters always made their way into the chicken flock. The broilers remained in the brooder house until they were large enough for butchering.
We raised three varieties of chickens: one for eggs, one for meat, and one just to look at and listen to. Laying hens were smaller than those raised for meat. Popular egg-producing breeds when I was growing up were White Leghorns, which laid white eggs, and Rhode Island Reds, which laid brown eggs. In those years the market was stronger for white eggs, so Ma raised only White Leghorns. Leghorn layers could also be expected to lay from 280 to 300 eggs per year, on average.
The broiler breed that Ma preferred was White Plymouth Rock. They did well on our farm, and they grew fast, usually ready for market about two months from the time they were little chicks falling over each other in the brooder house.
Pa enjoyed having a few bantam roosters around. They were colorful, in several shades of brown, bronze, and orange, and each had his own personality. Although they were usually only half the size of White Leghorn roosters, they did not let their size get in the way of their prowess. They strutted around the chicken yard liked they owned the place; the layers mostly ignored them. Occasionally a Leghorn rooster would stand up to a cocky little bantam rooster. The results were usually a draw. Confidence goes a long way in a rooster fight, and the little bantams had an overabundance of confidence.
The chickens were Ma’s project. She supervised the cleaning and disinfecting of the brooder house and enlisted Pa to buy the chick feed and, later, a special layer mash for the hens that encouraged egg production. She kept records of the kinds of feed purchased, the cost, and the income from the sale of eggs and broilers.
We all helped Ma with the chickens. My brothers and I gathered eggs each day. One of us fed and watered the growing chicks in the brooder house, and one of us was assigned to feed and haul water for the laying hens each afternoon. We laid cobs of corn on a large block of stovewood, chopped them into little pieces with a hatchet, and then fed the chopped cob corn to the layers, along with oats and layer mash.
The broilers would be butchered when they reached seven to nine weeks of age. Ma traded the dressed broilers for groceries at the Wild Rose Mercantile, but she always kept a few live ones for our own use and for relatives who came to visit. When we were expecting visitors on a Sunday, we butchered a broiler or two on Saturday afternoon. Ma believed that the flavor of fresh-butchered meat far exceeded that of anything purchased in a butcher shop or grocery store.
A laying hen, properly fed and cared for, could be expected to produce eggs for three to four years. Ma knew the age of the chickens in her flock because she placed a ring on each one’s leg when she moved them from the brooder house to the chicken house. Each year the ring was a different color—red, blue, green, yellow. By looking at the rings she knew how old the chicken was and whether its egg-producing years were waning.
Each fall, usually on a Saturday, we had a chicken butchering day at the farm. The previous evening, when the chickens were all on their roosts in the chicken house, Ma and Pa would enter with a chicken hook—a wooden pole about five feet long with a stiff wire hook on the end. When Ma pointed to a chicken, Pa slipped the hook over the chicken’s leg and captured it. Its egg-laying days were over. Pa put the captured chickens into a wire crate, one after the other, as Ma pointed out the ones that she deemed destined for the cook pot. On a particular night, as many as twenty-five or more old layers might be selected.
The following day, when the morning barn chores were finished, we began butchering the old layers. We all had a job to do. One of us cut the heads off the chickens, using the same hatchet and chopping block that we’d used to prepare their corn. Another was in charge of digging into the crate for the next chicken. Meanwhile, the headless chickens, much to the surprise and horror of any city cousin who might be visiting, ran in circles before falling dead. One of my brothers gathered up the dead chickens and carried them to where Pa had a pail filled with boiling water, the feather-plucking station. He immersed the carcass in the boiling water, pulled it out, and plucked off wet feathers that accumulated at his feet. When the chickens were free of feathers, Pa put them in a big wash pan and carried them into the house, where Ma was waiting at the kitchen table to remove the entrails, saving the livers and hearts in the process.
