The Perfect Snow

In rural Southwest Alabama, we rarely get snow. When we do, the whole world stops dead in its tracks. To us, snow can only mean one thing – we must stay put wherever we are, or get somewhere as soon as we can and stay there. None of us know how to drive in snow, and even less about icy conditions. That is why this Saturday was the perfect snow. It was a long weekend. Some of us had plans to go somewhere – which were promptly cancelled. It was Saturday, so the majority of us were not going to work anyway. It couldn’t have happened at a nicer time. We were prepared for a leisure pace already, just by virtue of it being Saturday. We were not yet out of our cozy pajamas when the snow started. In fact, I didn’t get out of my cozy pajamas until the next day.
Like most of us, I had plans for the holiday weekend. I was going to a very special birthday party for a friend turning 50. She had gone to a lot of trouble to plan an interesting party. We were going to the local ceramics shop and make her a commemorative set of dishes. She had her color scheme all outlined. We were each going to make her a plate for a present. She was going to design the platter and have us all sign it.
I was also going to travel to Georgia to visit my sister. Since I am in the tourism business, we were going to get out and scout some of the rural areas around Milledgeville where she lives. I told her to plan something fun. Her reply was “All we have to do to have fun is walk out the door.” That is the truth. I look forward to visiting with her. So much for all those plans….
Instead, I just kept on my satin, flannel lined “I Love Lucy” striped pajamas and my fuzzy mohair socks for the duration. I say duration because the snow only lasted one day. That is what made it perfect. I happened on a holiday weekend and was of short duration. Needless to say, I didn’t go out to play in the snow in my Lucy pajamas. I watched movies I had recorded. I read a good book. I made a bubbling pot of chicken and rice that I turned into a casserole with almonds. I sat by the fireside. I had a memorable nap, my first in months. In short, it was the perfect day. I kept a kettle of tea warm on the stove. The nearest I came to the outdoors was to take a picture of my snow swept garden out of the window. It was a gray, gloomy day that just begged for solitude. I think my soul almost caught up with my body. I listened to classical music and the programming of National Public Radio. When Garrison Keillor talked about the cold, I was right there with him. I was just glad that I didn’t have to get out and shovel snow.
The next day turned off beautiful and bright. I hoisted out my fur coat because it was still cold. We don’t have a lot of use for fur coats around here because generally, a sweater and jacket are enough. They are so much trouble. A fur weighs a lot. I do like them. I am not one of those people who has an attitude about wearing animals. My fur coats have generally had previous owners. I am very fond of vintage furs. The way I look at wearing fur is that if I wasn’t wearing it, those little critters would have given their lives in vain. Apparently, a lot of people in my church share similar feelings, because we looked like a bunch of Eskimos at the Methodist church. It’s hardly worth it. We run to the car in our furs, then dash into the church. When we get in, we discard the furs. When we get into the sanctuary, we either have to sit on them, or bother the person in the pew in front of us, or wear the heavy thing. Some vanities just may not be worth it. None of us would want furs anyway unless we had seen movie stars draped in them on the silver screen.
Speaking of the silver screen, a cold weekend is the perfect time for movies. It’s also the perfect time for reading, visiting by the fireside and just letting your soul catch up with your body. It’s a gift from the Universe that we are just too busy to give ourselves – the gift of relaxation and coziness.

