The Food of a Younger Land (24 page)

The crab in various stages of its life sheds its shell. At which time it is called a “peeler.” It next becomes a “soft shell” as the new shell stiffens, and finally a “hard shell.”

Soft crabs are taken by three forms of apparatus: scrapes, scoop nets and small seines. A few are taken incidentally on trot lines together with hard crabs.

Crabs are sold by the fishermen principally in the “peeler” condition. Most of the hard crabs are obtained with trot lines.

There are many ways in which to prepare crabs and each has their adherents. Among the famous recipes are:

 

Crab Soup
: Boil six crabs, break the shells of three and pick the others. Fry the three broken ones with two slices bacon, chop a small onion up fine and when the crabs and bacon are half fried, add the onion. All must be fried partly brown. Add half a pint of water and let stew slowly for half an hour. Add half a gallon of water and let boil down to three pints. After putting in water peel and cut a quart of tomatoes up fine and add. Add a large tablespoonful of butter wrapped in one of flour and a bunch of parsley cut.

 

Crab Imperial
—1 pound “Flake” or “Lump” crabmeat, 1 cup cream, 1 cup finely chopped red or green pepper, preferably both, for color, 1 cup bread crumbs, 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce, ½ teaspoon dry mustard, 1 teaspoon vinegar, salt and red pepper, 1 tablespoon butter. Melt butter, add cream, salt, pepper, mustard, Worcestershire and vinegar. When thoroughly mixed and heated, add red and green peppers, bread crumbs; mix well, take from fire, and mix-in, very gently, the crabmeat. Stuff shells, mounding highly; and remembering not to break the
lumps
of crabmeat. Sprinkle lightly with bread crumbs, and run in hot oven to bake to a nice brown.

ROSE SHEPHERD

S
t. Augustine being the seat of the Florida shrimp industry, there is always a plentiful supply of the tasty crustaceans available at a very nominal price. Shrimp pilau, or “perlow,” as it is more commonly referred to, is a favorite dish, particularly, for congregation suppers prepared for the churches.

A recipe handed down from the early Minorcan settlers is the one most ordinarily used. The proportions are:

In preparing the shrimp, the sand vein is first removed, and the shrimp thoroughly washed in cold water, and cut in two—medium size gives the best flavor. The salt pork is cut in small dice and fried, the can of tomatoes and peppers cut fine are added. Simmer until light brown. Raw shrimp are added and cooked for a few minutes, then water enough added to make three and one-half cups. Put all together in a heavy pot, and when the contents boil, add rice. Cook slowly until finished. Thyme and other spices may be added. The rice grains should be separate. Salt to taste and serve.

The committee gathers in the church kitchen early in the day the supper is to be served. The purchasing committee has ordered for a contemplated 100 persons a pound of shrimp each, or 100 pounds. It is known in advance how many may be expected, as tickets have been sold, usually at 35 cents each, so the committee may know from the sale of tickets just how many will be present. Other contents of pilau are ordered accordingly. Also French bread, two or three pounds of coffee, pickles, salad, five 1-gallon cans of beans for baking, and tarts or lemon pie for dessert.

When the pilau is ready, the supper is served at 6 p.m. or 6:30 p.m. Since it is a religious affair, the minister of the church and his family, with the elders or trustees, have the seats of honor.

The dinner is preceded by an invocation, and during the serving an improvised choir renders hymns and other sacred music, the diners joining often in the singing.

Such dinners often precede an important business meeting, or plans for a revival, and at the conclusion everybody adjourns to the church proper, where the matter in hand is discussed, or plans formulated for whatever action is contemplated. These are considered opportune occasions for getting the congregation together under very happy circumstances, especially the men of the congregation. The money derived from the sale of tickets, after deducting the necessary expenses, is turned into the coffers of the church.

LOUISE JONES DUBOSE

C
hicken Bog might be called the masculine version of chicken pilau in South Carolina. It is one of the principal dishes for out-door gatherings in and around Darlington. Each cook has his own particular way of preparing the “bog,” which belies its name in being almost crumbly. The main ingredients are chicken and rice. Some like young chickens, some like more flavorsome old ones. They all agree that the chickens must be cut in pieces and boiled, seasoned with salt and pepper. When the meat is cooked so that it slips off the bone it is removed from the pot and thoroughly washed rice put in the stock.

Just at this point there are also divergences of opinion. One person adds butter and another insists on fat that has been fried out of salt pork. When the latter is preferred, the grease and bits of browned meat are added when the rice has begun to cook. Then the chicken is put back in the pot and the whole seasoned with salt and black pepper, a good deal of pepper. It must cook slowly until the liquid is absorbed by the rice that afterward steams dry.

A huge iron pot is called for when a big crowd attends the event. But, with small proportions, anyone who knows how to cook rice can make a chicken bog.

