Being a southern country girl, born and raised on an island without a bridge in a place that some folks would call the sticks, I can say that I’ve been blessed to know hard times. I learned what they were like growing up on Daufuskie. Each day was a challenge for us as kids. But poor or not, we ate like kings and queens, and we shared with those that needed our help. Hard work and good food went together; it was as if we had to do one in order to get and enjoy the other. Our gathering together at the table was a special time for us. While people in many places were moving away from the old-fashioned ways, we stayed the same.
Cooking is a passion for me, and I love to share what I cook because it is also a gift and an art. Food tastes like what you put into it. As long as you add some love to your “fixin’ and mixin’,” then love is going to be what you get back.
These are some of my favorite sandwiches, and I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.
Makes 2 or 3 sandwiches. Wow! What a great sandwich to fix and eat.
1 dozen large or jumbo shrimp, peeled, deveined, and split open
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 heaping teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon paprika
1½ cups oil
1 medium-sized onion, sliced in rings
1 large egg
½ cup milk (whole or skim)
1 cup flour
1 teaspoon mayonnaise
1 teaspoon mustard
2 slices bread
1–2 pieces lettuce
1–2 slices tomato
Wash and drain the shrimp; use a paper towel to remove excess water if necessary. Place the shrimp in a medium bowl and add the salt, pepper, garlic powder, and paprika. Toss the shrimp to coat with the seasoning and then set aside in the refrigerator until ready to use.
Heat the oil in a skillet over medium heat. When it gets hot, add the onion slices and sauté. When the onion is as soft as you like it, remove it from the oil. Leave the oil in the skillet with the heat on very low until you are ready to fry the shrimp.
Beat the egg and milk together well in a bowl. Put the flour in another bowl or in a paper or plastic bag. Turn heat under the oil to medium-high for frying. Remove the seasoned shrimp from the refrigerator and place them in the egg and milk mixture, swish them around to coat well, and let them sit for a minute or two. Remove the shrimp one at a time and place them in the flour, coating each well. Shake off excess flour before placing the shrimp in the heated oil. Fry the shrimp until light or golden brown on each side. Remove the fried shrimp and place them on a paper towel to drain the excess oil.
In a small bowl, combine the mayonnaise and mustard. Spread both slices of bread with the mayonnaise and mustard mixture, then place a piece of lettuce on one or both slices of bread, add a slice or two of ripe tomato, and top off with shrimp. Place the other slice of bread on top. Cut in half or get a good grip. Take a big bite and love the goodness.
Makes 2 sandwiches.
1 cup oil
2–4 soft-shell crabs
salt and black pepper for seasoning crabs
garlic powder for seasoning crabs
½ cup milk (whole or skim)
2 eggs, beaten
flour for coating crabs
Sauce
1 teaspoon mayonnaise
1 teaspoon mustard
2 dashes garlic powder
1–2 dashes hot sauce, optional
For Each Sandwich
2 slices bread
1–2 pieces lettuce
1–2 slices tomato, optional
Heat the oil in a skillet over medium heat. Rinse the soft-shell crabs under running water and let drain. Season the crabs to taste with salt, black pepper, and garlic powder. Put the flour in a bowl or paper bag. In a bowl, mix the milk and eggs. Place the crabs in the milk and egg mixture and toss until coated. Place them in the bowl or bag with the flour and shake or toss, coating the crabs well. Remove one crab at a time from the flour and place them in the hot oil. Let them fry until golden brown on both sides. When done, remove the crabs and place them on a paper towel to drain the excess oil.
In a small bowl, mix the sauce ingredients. Spread two slices of bread with the sauce; layer lettuce, tomato (if you like), and soft-shell crab. Top with bread and have yourself a delight.
Makes 2–3 sandwiches.