When all of the chickens were butchered, Pa and Ma cut the meat into chunks that would fit into canning jars. For the next couple of days, the kitchen was filled with the smell of chicken. Ma spent up to eight hours canning the chicken, laboring over the steaming kettle and lifting the jars to cool on the kitchen table before storing them on shelves in the cellar. All winter we feasted on chicken soup, fried chicken, and the occasional chicken casserole. The next April we would once more hear the peeping of little chicks, and the cycle would begin again.
• Broilers and fryers: Hens and roosters seven to nine weeks old and weighing about three pounds
• Roasters: Hens and roosters up to eight months old and weighing up to five pounds
• Stewing chickens: Hens no longer laying eggs and usually more than a year old. May weigh up to six or seven pounds. Meat is tougher than that of younger chickens.
• Capons: Castrated roosters. Tender and flavorful meat. Best when roasted.
Eggs were also an important part of our diet on the farm, a staple in our breakfasts and important for Ma’s baking. They were a dependable source of income as well, supplementing what we earned from the milk we sold, the crops we peddled, and the cash crops, such as potatoes and cucumbers. Ma traded eggs for groceries at the Mercantile in Wild Rose on Saturday night when we went to town. And she sold the excess eggs (at about thirty cents a dozen) to the egg man who made the rounds of the neighborhood with his truck once a week or so. The egg man paid cash on the spot. Ma used her “egg money” to buy Christmas and birthday presents and occasionally new clothes and shoes.
George and Mable Renkert, longtime friends of my mother who lived in Chicago, provided another market for Ma’s extra eggs. Every few weeks, she shipped them six dozen eggs in a wooden crate. My brothers and I looked forward to the return of the empty egg crate, which the Renkerts filled with comics from the Chicago Tribune. When the egg crate arrived, we hurried through our chores and then settled into reading the exploits of Dick Tracy, Flash Gordon, Joe Palooka, Jungle Jim, and the Phantom.
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Rinse the chicken with cool water. Dry with cloth or paper towels. Loosen the skin and rub the cavity of the chicken with salt if desired. (Use ½ teaspoon salt for each pound of chicken; do not salt the inside if you are using stuffing.) Rub the salt all over the outside of the chicken, including under the skin.
The rule of thumb is to allow 1 cup of stuffing to every pound of bird. (You can also bake the stuffing in a casserole separate from the bird. If it dries out, moisten it with chicken broth.) Stuff the chicken just before roasting, not ahead of time. Fill wishbone area of chicken with stuffing first. Close the cavity with a skewer. Fold the neck skin over back. Fasten with a skewer if necessary. Fold the wings back with tips touching and tie together with kitchen string. Tie the drumsticks to the tail.
Place the chicken breast side up on a rack in a shallow roasting pan. Brush the entire chicken with melted butter. No need to cover. Pour some chicken broth in the bottom of the pan.
Roast the chicken in the oven until brown, 1¾ to 2½ hours depending on the size. Spoon some of the pan juices over the chicken while roasting.
When chicken is two-thirds done, cut the string between the drumsticks to test for doneness. Chicken is done when the drumstick meat is soft and you can pull the drumstick up and down easily. (Use something to protect your fingers from the heat.) After taking the chicken out of the oven, let it rest for at least 10 minutes before carving.
Cook 3 tablespoons chopped onion in 2–3 tablespoons butter over low heat until it softens.
Combine onion and butter with 4 cups dry bread cubes, 1 teaspoon salt, ¼ teaspoon pepper, ¼ teaspoon poultry seasoning, and sage to taste. Add enough chicken broth to moisten. Toss to mix. This recipe makes enough for a 4-pound bird.
Giblets
Combine giblets from 1 chicken with a small onion, a celery rib, and some salt and pepper. Cover with water and cook until tender. Add other seasonings to taste. Cooking time varies depending on the age of the bird and the size. Remove the liver after cooking 20 minutes. Add the strained broth to your gravy. Use a food chopper to chop the cooked giblets and add them to the gravy.
Have all jars, lids, rings, and canning equipment thoroughly clean and in good condition.
