It seems that I did post the recipe for chicken muddle on this blog in September and promptly forgot. It is well worth making and since you end up with such a large quantity you can tuck it away in the freezer and enjoy the results of your work for a good while. I made it in my huge Oster Roaster this time and it was much less work. I just cranked it up as high as it would go and cooked it without the top so the liquid would evaporate. Got to be able to eat it with a fork, as Greensville Countians all know.
As we were filling the kitchen sinks with ice to cool the muddle, I remembered that when Mother and Daddy made the big iron pot of muddle, they used to buy ice to fill the thoroughly scrubbed bath tub and stick the little containers of muddle down in it so they would cool quickly and safely before putting into the big chest freezer.
That's pretty much all I know about chicken muddle, and I will try to keep better track of what I already posted, from now on.
Showing posts with label Southside Virginia recipes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Southside Virginia recipes. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Friday, November 4, 2011
Butter - Easy Recipe for Children of All Ages
The computer is fixed, the wedding festivities for niece Sarah are over and both sets of friends who stayed with us here at Massanutten have left , so I thought It was time to get back to business. We have had almost two wonderful weeks with friends and family in Williamsburg, Suffolk, Newport News and here in the mountains of Virginia.
On to butter… As I have said before, we lived in the country on a family farm. We lived in the home place, and Ruby, a teacher, and sometimes Eunie, lived there too. Garland, Daddy’s younger brother, lived across and down the road on one side. He had seven children, Garland, Jr. who went away to school because there was no education in Emporia at that time for a child who was deaf, Jimmy, Marsha, Randy, Mike, Brenda and Eric. Big Bubba and Stella lived across and down the road in the other direction. Big Bubba was the oldest. We sort of went from one house to the other, depending on what was going on. Big Bubba worked shift work at Johns Manville, as my daddy did, and Jimmy, Marsha and I used to take turns staying with Stella on midnight to 7 shift because she did not like to stay alone.
We had a cow until after Bubba went off to college. He was chief milker, and I felt it was my responsibility to keep him company while he did it. Keeping him company probably consisted of asking one question after another, and may have occasionally plucked his last good nerve, as sister in law Daryl Lyn says, because he sometimes aimed at me instead of the bucket. He had really good control. I remember the farm cats and kittens used to show up at milking time and wait with open mouths for him to squirt them.
We churned our own butter in crockery churns with wooden dashers. You had to let the cream come to the top of the milk, spoon it off and put it into the churn. Then you pulled the dasher up and pushed it down until the butter formed, leaving butter milk in the bottom of the churn. Then you had to scoop the very soft butter out of the churn and into a crockery bowl so the remaining butter milk could be worked out with a wooden paddle. Once that was done, the butter could be shaped into a log or a ball or pushed firmly into a butter mold. Ours was wooden and consisted of a form with a plunger that had decorations on the surface. When the plunger was depressed to push out the butter, it left a pretty decoration. I was given a butter pat sized mold and loved to make individual servings of butter, but most of the time, we just used the big one.
The butter milk was saved for making biscuits or for drinking by those who were so inclined. Crumbling up cold biscuits in the milk and eating them with a spoon was considered a special treat by some, but not by me.
When we churned butter at Big Bubba and Stella’s, we sat on the front porch and sang “Come butter, come” as we worked. I think those were the only words to the so called song.
I also remember that when we needed rain so badly that the wells were in danger of running dry, Stella used to gather the cousins on the front porch, and we would sing “There Shall Be Showers of Blessing.” over and over and over again. But I digress…
When several of the cousins were around, we were sometimes given a Mason jar of cream which we shook until it turned to butter. I remember that we had races to see who could shake the fastest and get butter first.
Making butter was a favorite speech activity at Medina County Board of MRDD. We prepared picture communication boards so that non verbal students could request a turn or a taste of the butter and attached a food processor to a device so that children with limited hand mobility could use a switch to activate the processor.
Recipe
1 cup whipping cream
Pinch salt (optional)
Pour cold cream in bowl of food processor. Process until it is way past the whipped cream stage. A small amount of liquid will separate from the creamy butter. Don’t expect it to be yellow like the butter you get at the store. It will be quite soft, but will firm up in the refrigerator.