¼ cup oil
½ pound crabmeat, white and claw
½ medium-sized onion, diced
¼ medium-sized green bell pepper, diced
¼ medium-sized red bell pepper, diced
pinch dried thyme
salt and black pepper for seasoning crabmeat
1 slice bread per sandwich
Sauce
1 teaspoon mayonnaise
1 teaspoon mustard
2 dashes garlic powder
Heat the oil in a skillet. In a bowl, mix the crabmeat, onion, green and red bell pepper, thyme, and salt and pepper to taste. Place the crabmeat mixture in the hot oil and let fry to the texture you desire. Remove the crabmeat and drain the excess oil on a paper towel. Combine the sauce ingredients and spread on a slice of bread; add cooked crabmeat on top of the bread. Cut into bite-sized portions to eat.
Makes 2 sandwiches.
2–3 medium fillets of fish, your choice, clean and damp dried
1 teaspoon garlic powder
salt and black pepper to taste
vegetable oil cooking spray
½ onion, sliced in rings
4 slices bread
For Broiling
2–3 tablespoons lemon juice
½ cup water
Combine the garlic powder, salt, pepper, and paprika and sprinkle them evenly on both sides of the fish fillets.
If you are baking the fish, lightly coat a baking pan with cooking spray, place the fish in the pan, and place the onion rings over and around the fish. Place the fish in a preheated oven at 350° and let bake for about 15 to 20 minutes—the cooking time will depend on the thickness of the fish and how done you like it. As soon as the fish is ready, remove it from the hot pan; otherwise it will continue to cook.
If you want to broil the fish, preheat the broiler in your oven. Place the fish in a pan coated with cooking spray. Place the onion rings over and around the fish and pour the lemon juice and water over the fish and onions. Cover the pan with foil, then place it in the oven and let the fish cook until done, about 15 to 20 minutes, or to your preferred taste. Do not overcook the fish or it will be too dry.
Put the tasty fish between 2 slices of bread and enjoy.
Makes 2 sandwiches. Hello, oyster lovers!
½–1 pound oysters
1 cup oil
⅔ cup flour
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon black pepper
2 large eggs
⅔ cup whole milk
2–4 pieces lettuce
4 slices tomato
4 slices bread
sandwich spread—whatever kind you like
Drain the oysters well. Heat the oil in a medium or large skillet on medium high heat. In a bowl, combine the flour, salt, black pepper, and garlic powder. In a second bowl, beat the eggs, then add the milk and mix together. Add the oysters to the milk and egg mixture and coat well. Remove them and place them in the flour mixture. Coat the oysters well and shake off any excess flour. Place the oysters in the hot oil and fry them until they are lightly brown, or to the level of crispiness you prefer. Oysters do not take long to cook, so please watch closely. You may fry your oysters crispy or soft. When oysters are fried hard, they shrink more. Remove the oysters and place them on a paper towel to absorb the excess oil. Put your favorite sandwich spread on 2 slices of bread, add lettuce and tomato, then stack on as many oysters as you like and dig in.
Soups were part of our diet several times a week. As soon as we children left for school, Momma or Pop would put on a long pot of bean soup, pea soup, or beef stew. We called this a “long pot” because it cooked all day long on the woodstove while we were at school—we didn’t have crock pots then—and when we came home, the soup would be ready for us as a late lunch.
Momma and Pop were as good at making soups as they were at everything else they made. And they were both great cooks; I remember the evenings of their competitions in the kitchen and conversations around the wood heater or dinner table, recalling the days of going into the woods to get wagonloads of wood pulled by our cow, Bobby. Pop cut piles of it, enough to last for two or three days.
These days I enjoy sitting alongside Momma’s bed as we spend hours talking about life on Daufuskie and the many meals we shared and the good times we spent together in the kitchen fixing and mixing, sharing moments that are now memories. Momma often wishes she could wake up to the rooster crowing back on Daufuskie, where she could walk outside and pick up a rake or hoe for her garden, throw some cracked corn to her chickens as they gathered around her feet to feed, or even carry a bucket of slop to the oinking hogs in the pen. She also wishes she could go back to fishing at the public dock or down at the creek.