JOHN W. THOMAS

T
here are many kinds of delicious food all over Virginia; but there is no food more valuable than the chicken; especially in Northern Neck, Virginia. In this section one can find all kinds of good things to eat; crisp fried oysters, soft shell crabs, fish pudding, corn on the cob and all kinds of foliage food. But there is none which takes the place of the chicken on the family menu. There is an annual revival meeting at every church in the state and in the rural districts; chicken assumes its proper place at these services. Here the sisters bring large baskets of food to church with chicken as the main course; chicken baked, fried, stewed, stuffed, and broiled. The very nature of the services demands chicken. After a half day of hilarious worship the services suddenly come to a halt. The chicken fat preacher will say: “Brothers and sisters we all done had a great time in Zion dis mornin’; now we come to another important part of de services, a greater time-amen! I see de sisters got a heap lot of baskets out on de hard, I jest knows ’tis chicken in dem-amen! We all goin’ out and eat-amen! After we done ate we will be in some shape to receive de holy ghost-amen! and specially if ’tis chicken we done et.”

Soon the little church is empty and hundreds of people are standing around a long row of tables, made of old boards covered with snow-white sheets. In the center there is a large platter of chicken, sometimes a small wash tub full of chicken. The person will ring his hands with a half hungry and holy-ghost look in his eyes and say: “Let us ask de blessin’. ‘Lord, we knows ’tis a sin to kill; but we kilt dese chickens for a purpose. Therefore we thank you for dis food, Lawd, ’cause dose chickens gave their lives that we might have meat, as you gave your life dat we might have salvation, we thank you Lawd-amen.’ ”

Then everybody reaches for the chicken. A dozen of the sisters at one time help the preacher’s plate with a chicken leg. Sister Mary, the head Deacon’s wife, is begging the pastor to have some of her chicken that was especially fried for him.

Everybody is eating and happy when suddenly some sinner boy who has enough embarrasses everybody by yelling, “Chicken ain’t nothing but a bird.” There are Christians standing at the table, sitting on the grass in automobiles; but all have chicken. There are certain unwelcome worshippers; flies, ants, dogs, cats, and even church mice attracted from miles around by the aroma of chicken. Legend says that the chicken is a holy bird, a gospel fowl. Country folk use the roosters instead of an alarm clock. If a rooster crows on the fence, it will clear and the rain is over; if he is on the ground there is sure to be a heavy rain; and if a rooster crows under a window, someone in the family is sure to die. These chicken worshippers say that in the spring time if a rooster sees a preacher coming he will warn all the chickens to hide and will declare war on the parson. I conclude that chicken is an indispensable food in Virginia. Not for all the crisp fried chicken, it might even be baked and some cavalier might broil this holy bird, but not me, no, sir, as a preacher, I would not think of approaching the chicken house after dark—unarmed.

Note: This contribution is from a Negro man who is a Baptist preacher.

JACK BATHIA, D’IBERVILLE, MISSISSIPPI

A
lmost the only use of filé is to thicken, color, and faintly flavor gumbo. A level teaspoonful of filé is enough for a large pot of gumbo; too much makes it ropey.

Actually, filé is made of sassafras leaves and nothing more, although some people add bay leaves to it. Most cooks prefer to add their bay and other herbs and spices separately so that they know exactly what is going into the soup. In June or July the leaves are pulled from sassafras saplings and hung up in the shade, usually inside the house, to dry. Sun drying or even heating destroys the oils essential to good filé. The plants that are too young, those that look almost like weeds are not stripped for making filé. Some people pull each leaf separately and string them on thread which is hung up; others break off small twigs with many leaves on them and hang the whole twig, pulling the leaves off when they are dry.

Drying usually takes about two or three weeks, after which the leaves are placed for a few hours in the sun just to make them crisp. When crisp, the leaves are crushed between the hands and dropped into the bowl of an upright log, about three feet high. This bowl has been cut out in one end of the log to form a cup about eight inches deep, and then burned inside to smooth the sides. The broken leaves are pounded in this bowl with a long club until they are very nearly pulverized. Afterward, the stems and tough fibers are picked out, and the remainder sifted through a fine-meshed tea strainer. The rough powder is then bottled in clean half-pint whiskey bottles, with no labels, and sold at prices varying from 15¢ in ordinary years to 25¢ at the present time.

The manufacture of filé involves much labor of cleaning clothes and hands afterward. The powder forms a gummy substance like cornstarch when wet and it is almost impossible to wash out of clothes. To clean the hands that are covered with filé powder requires about six or seven separate washings.

G
randma Smith, sprightly, deeply wrinkled and bronzed by outdoor life, and with a bit of Choctaw ancestry, gives this recipe for hoecake:

“Take you about a quart of meal; a teaspoon salt (it mightn’t be salt enough for you an’ again it might); make it up (not too soft) with water (some folks use hot water to make it stick together but I don’t have no such trouble iffen I bake it good an’ brown—an’ to my mind hot water gives it a gummy taste); put in hot pot or pan that’s well greased (Indians used to use hot stones); put it down with your spoon flat; let it lie over that fire till you know there is a good crust on the under side; turn it over an’ brown the other side; then eat.”