The children loved it on saltines or bread. Because of my own opinions of the matter, I always put the butter on the bottom or unsalted side of the cracker so the salt touched the tongue. Don’t laugh. I know you have some food rules.
On to butter… As I have said before, we lived in the country on a family farm. We lived in the home place, and Ruby, a teacher, and sometimes Eunie, lived there too. Garland, Daddy’s younger brother, lived across and down the road on one side. He had seven children, Garland, Jr. who went away to school because there was no education in Emporia at that time for a child who was deaf, Jimmy, Marsha, Randy, Mike, Brenda and Eric. Big Bubba and Stella lived across and down the road in the other direction. Big Bubba was the oldest. We sort of went from one house to the other, depending on what was going on. Big Bubba worked shift work at Johns Manville, as my daddy did, and Jimmy, Marsha and I used to take turns staying with Stella on midnight to 7 shift because she did not like to stay alone.
We had a cow until after Bubba went off to college. He was chief milker, and I felt it was my responsibility to keep him company while he did it. Keeping him company probably consisted of asking one question after another, and may have occasionally plucked his last good nerve, as sister in law Daryl Lyn says, because he sometimes aimed at me instead of the bucket. He had really good control. I remember the farm cats and kittens used to show up at milking time and wait with open mouths for him to squirt them.
We churned our own butter in crockery churns with wooden dashers. You had to let the cream come to the top of the milk, spoon it off and put it into the churn. Then you pulled the dasher up and pushed it down until the butter formed, leaving butter milk in the bottom of the churn. Then you had to scoop the very soft butter out of the churn and into a crockery bowl so the remaining butter milk could be worked out with a wooden paddle. Once that was done, the butter could be shaped into a log or a ball or pushed firmly into a butter mold. Ours was wooden and consisted of a form with a plunger that had decorations on the surface. When the plunger was depressed to push out the butter, it left a pretty decoration. I was given a butter pat sized mold and loved to make individual servings of butter, but most of the time, we just used the big one.
The butter milk was saved for making biscuits or for drinking by those who were so inclined. Crumbling up cold biscuits in the milk and eating them with a spoon was considered a special treat by some, but not by me.
When we churned butter at Big Bubba and Stella’s, we sat on the front porch and sang “Come butter, come” as we worked. I think those were the only words to the so called song.
I also remember that when we needed rain so badly that the wells were in danger of running dry, Stella used to gather the cousins on the front porch, and we would sing “There Shall Be Showers of Blessing.” over and over and over again. But I digress…
When several of the cousins were around, we were sometimes given a Mason jar of cream which we shook until it turned to butter. I remember that we had races to see who could shake the fastest and get butter first.
Making butter was a favorite speech activity at Medina County Board of MRDD. We prepared picture communication boards so that non verbal students could request a turn or a taste of the butter and attached a food processor to a device so that children with limited hand mobility could use a switch to activate the processor.
Recipe
1 cup whipping cream
Pinch salt (optional)
Pour cold cream in bowl of food processor. Process until it is way past the whipped cream stage. A small amount of liquid will separate from the creamy butter. Don’t expect it to be yellow like the butter you get at the store. It will be quite soft, but will firm up in the refrigerator.
The children loved it on saltines or bread. Because of my own opinions of the matter, I always put the butter on the bottom or unsalted side of the cracker so the salt touched the tongue. Don’t laugh. I know you have some food rules.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Fried/Baked Dried Apple Pies/Turnovers
A favorite dessert in Virginia and in other southern states is the fried pie. Both Mother and Mrs. Williams made them, but they did it a little differently.
When I was little, Mother dried her own apples. I remember she peeled them and spread them on a white sheet to dry in the hot sun. I think she put them on the roof of the pump house so the animals could not get to them and brought them onto the screen porch at night. They turned quite dark and had the stronger flavor of the dried apples sold in bulk at health food markets. The packaged ones I buy in regular grocery stores are treated to keep them light in color, and I think they taste very much like fresh apples when cooked.