Momma is a great-grandmother of 14 and great-great-grandmother of 16. She says if she was able she’d “tak’em all to ’Fuskie to be wit.” I can see her now, hollering at them while they have fun running freely in the backyard, playing in the dirt, and chasing the animals.
Momma is no longer able to put on her favorite handmade apron and skip around the kitchen rattling pots and pans, sending wonderful aromas throughout the house. But I am able to do that, and I still depend on all that she knows.
Today we have the pleasure of cooking faster or slower to suit our schedules; nevertheless we know how we like our food to taste. Technology has given us the ability to cook while we leave the house to do many other things. The one thing it can’t give us is how to share from the heart. Today I try to teach my kids how wonderful it is to bring joy to one’s heart with good home cooking.
Whether you are a country, apron-wearing cook or a city, high-heel-stepping cook, share it and bring what you know to the table. And don’t forget to do it the way your momma or grandmomma showed you.
When I get in my car and drive from Savannah to Hilton Head to catch a boat over to my home on Daufuskie, I get happy! Going back home makes me happy because my memories never leave me. The boat ride helps put me in a soothing mood. I still love the feeling that I get when I take my shoes off and walk down a dirt road or path, places where we—my sisters, my friends, and I—spent many hours running with bare feet.
The memories of yesterday take me back to Grandmomma’s house, remembering how many times we ran and chased each other there. Or the trouble we used to get into. I can almost hear our voices as we played with each other or chased a chicken around the coop so Grandmomma could make her favorite soup. Making good chicken soup is one thing, but raising a yardful of chickens and picking out the right one or two is something else.
Momma used to trade a hen or rooster with other island natives to mate with what they had. They said it made the breed of the chicken better and they would grow bigger. Momma was one of a few who loved her birds; she had a yard full of chicken, ducks, turkeys, geese, and guineas, and it was our job to help her take good care of every one of them.
At one time Momma even had a few chickens that laid blue and green eggs. My sisters and I wondered if the egg inside was going to be the same color as the eggshell outside, but to our surprise it wasn’t. We used to like it when a chicken laid her eggs, because the hen would cackle, letting us know what she had done. After a hen had finished laying all of her eggs, she would be ready to hatch them so that she could have dibbies—baby chicks. Momma would have us help her gather the rest of the eggs in the big bowl that she kept in a safe, cool place in the house.
Momma would take the eggs to the chicken coop, where she would take a sharpened pencil and carefully make scratch marks around each egg. She would count out about two dozen for each setting hen and place the marked eggs in the nest of the chicken that was ready to set. Marking the eggs helped identify them just in case a hen that was laying and not setting found her way to the wrong nest.
The setting hen would sit on the eggs for five to six weeks before the baby chicks would break open the shells with their beaks, then wiggle out, all wet, before drying into a cute cuddly dibby. Sometimes one or two of the eggs would not hatch, but Momma always knew that this could happen. She said this is where the saying comes from that you should never count your chickens before they hatch.
Sometimes at night, when everyone was in bed, all of a sudden the chickens, ducks, and turkeys would cackle, quack, and gobble, making lots of noise and waking everyone up. Pop would yell for us to get up and go outside with a flashlight to see what was going on. Most of the time it would be a snake with a bellyful of eggs and the birds were trying to make it go away. Other times there would be an opossum trying to get across the chicken wire fence to catch a chicken for his meal.
We would yell out to Pop, letting him know why the chickens were restless. He would come running with his double-barreled shotgun to take care of the matter. When all of the excitement was over, we would be ready to go back to bed, hoping the rest of the night would be quiet.