A Good Pot of Something

Winter calls for a good pot of something bubbling on the stove. Anybody can have one. People who are gone to work all day can use a crock pot and the rest can enjoy the smell while they have a Dutch oven on the stove top.
People in rural southwest Alabama will generally have their pots full of vegetable soup which will always include lots of tomatoes, butterbeans, okra, and corn as the chief ingredients as well anything else. If you say vegetable soup to anybody around here, you better have put those things in the soup if you call it vegetable. A lot of folks put up what they call “soup mix” in jars or frozen. The quantities of the four aforementioned vegetables will vary according to how good the four individual crops were during the previous growing season. I am going to say something sacrilegious now, but I feel I must do it in the interest of sharing our culture. You can use canned tomatoes and butterbeans. You can use frozen okra and corn. When I think how the canners I know have slaved over their soup mixes, I feel bad for them. Putting up vegetables is a slave maker. Any person who has ever put up fresh vegetables knows what I am talking about. When they are ready, it’s now or never. They must be picked at their peak of ripeness, and canned or frozen instantaneously. I have seen many vacations postponed or not taken because “the corn will be coming in soon”. Corn is the worst taskmaster of all because its very sweetness depends on a speedy processing. Now there is a frozen corn put up in packages like bulk sausage that taste just like Momma’s that she grated off the cob. The people who take great pride in their own corn canning even have to admit that they have been equaled. I suspect they are secretly glad of the alternative. Corn canning is the worst slave master of all. You can’t even wait a day on it. Okra, butterbeans, and tomatoes can be held out a day, if you spread them out on newspapers so they don’t go through a heat. Butterbeans and okra can actually be refrigerated. Tomatoes can be refrigerated as a last resort, but they won’t be as good. Corn can’t have any of this forgiveness. In fact, I decided long ago that I would buy my corn in the roll because I don’t have any masochistic tendencies and I think putting up corn is a subtle form of torture. I thank God for large scale farmers and wish them commercial success of the greatest magnitude.
I am going to have to admit something else to you. This traditional vegetable soup is not my favorite pot of something. One pot meals are some of my favorite foods, but I like variety. I actually like the other local traditional bubbling pot better. It is dry beans cooked with some form of pork. It can be a ham bone or bacon or even a good smoked sausage such as our local Conecuh or Monroeville brands. They can be plain or have a whole onion or some garlic thrown in. They can be seasoned with plain salt or my favorite Creole seasoning. They can be soaked ahead of time for a nearer fresh texture or cooked long and hard for a mushy texture. Any of these ways they are delicious. They can be a meal in themselves or a side dish. They best way to eat them is in a bowl like soup with crumbled cornbread and chopped green onions.
Another soup pot specialty I have just come to terms with in my old age is the hunter’s delight – venison or deer meat as the locals call it. I had some bad experiences with deer meat in my childhood. Somebody would have a deer drive and give Mama some meat. She would tell us it was beef and cook it bone dry in the oven. The poor deer was already filled with hormones from running for its life on the deer drive. Then to be cooked without special seasonings and misrepresented as beef was a bad deal for all concerned. I always thought deer meat tasted funny and usually it does, unless properly butchered after not being run through the woods with brooms, guns and whooping hunters in hot pursuit.
I am finally convinced that venison can be good food, if prepared properly. I have a gentleman caller who knows how to treat it right. He waits for it in a tree, shoots it quietly without fanfare, and then bleeds it out right away. He then hangs it up and begins the butchering process. He removes all fat and tendons, leaving only chunks of meat. He then grinds it twice himself, or cuts the tenderloin into slices. When he makes a pot of venison chili, I’ll put it up against anybody’s chili – beef or venison. We ate it two nights in a row recently. The first night the chili was served in a bowl with cornbread, onions and yellow cheese. I don’t know why it had to be yellow cheese, but when I put out some pepper jack cheese, he objected and ‘lowed as how only yellow cheese would do. Of course, I had some on hand. My house is cholesterol heaven. The second night, I made a taco salad with the chili. I loved the little extra crunch of the vegetables.
I would be happy to have a pot of something bubbling on the stove every night of the winter. I think pots contain my favorite foods. I’m not through telling you about our pots of things. This is TO BE CONTINUED.

More Simmering Pots

I told you I wasn’t through talking about pots simmering on the stove. How could I end with some many southern food specialty pots yet unexplored? There are several local delicacies that we haven’t talked about as well as some of my own favorite creations. There is nothing more creative than a one pot meal and this is the time of the year when a simmering pot equals a feeling of home and wellbeing.
Every southern cook has some variation of chicken and dumplings as well as a gumbo recipe. The original creation of chicken and dumplings came as a result of having a tough old bird that needed eating. It had to be turned into chicken and dumplings, dressing, or chicken salad in the traditional rural southwest Alabama kitchen. The chicken would create a fat rich broth. Some cooks were content to just stew the chicken with salt and pepper. I could never let well enough alone. I have to put celery, onions, carrots and herbs in my broth along with a tenderer version of the chicken. I might even add some tiny English peas to pot at the end since they don’t take long to cook.
The preparation of dumplings is a personal matter. Originally, it was a matter of making a biscuit dough or pie crust and rolling it out thin. The dumplings would be dried for a few minutes, and then slid into boiling chicken broth. The pot would then be covered and allowed to simmer for a bit on low heat. The best dumplings I ever ate were a tie between those prepared by Dot Ellison of Midway Baptist Church and Miss Lola Brown of St Stephens. Miss Lola’s are thicker. Dot’s were thin and silken. I had Dot give me dumpling making lessons. I learned that her tricks were to use very little shortning in the dough, roll them paper thin, then let them dry for 15 minutes. Women now rarely have the patience of Dot and Lola. They want instant dumplings. Some use canned biscuits. Some use bought dumplings. I have discovered a perfect substitute for Dot’s thin, silken specialty (please forgive me, Dot). I use flour tortilla, sliced into strips directly from the package. They are a duplicate of Dot’s painstaking labor. Try it. I won’t tell if you won’t.
Gumbo is another painstaking process if you make a roux. Around here we call any thick soup with okra a gumbo, but the real one always starts with a roux. Making a roux is a long process of browning flour and fat together without burning it. Fortunately,
I ran upon a real Louisiana Cajun with an eye toward progress. He taught me to make a roux in the microwave. You take a two cup Pyrex measuring cup and put in ½ c each of flour and your favorite fat. Mine is bacon grease with no apologies, but my vegetarian friend uses olive oil with good results. You put it in for 2 ½ minutes on high, then stir. If it is not brown enough to suit you, then put it in for a minute more. You can then dump it into a pot and add the vegetables you wish to sauté in the roux. Gumbo is something you can’t shortcut the simmering process in to meld the flavors of the seasonings. However, if you are making seafood gumbo, the seafood should only be added at the very end (about the last 15-20 minutes) or it will be tough and dry. The shrimp will all but disappear if cooked too long. Again, this will be continued. It’s dinner time.