Mae’s Raisin Wine

This is, according to my mother, in Mae’s handwriting.

I have no recollection of anybody drinking this during my childhood. There was always stuff for cocktails in Mae’s pantry, though I’m not sure if Mae drank even socially. But as kids we always got dosed with a medicine made of warm whiskey, honey, and lemon when we were at Mae’s and we were sick.

Maybe this recipe is an old Depression-era artifact.

Anyway, it calls for 3 pounds raisins, 3 pounds sugar, 1/2 yeast (half of what, I can’t tell you), 2 oranges, and 6 quarts of water that has been boiled and then cooled.

The instructions are to mash the raisins, then add sugar and oranges. Let this mixture set for six weeks. Then take off and bottle.

“Take off” what I also can’t tell you. I presume that at some point, you are to add the mashed raisins etc. to that cooled water and put the whole thing up in some kind of container, although the recipe as given skips those specifics.

Obviously I haven’t tried this, and I’ve never made any kind of beverage at home that needed fermenting, so I am ignorant about how those specifics might go. But if you know, please share!


See the Family Recipes directory here.

Nanny’s Crawfish Puffs

For y’all younger cousins/grandkids/etc., Nanny Laclos is Dio and Julia’s marraine (godmother). This recipe came to Grandma via Nanny’s daughter Janice Hebert, according to the note on the recipe card.

12 frozen puff pastry shells1 1/2 sticks butter
1 tablespoon tomato sauce1/3 cup chopped celery
1/4 cup chopped bell pepper2/3 cup chopped onion
1 pound cleaned crawfish tails1/4 teaspoon hot pepper sauce
1/2 teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper1/8 teaspoon red pepper
1/2 teaspoon saltdash of fine black pepper
1 1/2 heaping tablespoons corn starch1 1/3 cups water
1/4 cup chopped parsley2 cups grated processed cheese
1/4 cups crushed sliced almonds2 tablespoons parsley

Preheat oven to 350. Bake pastry shells per directions. Set aside.

Cook all veg in butter. Add seasonings. Cook 15 minutes.

Make corn starch paste in water and add to crawfish. Cook until thick.

Add cup parsley. Mix well and remove from heat.

Fill puffs. Top with cheese and crushed almonds. Return to oven a few minutes. Top with parsley and serve while hot.


See the Family Recipes directory here.

Grandma’s Fruit Cobbler

This is a really simple but really good fruit cobbler recipe. If you have fresh blueberries from the garden or farmer’s market, it shows them off without hiding them under a bunch of glurge. If you have fruit that’s kind of beat-up looking but still fine to eat, this highlights the flavor and nobody will know about the bruises. Nothing but some canned mixed fruit that nobody is going to eat? This recipe is brilliant with it and it will get eaten. In fact, the only fruit I have met that this recipe couldn’t “fix” was canned mango. I had to give that to the chickens, and the chickens didn’t actually seem too impressed. But when I’ve made it with *anything* else, everybody I’ve served it to has devoured it.

As given in Dio’s scrapbook:

1 cup flour1 cup sugar
1 cup milk1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1 stick butter

Preheat oven to 400 (F). Melt butter in baking dish. Mix remaining ingredients together. Pour over butter. Add sweetened fruit. Bake for 40-45 minutes.


“Melt butter in baking dish” means put the stick of butter in the baking dish and put it in the oven while it’s preheating. By the time it’s preheated, your butter should be melted, or just about.

Obviously this is not the hot-jam-with-biscuits-on-top type of cobbler. If you use canned fruit and pour the juice or syrup in too, you’ll arrive more at dumpling texture than biscuit texture. And then there’s a whole spectrum of possibilities in between, depending on how much fruit you use and what kind.

HOW MUCH FRUIT: And no, it doesn’t say how much fruit to put in. The answer is basically “whatever you have” (or “until it looks right“). I have made this with several cups of blueberries and I’ve made it with a single small can of canned peaches. You can’t really go wrong. (Except with mango.)

SWEETENED FRUIT: What constitutes sweetened fruit will probably be a matter of personal taste. This is plenty sweet enough if you use canned fruit. I do not drain the water/juice or syrup that the fruit comes in when I use canned fruit, and if you do it like that, you’ll probably find you can get away with less than a cup of sugar in this recipe. In any case, I wouldn’t add any extra sugar with canned fruit.

In fact, I don’t sweeten any fruit I put in here with the exception, sometimes, of fresh berries, and only if the berries are the only fruit going into it. And then that usually just means the whole thing gets a sprinkling of sugar on top that’s honestly mostly for show – a little lemon sugar to top a blueberry cobbler, for instance. This is a moist cobbler anyway, so it doesn’t really matter if your available fruit isn’t already sitting in its own juices. So where you might sprinkle your fruit with some sugar and maybe a little cornstarch ahead of time to get a nice, thick fruit “soup” in a different cobbler recipe, that doesn’t make much difference in this recipe.

BUTTER VS. MARGARINE: I have tried this with margarine when someone was sent to the store for butter and came back with a tub of the pale yellow abomination because some people were raised by wolves.* I think it was absolutely disgusting: the texture/mouthfeel was all wrong, and it wouldn’t melt in the baking dish like the butter will, and it definitely tastes like margarine and not butter, so I just don’t recommend it. But I suppose it can probably be done if you really want to do it. Other people liked it and one of those people has accused me of being a baking snob, so I guess YMMV.**


*Same person who was sent to the store for cheese and came back with … something shredded and orange. Nowhere on the packaging did the word “cheese” appear, not even in the weaselly phrase “cheese food product.”

**I’m really not a baking snob. In fact, I’m probably the worst baker in my family. My daughter was a better baker than I am by the time she was 12 (and probably before). I was just raised in a family that doesn’t do boxed cake, and I currently live with people who might wax rhapsodic about baked goods that you can buy at the gas station. So in my opinion, I’m not so much a snob as I am simply not a philistine.