1 whole chicken, cut up and deboned
⅓ cup oil
2 stalks celery, chopped
1 large onion, chopped
1 medium-sized green bell pepper, chopped
2 quarts chicken broth or water
1 teaspoon dried thyme
2 bay leaves (optional)
1 cup carrots, chopped
1½ cups uncooked noodles
salt and black pepper to taste
Wash the chicken and let it drain. You can remove the skin, but the oil from the skin helps give the soup more flavor. Place the chicken pieces in a large pot with the oil, 1 stalk celery, half the onion, and the bell pepper; cook for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the broth or water, thyme, bay leaves, and remaining celery stalk and onion; let cook for 25 to 30 minutes. Add the carrots and noodles; taste and add salt and pepper as desired. Let simmer or slow cook for about 30 minutes. Taste and add whatever seasoning you think you need. Cook some more or scoop into a bowl and enjoy.
My momma served up her home-cooked meals to many folks from far and near for years. She had a way of making a little bit stretch into a lot. Her love for cooking was her joy, and you could taste it with every bite. She could cook and set a table with the best belly-filling meals. Momma loved cooking for anyone that wanted to eat, and she always liked to see smiles on folks’ faces when they were through. When friends, guests, or even strangers had a meal at her table, they knew they had eaten some of the best cooking to be found down South.
One of everyone’s favorites was her famous okra gumbo; people just couldn’t get enough of it. Momma is an okra lover herself, and she never let them down. On occasion she would add something different to change the flavor. She knew what a difference it would make to add seafood to her gumbo. I always enjoyed being in the kitchen with Momma. The only time I wanted out was when it came time for her to put the okra in her gumbo because I didn’t like the smell; then she would remind me to leave the kitchen.
Momma’s guests loved everything she placed on the table. Some would ask her how she made such a delicious meal as they raved about her gumbo. They would eat second and sometimes third helpings. Momma would wait to clear the table, smiling proudly, and say, “Oh dat wasn’t nuttin’ to fix. I jus’ throw sumptin together wit’ what I had.”
Not being able to eat okra or stand the smell of it cooking is a birthmark for me, but for those of you who think it makes the best gumbo in the whole wide world, enjoy it. My blessing is with all of you, and I hope you eat enough each time you sit down, just like those who ate at my momma’s table.
Disyah da way Momma show me.
2 pieces fatback bacon
2 pieces smoked neck bone
2 quarts hot water
2 14½-ounce cans stewed tomatoes
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 bay leaf
1 teaspoon dried thyme
2–3 cloves garlic, diced
1 stalk celery, diced
1 large onion, diced
1½ dozen littleneck clams
½–1 pound lump crabmeat
1 pound medium-large shrimp
3–4 cups okra, sliced
1½ teaspoons sugar
salt and black pepper to taste
Once you have gathered all of the ingredients, take out a large soup pot and place it over medium heat. First, fry the fatback bacon; when it is done, remove and set aside, leaving the rendered fat in the pot. Add the neck bone, pig tail, and hot water to the pot and let boil for about 30 minutes. Stir in the tomatoes, tomato paste, bay leaf, thyme, garlic, celery, onion, clams, and fatback bacon. Let this cook for about 30 to 40 minutes, stirring occasionally. The soup should begin to thicken. Add the crabmeat, shrimp, okra, and sugar, plus salt and pepper to taste. Let this cook for about 20 to 30 minutes, stirring occasionally. If the soup gets too thick and you need to add more water, make sure it is hot.
Folks like me just can’t eat enough shrimp, no matter how you fix ’em. I am a shrimp lover and hope you are, too.
When Pop used to sit in his favorite chair knitting on his shrimp and mullet nets, he would sometimes whistle a familiar tune, usually a church song that he loved. It was a real treat for us to learn his favorite skill, but there was something better on our mind, like running around outside as much as possible.
