8-17-08...SUNDAY DINNER
Now I had Dinner today (which by the way is the noon meal here) but it was not anything like those wonderful dinners we had on Sunday when I was growing up. The best and most scrumptous meal of our entire week. It was mostly prepared on Saturday and eaten after Church on Sunday. It was quiet a production. Winters were less because there were no fresh veggies from Daddy's garden. The chickens were molting so no fresh eggs, and no good ol' fresh chicken to fry. No milk from Brenda's Daddies cow ol' Pet. But Boy those summer Sunday's were a feast. On saturday evening after the chickens went to roost, Daddy would go out to the Chicken house and pick out a nice plump rooster to kill. The hens were kept for laying eggs and hatching more baby chickens to keep things productive. Only needed maybe two Roosters that wouldn't fight each other. Daddy would pick one and take it by the feet and bring it outside. Now if you are squemish ya' probly' better just quit readin' now. OK?? Anyway Daddy would wrap his hand around the middle of it's neck and swing it around and around till' the head popped off, then let the chicken flop till' it was dead. (IF YOU ARE GASPIN' FOR BREATH RIGHT NOW I WARNED YOU) It was the way it was done then, just a way of life that Daddy had to do to feed us. Some of you know how the chicken was then put down in boiling water for a spell so the feathers could be plucked. The rest of you probably dont wanna' know the rest of the story. That chicken (usually two of them) was fried up in hog lard in Mama's big Iron skillet. Oh My Sooooo Good. Chicken gravy made with flour , fresh cow milk, all cooked up in that skillet where the chicken was cooked. Fresh veggies, Chocolate cake with fresh cream. Oh I am so hungry. Well one fall evening Brenda and I got to wishing for some of that fried chicken. We decided to go on out to the chicken house and get us a chicken. Heck fire, we could do that. We had watched our daddies do it thousands of times. Right? Wrong! First off when we got in the hen house the roost was too high for us to reach. Brenda climb up on that bucket and get one. No, You do it. Brenda you'll have to help me. We managed to get on the bucket together and looked up to pick one off when I think every chicken in there started pooping. In our face and just about every inch of our body. Brenda grab one and lets go. She reached up and said which one. Don't matter. When I reached up to help her the bucket tipped over with us and down we went. All the chickens got spooked and started flying down landing all over us with those sharp feet. We were afraid to get up and we had left the door open so guess what? YEP! Those chickens scattered and out they went. Now we are in trouble Brenda, them chickens are a'gonna get in Daddies garden and eat everything up. I'm a'goin home she said. Oh no you're not you're a gonna help me round up them chickens. The Chicken house was not close to the house but Daddy heard the chickens and come a runnin'. Of course there was no catching chickens. They had been on roost so daddy said,:; You two just better hope they go back in there to roost or they will be in the garden first thing in the morning. What in the world were you a' doin' anyhow? We told him we just wanted to get a chicken and get it ready for Mama to fry so he wouldn't have to do it. Girls those aren't fryers, they are layers, but that was nice of you to think of it. Next time ask before you go off doin' somethin' like that. We didn't get a tannin that time even though I know we needed it. Poor Daddy had to sit up that night and close the door after the chickens went back in, and it's a wonder they did. Poor Mama had to heat water and clean us up. We felt so bad. We were sorry that we did it and I think Mama and Daddy knew that. Years later I knew that they were probably hurt also. Hurt that they couldn't get a chicken to fry for us. Daddy killed a laying hen and Mama made dumplins the next day. I'm sitting here crying right now over that. Our parents fed us what they had to feed us and we never went hungry, but oh those Sunday dinners still makes my mouth water. I can almost taste that chicken. No Chicken has ever tasted the same. I miss those simple days. YEP SURE DO!!!!!