Mother also made her own pastry for her turnovers, as she called them. I don’t have that recipe, but I think I remember that she said she didn’t make them quite as short so they would hold up better to frying. I don’t know if the term “quite as short” is commonly used, but she meant it to say she didn’t use as much shortening. Del says Mrs. Williams made her pastry from scratch in the early years, but by the time I came into the family, she used canned biscuits. Either works, but I’m partial to pastry. My homemade pie dough in the rectangular box in the refrigerator case works just fine. It’s a little more trouble to use pastry, of course, because you have to reroll the scraps of dough after the first cutting.
Del says that his mother occasionally made dried peach fried pies, but I only remember eating apple ones at home or at the Williams’ house. A bakery here in Carrollton makes fried pies that have regular juicy pie filling of various kinds, but they just aren’t as good.
Recipe:
1 roll of 10 canned biscuits
1 package dried apples
2 cups water
Put apples and water into small pot and simmer, covered, until the water evaporates and the apples are tender. Add a little extra water if needed before apples are tender, but be sure you let it evaporate. Mash some of the apples with potato masher, but leave them lumpy. TASTE FOR SWEETNESS. I usually don’t add any, but you might want to. Let cool.
Roll out individual biscuits until thin. Place about 1/8 c. apple mixture on each biscuit, form into a half circle and press edges together so the filling will not leak out. Then crimp edges with a fork.
Heat ½ inch oil in iron or other frying pan and fry the pies until golden. One package of apples makes just enough for 10 turnovers. Eat while still warm.
OR
Cut circles from your own pie dough or refrigerated crusts. You can determine the size of the turnover by the size of the cutter you choose, but adjust the amount of filling accordingly. If you over fill, they will ooze while frying. Mini pies are pretty, I think. Fry until golden. Eat while still warm.
OR
Use either biscuits or pie dough, but bake them instead of frying. Spread ½ tsp. oil on a cast iron griddle or pan and place it in the oven at 400 degrees until hot. Place turnovers onto the hot pan and brush the top with a little oil. Bake until golden brown. These don’t take me back to my childhood, but they are less trouble and have less fat. Del thinks that since I don’t use sugar and they don’t have the taste of fat, they might benefit from a sprinkle of powdered sugar when taken from the oven, but I think they are just fine as they are
When I was little, Mother dried her own apples. I remember she peeled them and spread them on a white sheet to dry in the hot sun. I think she put them on the roof of the pump house so the animals could not get to them and brought them onto the screen porch at night. They turned quite dark and had the stronger flavor of the dried apples sold in bulk at health food markets. The packaged ones I buy in regular grocery stores are treated to keep them light in color, and I think they taste very much like fresh apples when cooked.
Mother also made her own pastry for her turnovers, as she called them. I don’t have that recipe, but I think I remember that she said she didn’t make them quite as short so they would hold up better to frying. I don’t know if the term “quite as short” is commonly used, but she meant it to say she didn’t use as much shortening. Del says Mrs. Williams made her pastry from scratch in the early years, but by the time I came into the family, she used canned biscuits. Either works, but I’m partial to pastry. My homemade pie dough in the rectangular box in the refrigerator case works just fine. It’s a little more trouble to use pastry, of course, because you have to reroll the scraps of dough after the first cutting.
Del says that his mother occasionally made dried peach fried pies, but I only remember eating apple ones at home or at the Williams’ house. A bakery here in Carrollton makes fried pies that have regular juicy pie filling of various kinds, but they just aren’t as good.
Recipe:
1 roll of 10 canned biscuits
1 package dried apples
2 cups water
Put apples and water into small pot and simmer, covered, until the water evaporates and the apples are tender. Add a little extra water if needed before apples are tender, but be sure you let it evaporate. Mash some of the apples with potato masher, but leave them lumpy. TASTE FOR SWEETNESS. I usually don’t add any, but you might want to. Let cool.
Roll out individual biscuits until thin. Place about 1/8 c. apple mixture on each biscuit, form into a half circle and press edges together so the filling will not leak out. Then crimp edges with a fork.
Heat ½ inch oil in iron or other frying pan and fry the pies until golden. One package of apples makes just enough for 10 turnovers. Eat while still warm.