Knitting a cast net took a lot of time, patience, and close attention. Knitting his cast nets was as good as gold for Pop. When he picked up his knitting needle and yarn, it was all he needed for the moment. Sometimes, after hours of knitting, one of the wooden needles would break. Pop would stamp his feet and shout out a bad word. He would go into the woods the following day and look for the right size tree to cut down. Using a tool called a shaver, he would shave a piece of wood into shape. We were always his assistants holding the wood steady. Once the wood was shaved, he would use his pocket knife to patiently carve a new knitting needle or two so he could finish the job.
Shrimp Creole wasn’t what Momma called this dish, but she made it almost the same way. She just called it shrimp stew.
½ cup oil
1 large onion, cut in medium wedges
1½ stalks celery, chopped
1 large green bell pepper, chopped
1 large red bell pepper, chopped
1 14½-ounce can whole or stewed tomatoes
1 6-ounce can tomato sauce
2 bay leaves
2–3 cups hot water
salt and black pepper
2 pounds shrimp, peeled and deveined
½ teaspoon sugar
Heat the oil in a large pot over medium heat; add the onion, celery, and bell peppers. Sauté for 2 to 3 minutes. Add the tomatoes, tomato sauce, bay leaves, and water. Stir, then add salt and pepper to taste. Let boil for 30 to 45 minutes; turn down heat and let simmer on low for an additional 30 to 45 minutes. Add the shrimp and sugar about halfway through the simmering process. You can spice this up with a bit of hot sauce or hot pepper if you like, but be careful how much you add. It’s great alone, but it is also good over rice, potatoes, or noodles.
Even though we children had to eat all of the vegetables on our plates, we didn’t complain. Pop was strict with us about eating what was on our plates or going without. Our vegetables were always cooked tender, not left crunchy. Momma would do her best to make them taste good to us. She would always remind us that vegetables were good and would help make us strong if we ate enough.
All of our vegetables were homegrown. We were eating organic long before it was a trend. To help keep the bugs away we used cool ashes from the woodstove and heater. Our soil was treated with chicken, horse, pig, or cow manure—all natural. The manure did not have a pleasant scent, but it certainly helped make the vegetables bigger.
We didn’t grow some vegetables—like broccoli, cauliflower, and eggplant—because Pop and Momma didn’t care for them. Momma would plant a few beets every now and then. I like these vegetables and cook them as often as I can. You can add your favorite vegetables to this soup and have a good time.
2–3 pieces fatback bacon or smoked ham
1 large onion, diced
8–10 cups chicken broth or water
1½ cups frozen or fresh green beans, limas, or butter beans
1½ cups frozen or fresh whole-kernel corn
1½ cups frozen or fresh sweet peas
1½ cups frozen or fresh diced carrots
1 teaspoon dried thyme
1 teaspoon or more crushed garlic
1 cup frozen or fresh chopped broccoli (optional)
1–2 bay leaves
salt and black pepper to taste
In a large pot, fry the fatback bacon. Add the onion and cook for a couple of minutes. Add the broth, beans, corn, peas, carrots, thyme, and garlic. Let cook on medium heat for 45 minutes. Stir, then add the broccoli and bay leaves. Add salt and pepper to taste. Cook for another 30 minutes, or until the beans are tender. You can add potatoes if you like a thicker soup.
1 head cabbage
3 slices smoked bacon
1½ cups hot water
salt and black pepper to season
Cut the cabbage into quarters and then cut each quarter in half. Wash the cabbage under running water. Place in a colander to drain well. Fry the bacon in a medium-sized pot; add the drained cabbage to the pot. Be careful while doing this because the hot grease from the bacon will splatter and could burn you. Stir-fry the cabbage for about 1 to 2 minutes, then add the water and salt and pepper to taste. Let cook on medium heat until the cabbage is as tender as you desire.
When you think of eating chili, most times it’s when the weather is cool. But eating chili can be good all year round, whether you like your chili with beans or ground meat, hot or mild. As with most soups today, it is easier for us to put it all in a crock pot and be on our merry way. Here is one way that I like to cook up a big pot of good chili. Some like it with beef; I like it with beef and pork. This is a real treat.
