Down Home Cookin'

Coming home from school meant that we had to change our clothes and check the chore chart. There were always linens to do, floors to clean, bathrooms to scrub, vaccuming, and all sorts of domestic chores for all of us to engage in. I always loved seeing that I had kitchen duty when I got home. This meant that I got to work in the kitchen with Mrs. Thompson and I looked so forward to being with her and learning valuable skills. These valuable skills usually had something to do with food, so of course I looked forward to that.
Mrs. Thompson cooked everything from scratch. I don't think I ever saw her open a box of anything ready-made. She was an excellent cook. The thing is, I had not been raised on down home country cooking, and had to adjust my tastes accordingly. When we served supper, there was always some kind of meat, potatoes, or rice, vegetables, home made bread of some kind, dessert and always, iced tea. All of it cooked southern style. I don't recall having pasta very often if ever.The meats were chicken, fried, stewed, braised, baked, smothered or with dumplings. Pork chops were baked in the oven, pan fried, stuffed, smothered with gravy or stewed. Steak was not t-bone or like that, but cut from a huge piece of boneless beef and fried, stewed, roasted or grilled. We had hamburger in several different ways, but all of this meat was a main course. I had to learn to cook it all, and for some reason, I took to cooking like a duck to water. Depending on what kind of meat was served, we always had potatoes or rice, and usually some kind of gravy to go on top. The rice was cooked in a huge pot, but Mrs. Thompson never measured anything and just put the rice in and ran water over it until it was "just enough". I always wondered how she knew how much "just enough" was, but she would laugh and tell me that one day, I would know. (I do!) We had to peel so many potatoes, and the eyes had better be cut out too! How my hands ached from peeling those potatoes, and I would make up games to entertain myself while the long shreds of potato peelings flew into the bucket. One game was, could I peel a whole potato without breaking off the peeling? Usually not. Sometimes I would guess how many eyes each potato had, and count them as I cut them out. Once, I sat across the kitchen from the large pot that the potatoes went in and tossed them to see if I could make it. Usually not! Once those potatoes were peeled and cut into cubes, they were soaked in salted water until it was time to cook them. Then, they were rinsed, covered with fresh water, boiled until soft and mashed. The potato masher was very large, and kind of hard to handle. Knowing it would do no good to complain, I would grasp the wooden handle, plunge down over and over until they were mashed and fluffy. I then added butter, (real butter, not margarine) milk, salt and pepper and sneaked a bite. Mmmm! Home made breads were not usually yeast breads, but sometimes we were treated with it. Usually, it was corn bread or biscuits. I learned to make those too. Biscuits were made with lard, flour, salt, baking soda and buttermilk. I would measure out the flour, add the salt, soda and lard, and take two knives and cut the lard into tiny pieces into the flour. When the lard was cut into the flour just right, buttermilk was added and the whole thing mixed by hand. The lard made little lumps that gave the biscuits a flaky texture. I then rolled out the dough, cut circles with a mason jar and placed biscuits by the dozens on a buttered cookie sheet to bake to a golden brown. Corn bread was so much easier. Just mix the ingriedients, pour into a pan and bake. I liked baking biscuits more than cornbread, it took more of a challenge. Vegetables were a virtual bounty each day. Since we were supported by an organization, many of the local farmers would donate fresh produce to the home. There was fresh corn, on the ear or off, cooked in butter and salted- Heaven. Green beans, freshly snapped and cooked with bacon was a table staple, but there was lots of fresh squash, peas, beans, (butter beans, pinto, white, speckled and others) tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, sweet potatoes, okra, spinach, cabbage and so many other kinds. Most of these were cooked with bacon, or had bacon fat added for flavor. This method of vegetable preparation is a southern tradition, and it really spoiled me. At first I thought that I would not like those vegetables, but fear of the matron and curiosity drove me to try them. Even to this day, I love fresh cooked vegetables.
Desserts were a southern fantasy. Each day, Mrs. Thompson would surprise us with yet another treat that was amazing. Some days it was fruit cobbler, other days homemade cakes. Pies, cookies, brownies and homemade ice cream were the reward for a meal finished. After all, no dessert if you did not clear your plate. Mrs. Thompson taught me to make pecan pie, buttermilk cake, blackberry cobbler and so many other desserts. She taught me to measure, stir, sift, cut, roll out, dust with sugar and on and on. The one thing she was adamant about was a clean kitchen, and I was shown how to clean as I went. That is a valuable lesson that has served me well all these years.
All of this wonderful cooking certainly made living at the home bearable. But, after a while, being at the home was more than bearable, it was good. I enjoyed my time with Mrs. Thompson in the kitchen, sewing in the sewing room, being with Mindy and feeling that I truly had a place in life. One incident though, happened after church on a Sunday. We had come home from Church and were all seated at the long dining room table. The plates, silver wear, glasses and napkins seemed to welcome me as I sat down with a growling tummy. The table was laden with a large roast beef, potatoes, vegetables and biscuits. The iced tea looked cool and sweet and inviting. There was a plate of biscuits at each end of the table, and the plate at my end was right in front of my nose. Gosh, they were steaming and I could see the little flakes made from the lard. Butter was melting down from the top to make a little butter river flowing over each biscuit. The matron was praying- yes and in fine form too! All I could hear was a heavenly "yap yap yap" and the gurgle of my very hungry stomach. Those biscuits were calling my name. Oh look! Is that a flaky crumb that has fallen on the table, right in front of me? Sneaking a peek from under my lowered eyelids, I glanced at the matron at the far end of the table. I calculated the distance from my folded hands to the tantalizing crumb and wondered if I could snatch it and not get caught. To this day, I will never understand why I did it. But, I did do it. While the matron droned on and on in heavenly supplication, I reached out with only one index finger to get that crumb. But, Mindy, seeing what I was going to do tried to grab my hand back and only succeeded in bumping it just enough to jostle the biscuit on the side of the plate. To my horror, that biscuit fell off the pile and onto the table. Before I saw it, I heard the slamming of a meaty palm on the table from the far end. The matron roared, "it looks like someone is being a pig today! I haven't even said amen, and you are sneaking a biscuit! Well Missy, let's see how you like doing without that biscuit! And the rest of your dinner too! Get up and go to your room, no dinner for you!" Oh gosh, I thought I was going to throw up! My first real encounter with a raging matron- I was for sure in trouble with her! I jumped up, knocked my chair over and ran from the dining room. My worst fears had come true. The matron had an excuse to punish me. I was overwhelmed with the memory of the night she had paddled those other girls. I ran to my room and jumped on my bed. When would she come to get me? I was terrified. I cried and cried and wrang my hands. After a while, Mindy came into the room and sat down next to me. I blubbered about how I was so afraid of the matron, and Mindy told me not to worry, the matron had gone to lay down for the afternoon. It was punishment enough that I had been sent from the table, Mrs. Thompson had told her so. Then, dear sweet Mindy reached into her blouse and pulled out a biscuit that she had sneaked from the table. I hugged her and told her I loved her for that. The next thing I knew, Patty, Frankie and a few of the other girls had come into my room with some food for me to! After making sure that the matron was sound asleep, we had a little picnic on the floor of my room, (I ate, they talked) and I realized with profound gratitude that I had a real home with real friends. It was a very happy moment for me- something I never forgot. Till tomorrow, love, nanasee