Steam or boil a whole chicken until about two-thirds done. Remove all of the skin and bones. Pack the meat into hot, sterile jars, leaving 1-inch headspace. Add ½ teaspoon salt per pint jar or 1 teaspoon salt per quart jar.
Skim fat from broth. Bring the broth to a boil. Pour boiling broth over the chicken, leaving 1-inch headspace. Remove air bubbles by slipping a knife into the sides of the jars. Wipe the top of the jar before covering with the seal and lid. Process the pint jars for 1 hour and 15 minutes. Process quart jars for 1 hour and 30 minutes.
Carefully follow all safety and nutrition directions included with your jars and consult other canning resources if necessary. When using a pressure canner, follow all directions given by the manufacturer. Food products must be held at high temperature, 10 pounds pressure, to kill bacteria and prevent spoilage. For good basic instructions on canning and preserving, see Ball Complete Book of Home Preserving, edited by Judi Kingry and Lauren Devine (Toronto: Robert Rose, 2006).
4- or 5-pound chicken
1 peeled carrot
1 rib celery
1 medium onion
1 bay leaf
1 teaspoon salt
⅛ teaspoon pepper
2 sprigs of parsley
Celery salt or onion seasoning to taste
Clean chicken and remove skin and fat. Place chicken in a kettle with all vegetables, seasonings, and herbs. Add enough water to cover the chicken completely. Bring water to a boil. Reduce heat, cover, and simmer until the chicken is tender, up to 2 hours.
Remove chicken from the kettle; remove meat from the bones and refrigerate for other use. Return bones to the broth and simmer for another 45 minutes. Strain the broth with clean cheesecloth. To remove the fat from broth, skim it off with a spoon, or lay a paper towel on the surface of the top to soak off the fat, repeating with more paper towels until fat is removed. If possible, put the kettle in a cool place or refrigerate overnight. In the morning you can lift off the fat with a spoon.
Chicken stock should be cooled before storing in the refrigerator or freezer. Pour the stock into containers and let sit for 30 minutes, then refrigerate. If freezing, leave at least 1-inch headspace to allow for expansion.
1 fresh chicken, cleaned, skin removed, and cut into pieces
1 teaspoon salt
½ cup chopped celery
½ cup chopped carrots
6 medium potatoes, cubed (can substitute chopped rutabagas or turnips)
1 medium onion, chopped
Salt and pepper
Cooked noodles (optional)
Place cut-up chicken in a large pot of water, enough to almost cover it. Add the salt. Bring to a boil and then simmer until chicken is tender, about 1 hour. If needed, skim fat off the top. Remove the chicken from the broth. Take the meat off the bones. Cut some into 1-inch pieces for the soup. Refrigerate some for another recipe.
If liquid seems too thick, add water to the broth. Add the celery, carrots, potatoes, and onion. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Bring to a boil again. Lower the heat and simmer until the vegetables are soft. Then add as much cooked chicken as you like. Add cooked noodles to the soup, if desired.
6 hard-cooked eggs, peeled and rinsed
3 tablespoons mayonnaise
½ teaspoon white vinegar
½ teaspoon dry mustard
¼ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon pepper
Lettuce leaves and paprika, for serving
Carefully cut hard-cooked eggs in half lengthwise. Use a spoon to slip out the yellow yolks. Mash the yolks with a fork in a bowl. Mix in mayonnaise, vinegar, mustard, salt, and pepper. Fill each egg half with the yolk mixture. Arrange lettuce on a platter. Put eggs on top of lettuce. Sprinkle with paprika.
Egg Salad Sandwich
4 hard-cooked eggs, peeled and rinsed
Salt and pepper to taste
1 tablespoon mayonnaise
Pickle relish to taste
Buttered bread slices and lettuce leaves, for serving
Slice the eggs in half; remove yolks and set aside. Chop the whites. Force the yolks through a potato ricer. Gently mix yolks and whites and season with salt and pepper. Moisten the egg mixture with mayonnaise and a bit of pickle relish. Spread mixture on buttered bread and top with lettuce.