OR
Cut circles from your own pie dough or refrigerated crusts. You can determine the size of the turnover by the size of the cutter you choose, but adjust the amount of filling accordingly. If you over fill, they will ooze while frying. Mini pies are pretty, I think. Fry until golden. Eat while still warm.
OR
Use either biscuits or pie dough, but bake them instead of frying. Spread ½ tsp. oil on a cast iron griddle or pan and place it in the oven at 400 degrees until hot. Place turnovers onto the hot pan and brush the top with a little oil. Bake until golden brown. These don’t take me back to my childhood, but they are less trouble and have less fat. Del thinks that since I don’t use sugar and they don’t have the taste of fat, they might benefit from a sprinkle of powdered sugar when taken from the oven, but I think they are just fine as they are
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Hello, Out There!
I think the comments section is working at least sometimes. I can only comment as anonymous, but at least I can do that. I'll keep working on it. I would love to know how you found the blog, especially if you aren't one of the relatives and friends whose arms I twisted until you agreed to read it. Anyhow, welcome to everyone who stops by. I hope, if nothing else, it encourages you to seek out your family stories before you all of a sudden wake up to realize you are the "older" generation and it's too late to ask questions you always intended to ask but just didn't. Be sure to ask Relative Whoever for that special recipe, too. Some of our family recipes have already been lost to us, especially those that weren't really ever written down. You know, a pinch of this, a dab of that.
Start your own family blog, why don't you? Your children will thank you later.
Start your own family blog, why don't you? Your children will thank you later.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Chicken Barbecue Sauce
When we lived in Lexington, Virginia back in the ‘70s, the fire departments in the little Rockbridge County towns, made money by having Fire Festivals during the summer. There were parades with fire trucks, ambulances, and other emergency vehicles,drums, an old guy drum major who had more fun than anyone and majorettes from toddler age on up. I recall being worried about who was looking after business because at least one truck showed up from each little town. There were also a few rides and wonderful barbecued chicken dinners, except for one community which served pot roast. I thought that seemed strange for a hot summer evening, but it was tasty. We went almost every weekend with friends and their children. To be honest, I think the parents had as much fun as the little ones.
Each dinner consisted of half or quarter of a chicken with sides and a drink, and there were wonderful desserts. I had never seen such huge grills for the chargrilled chicken. It took several men to tend them and you could smell the chicken before you got out of your car. We were told that many of the communities used some version of barbecue sauce said to have originated at VPI to baste the chicken because it doesn't have tomatoes in it and is less apt to burn before the chicken is done. A neighbor told me how to make her version of the sauce.
VPI,for non Virginians and young Virginians, stands for Virginia Polytechnic Institute, located in Blacksburg and now commonly called Va Tech. Several Robinsons went there over the years.
Recipe:
½ cup oil
1 c. cider vinegar
1/2c. Water
2T salt
½ t. black pepper (I use 1/2 black and 1/2 red)
1t. poultry seasoning (I use 1/2 t.)
Mix together and refrigerate for several hours so flavors will meld. Put into food safe spray bottle and spray chicken frequently while cooking. Leftover sauce will keep in fridge for several days.
Note: I usually cut the recipe in half. I have also made it without poultry seasoning when I didn't have any.
Each dinner consisted of half or quarter of a chicken with sides and a drink, and there were wonderful desserts. I had never seen such huge grills for the chargrilled chicken. It took several men to tend them and you could smell the chicken before you got out of your car. We were told that many of the communities used some version of barbecue sauce said to have originated at VPI to baste the chicken because it doesn't have tomatoes in it and is less apt to burn before the chicken is done. A neighbor told me how to make her version of the sauce.
VPI,for non Virginians and young Virginians, stands for Virginia Polytechnic Institute, located in Blacksburg and now commonly called Va Tech. Several Robinsons went there over the years.
Recipe:
½ cup oil
1 c. cider vinegar
1/2c. Water
2T salt
½ t. black pepper (I use 1/2 black and 1/2 red)
1t. poultry seasoning (I use 1/2 t.)
Mix together and refrigerate for several hours so flavors will meld. Put into food safe spray bottle and spray chicken frequently while cooking. Leftover sauce will keep in fridge for several days.
Note: I usually cut the recipe in half. I have also made it without poultry seasoning when I didn't have any.
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