half, rolled in sifted
cornmeal, salted and peppered, and fried crisp in plenty of boiling hot
fat. Served with hot biscuit, and stewed sun-dried peaches, along with
strong coffee, brown and fragrant, they made a supper or breakfast one
could rejoice in.
Backbone stewed, and served with sweet potatoes, hot corn bread, and
sparkling cider, was certainly not to be despised. The stewing was
gentle, the seasoning well blended--enough salt but not too much, red
and black pepper, and the merest dash of pepper vinegar. Many cooks left
the vinegar to be added in the plates. There was little water at the
beginning, and next to none at the end--the kettle was kept well
covered, and not allowed to boil over. Backbone pie held its own with
chicken pie--indeed there were those who preferred it. It was made the
same way--in a skillet or deep pan lined with rich crust, then filled
with cooked meat, adding strips of bacon, and bits of butter rolled in
flour, as well as strips of crust. Then the stewing liquor went into the
crevices--there might also be a few very tiny crisp brown
sausages--cakes no bigger than a lady's watch. Over all came a thick,
rich crust, with a cross-cut in the middle, and corners turned deftly
back. When the crust was brown the pie was done.
No doubt we were foolish--but somehow the regular "cases" made our
sausages unappetizing if we put it into them for keeping. Further the
"Tom Thumbs" were in great request for chitterlings--I never saw them
served to white folks but have smelled their savoriness in the cabins.
That is, however, beside the mark. We saved our sausage against the
spring scarcity in several ways. One was to fry it in quantity, pack the
cakes as fried in crocks, pour over them the gravy, and when the jar was
almost full, cover the top an inch deep with melted lard. Kept cool and
dark the cakes came out as good as they went in. Still there were
palates that craved smoked sausage. To satisfy them, some folk tied up
the meat in links of clean corn husks, and hung them at the side where
the smoke barely touched them. Another way was to make small bags of
stout unbleached muslin, fill, tie close, dip the bag in melted grease,
cool and smoke. The dipping was not really essential--still it kept the
sausage a little fresher. Latterly I have been wondering if paraffin had
been known then whether or not it would have served better than grease.
[Illustration: _Hams and Other Hams_]
The prop
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