Disyah da way fa do it.
2 pounds lean ground beef
3½ cups onion, chopped
1½ heaping tablespoons garlic, minced
⅓ cup green bell pepper, chopped
⅓ cup red bell pepper, chopped
3 tablespoons chili powder
4½ cups fresh tomatoes, diced
¾ cup tomato paste
1 teaspoon ground cumin
2 bay leaves
black pepper
⅔ teaspoon dried oregano
4 cups red kidney beans (optional)
1½ cups shredded cheddar cheese
In a large soup pot, brown the ground beef and pork. Add the onion, garlic, and bell peppers. Cook over medium heat until tender. Add the chili powder, tomatoes, tomato paste, cumin, bay leaves, black pepper, and oregano. Mix well and let simmer slowly for 1½ to 2 hours, stirring occasionally. You may add kidney beans at this time and cook for another 30 to 40 minutes. Stir in the cheese. Turn off the heat and dish up a bowlful of some belly-filling chili.
Black-eyed pea soup has always been one of my favorites, and Momma would cook it up for me whenever I asked. She knew that we didn’t ask for much.
Before Grandmomma or Momma would put their beans or peas in water to soak, they would pick through them. I used to love putting the peas in a bowl and picking out the bad ones. I would race off to the front porch, hoping to find the swing empty. Then I would climb up, get comfortable, and hold my head down in the bowl to find all the bad peas and throw them away. Momma would usually give us about 30 minutes to do this job while she got other things ready in the kitchen. We would bring in the bowl of peas, and she would add them to the meat. But she would check to make sure that we got all the bad ones.
I like the smell of a pot of pea soup cooking even now. Your can substitute beef if you don’t eat pork, and it will taste just as good.
3 pieces smoked bacon
3 pieces smoked neck bone
3 pieces fresh pig tail
1 piece ham hock or smoked ham
1 package (16 ounces) black-eyed peas
In a medium pot, fry the bacon. Remove the bacon and drain the grease and set aside. Fill the same pot two-thirds full of warm to hot water. Add all the other meat and let boil for about an hour, or until foam from the meat appears. Drain and rinse the meat under running water. Return the meat to the pot. Fill the pot about two-thirds full of water again and let come to a boil.
Meanwhile, put the black-eyed peas in a bowl. Unless you had someone else do this earlier (or you just aren’t bothered by bad peas), look through them, picking out the bad ones—those that are cracked, black, halved, or odd in some way. Add water to the peas; some will float to the top of the bowl. Drain off the floating peas; add more water and drain again. Add the black-eyed peas and bacon to the meat in the pot and let cook until the peas are tender. Stir occasionally to keep the peas from sticking.
As the black-eyed peas cook and the liquid gets low or thick, add more hot water and stir. When the peas are done, you should have a nice, rich, medium-thick soup.
During the winter, the daylight hours were shorter, but our routine with school and household chores remained about the same. By spring, everyone was ready for the cold weather to go away. My sisters and I had to keep warm clothing on while waiting patiently for warm weather to arrive.
While Momma loved spending the days of the cooler months in the house cooking, cleaning, or mending, she liked nothing more than opening up the doors and windows and letting the fresh air in when it began to warm up. Hugging the heater during the winter months was cozy, but it didn’t take the place of being able to roam around outside. Of course, when the weather started to warm up, the biting bugs came along. If we wanted to sit outside during the late afternoons, Momma would light a smoke pot to keep the biting bugs and gnats away.
In the early spring, Pop and Momma couldn’t get their minds off grabbing their garden tools and getting to work in the field. Both of them relied on their instinct and their knowledge and the Old Farmer’s Almanac when it was time to start turning over the soil in the field at planting time. They often followed the phases of the moon to plant certain seeds nature’s way. A lot of times the tide played an important role also. Almost every household had an Almanac to help make certain decisions, right down to the best time to cut their hogs and cows and to plant their tadas.
4 large white potatoes
dash of salt
1–2 tablespoons butter or margarine
1–2 tablespoons garlic juice or minced garlic
3–4 tablespoons Carnation evaporated milk
bacon bits (optional)
Peel the potatoes and cut them into ½- to 1-inch-thick slices. Place them in a large pot half full of water and add the salt. Bring to a boil and let the potatoes cook until they are soft enough to be easily pierced with a fork. Drain the potatoes and place them in a large mixing bowl. Use a fork to mash the potatoes down, then add the butter and garlic. Using an electric mixer, slowly add the milk until well blended, then beat on medium or high speed for 2 minutes or more. Serve this up as it is, or add some bacon bits for more flavor.
1½ cups oil
4–6 large white potatoes, cut in ¼-inch wedges
2 tablespoons garlic powder or garlic juice
salt and black pepper to taste
Heat the oil in a large skillet while preparing the potatoes. Wash and drain the potatoes and damp dry them with a paper towel or cotton cloth. Toss the potatoes with the garlic powder or juice to season. Place them in the refrigerator for 5 to 10 minutes before adding them to the hot oil. Be careful while adding the potatoes to the oil. Let the potatoes cook until brown on all sides, turning them as needed. Remove them from the pan and place on paper towels to drain excess oil. Season with salt and pepper.
2 pounds lean ground round
1 tablespoon salt
1 tablespoon black pepper
1 large onion, diced small
1 large green bell pepper, diced small
½ cup ketchup
⅔–1 cup bread crumbs
2 teaspoons crushed garlic or garlic powder
4–5 large eggs, beaten
2 tablespoons brown sugar
Keep the ground round chilled until ready to use, especially in warm weather. Place it in a bowl and add the salt, black pepper, onion, and bell pepper; then add the ketchup, bread crumbs, and garlic. In a separate bowl, mix the eggs and sugar together. Add them to the ground beef mixture and use your hands to combine everything well. Roll portions of the mixture around in your hand to shape into balls no larger than golf balls. Place as many as you can on a cookie sheet or baking pan without letting them touch. Bake at 375° for 10 to 15 minutes, or until done.
Pull out your best large pot and let’s get cooking!
12–16 ounces of uncooked spaghetti
1 stick butter or margarine
¼ cup vegetable oil
½ pound lump crabmeat
½ pound small clams
½ pound oysters
1 medium-sized onion, diced small
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 medium-sized green bell pepper, diced
1 medium-sized red bell pepper, diced
1–2 14½-ounce cans stewed tomatoes
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1 14½-ounce can chicken broth or water
1 tablespoon garlic, minced
1 teaspoon dried oregano (optional)
2 teaspoons dried basil (optional)
½ cup grated sharp cheddar cheese, more or less to taste
1 pound shrimp, peeled and deveined
While you are preparing the other ingredients, bring a large pot of water one-half to two-thirds full to a boil for cooking the spaghetti. Place the butter and oil in another large pot on medium heat. When the oil is hot, add the crabmeat, clams, oysters, onion, garlic, and bell peppers. Stir together for a good minute or two, then add the stewed tomatoes, tomato paste, chicken broth, garlic, oregano, basil, and grated cheese. Stir the mixture together and let it cook until the sauce begins to thicken. Add the shrimp and let cook for about 15 to 20 minutes more. At this time, place the spaghetti in the pot of boiling water and cook until it is as soft as you like it.
Check the sauce for the right thickness while the spaghetti is cooking. Remove the spaghetti from the hot water and drain. There are two ways to fix this dish: you can remove the spaghetti from the pot a little before it’s done, combine it with the sauce, and let the sauce cook until the spaghetti is done, or you can cook the spaghetti well and serve the sauce over it.
Makes 1–1½ dozen.
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
5 teaspoons Crisco
¼ cup whole milk
2 eggs, beaten
heaping ⅔ cup of grated sharp cheese
¼ cup Parmesan cheese
½ stick margarine
In a large bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, and salt. Add the Crisco, milk, eggs, sharp cheese, Parmesan cheese, and margarine. Combine the ingredients to form a dough and knead until soft and well mixed. Using a rolling pin, spread the dough to about ¼ or ½ inch thick. Cut the dough with a biscuit cutter (re-form the scraps and cut again until all the dough is used). Let bake in a preheated oven at 350° until the biscuits turn golden brown, about 20 to 30 minutes. Remove from the oven, let cool, and enjoy.
Whether you have freshly baked, just-out-of-the-oven ham or leftover ham, this is a great meat-and-potato salad that will feed your beenyah or comeyah soul.
6–8 medium potatoes (red or white), with or without skins, diced
1–1½ pounds baked ham, diced
1 small onion, diced
½ medium-sized green bell pepper, diced
½ medium-sized red bell pepper, diced
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 tablespoon pimentos (optional)
2 tablespoons sweet pickle relish or cubes
5–6 hard-boiled eggs, chopped
⅔ cup mayonnaise
In a large pot of water, cook the potatoes until they are tender enough to be pierced easily with a fork. Drain and let cool if you like. Add the ham, onion, bell peppers, black pepper, pimentos, sweet cubes, and eggs. Toss together, then add the mayonnaise and lightly combine. Now serve it up.
My grandmomma once had a rooster that was as protective as a watch-dog and as mean as a rattlesnake. Even though it didn’t bark or crawl on its belly, it cackled and picked at you; its long spurs would hurt you. If you went to Grandmomma’s house and were not an everyday visitor, the rooster would not allow you to enter the gate to the house. The rooster would prance back and forth by the gate making noise when it saw you coming. This rooster proudly defended his territory, as if he was saying, “You can’t come in this yard.”
When Grandmomma heard the rooster making a fuss, she knew someone was at the gate. She would have to come out of the house, meet her visitors at the gate, and walk them into the house shooing the bird away. This rooster didn’t like kids either, but we knew to get a big stick and scare it away from our legs before it tried pecking on us.
Momma made sure we always had lots of fresh chicken eggs by having a yardful of chickens. Half of our chickens were for laying and hatching eggs for new chickens. Our “chickens” were a mixture of roosters, ducks, geese, turkeys, and guineas. Momma even had some frizzy chickens that were ugly to us kids, but Momma loved them all.
8 hard-boiled eggs
½ teaspoon garlic powder
½ teaspoon black pepper
pinch salt
1–1½ tablespoons sweet pickle relish or cubes
⅓ cup mayonnaise
½ teaspoon paprika
Run cool water over the eggs after they have boiled so they will be cool enough to handle. Peel and dice the eggs and place them in a medium-sized mixing bowl. Add the garlic powder, black pepper, salt, and relish; mix well. Add the mayonnaise and paprika. Spread on your favorite bread and bite in.
1 dozen eggs
⅔ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon black pepper
2 tablespoons mayonnaise
2–3 dashes hot sauce (optional)
½ teaspoon garlic juice (optional)
1½ tablespoons sweet pickle relish or cubes
paprika for garnish
Place the eggs in a large pot and add enough cold water to cover them by about an inch. Bring to a boil and cook the eggs for 15 to 20 minutes. When the eggs are cooked, remove them from the stove and drain. Run cool water over the eggs while you peel them. Carefully cut the eggs in half, lengthwise. Remove the yolk from each half and place in a bowl. Place egg white halves on a plate or platter. Use a fork to mash the yolks; add the remaining ingredients to the yolks. Use a spoon to combine well, then place the yolk mixture in a pastry bag and squeeze it out to fill each egg white half. Sprinkle paprika lightly over the eggs to give them a nice finish. Enjoy.