See the Family Recipes directory here.

More notes toward gumbo genealogies

Finally transcribing the handwritten notes I took at the last family gathering (Grandma’s birthday at the end of February this year).

above one section, I wrote the phrase “never written down.” That refers to Mae’s’s gumbo recipes, right?

Mae put allspice balls in her chicken gumbo and so did Grandma, according to my mother. My mother does not because she doesn’t like them. I also wrote “also oysters,” but I don’t know if that referred to Mae or not.. I do remember Grandma’s gumbo with oysters.

I think we were definitely saying Grandma’s gumbo recipe didn’t ultimately hail from either what we’d call the Creole camp or the Cajun camp decisively. Matter of fact, I suspect the recipe at any given moment had a lot more to do with what was easily available and inexpensive rather than with any kind of gumbo ideology. Her family had been in Pensacola for a good while at that point and it makes sense to me that Pensacola might have its own distinct character or distinctions or divisions, perhaps. And seafood was cheap and plentiful, and sassafras grew wherever. And probably most folks had more than one gumbo recipe to fit available ingredients, seasons of the year, company dinner size, whether or not it’s Lent, etc.

The only thing all these family recipes seem to agree on with gumbo is the roux. I don’t think they even all agree on whether or not to serve it with rice.

I mean, Mae made okra gumbo with tomatoes that Aunt Betsy remembers as being quite thick. She also made chicken gumbo and seafood gumbo. If I wrote this all down correctly, that is at least three distinct gumbo recipes.

But on the next page I wrote that Aunt Betsy said that Mae made chicken and oyster gumbo and that was thinner and used file (imagine an accent ague there on that e, sorry). [Do I have *this* right, family?] So is that 1. chicken and oyster gumbo and 2. seafood gumbo with okra and tomato? Or something else? Mom said Mae made her own file (accent ague), ground the leaves in a Mouli grinder, and that she (Mom) has one. Of course I had to google what that was.

I wrote down that Grandma never used tomatoes (or okra) in her gumbo. So all of this raised in my mind a pressing question – why did Grandma’s gumbo recipe call for tomato ketchup? And why ketchup and not just tomatoes? And since her recipe seems to involve some deviation from the way her mother and sisters had prepared it in Pensacola, *where did this recipe come from?* That’s what I was dying to know.

So a few things. First, on returning to said recipe, Grandma apparently *did* use tomatoes in her gumbo after all, at least her seafood gumbo. Why did I write down several times that she didn’t? Well, ’cause somebody told me that. Who told me that and why?!

grandma seafood gumbo

Also of note – the “Lea & Perrins” instead of just Worcestershire sounds like her daddy. PaPa always called for it by name and would accept no substitutions. Had to be Lea & Perrins. The dash of Mrs. Dash sounds like Grandma. Grandma put a dash of Mrs. Dash in flippin’ everything.

Second, the gumbo-with-ketchup recipe apparently came from the neighbors. So Aunt Iris and Uncle Tommy McPhillips lived across from Grandma’s house on Victory Drive. Next to them on the corner was Aunt Sarah and Uncle Mike and Aunt Lizzie (who might have been Sarah’s aunt). That’s the Aunt Lizzie of the recipe Aunt Lizzie’s Pound Cake from Dio’s scrapbook.

Iris and Irene Moore were twins who lived down the street. Their mother was Irene Moore. They were relatives of Aunt Iris and Big Irene from around the corner. [Do I have this right, family? This seems… convoluted. Or needlessly repetitive. Or just wrong. or something.]

And the gumbo with ketchup recipe came from Aunt Iris and Big Irene. Now I  should have asked y’all where Iris and Irene were from, because that’s important to the story and history of the gumbo. But if i did ask you and I did get an answer, i don’t seem to have written it down :/

Third, I looked at Aunt Joyce’s again to see if we could trace any patterns at all here, and look at that — KETCHUP.

aunt joyce gumbo 1

aunt joyce gumbo 2

I’m wearing my skeptical face now. Anyway, juice of a lemon in common, most seasonings in common, and in fact she and her sister could have cribbed off each other here, really – theyr’e so similar. But Aunt Joyce used okra as well in this seafood gumbo, no file, yes oysters.

So now the genealogy of the entree of ketchup into the family gumbo no longer seems like the right question. It wasn’t apparently the very odd thing that I was led to believe it was. And now I’m not so sure it matters where those neighbors were from.

Anyway, okra makes sense to me in a gumbo with tomatoes. And I am agnostic on the question of tomatoes more generally. I think both tomato and non-tomato gumbos have their place. But y’all, I still don’t get why the hell you would put ketchup in the gumbo.

Now looking at Grandaddy’s side of the family, his sister Aunt Jean seemed to think like I do – if we are gonna do tomatoes, just make up your mind to do so and figure it out with what you have. I see no evidence she would put in tomato paste AND tomatoes, or tomatoes AND ketchup, or etc.

Jean MeeMa Turner Gumbo Recipe

She’s yes on the okra, yes on the file, dark on the roux, and this is actually a chicken and seafood gumbo – or at least seafood with possibility of chicken. I’m a little wary on the crab boil element, but other than that, this is pretty much how I’d make gumbo (like my mother, I give the oysters a pass). Well, and I would not cook my onion in the microwave. But anyway – I “get” this one. (I have never in my life felt like I could afford all the seafood to make a big old pot of seafood gumbo. So this is all theoretical on my part lol… I only make chicken and sausage gumbo, which I’ll deal with next time I guess.)

Finally, I didn’t get too far with tracking down gumbo ketchup clues with this, at least not yet. But in the looking, I found a ketchup recipe, at least, that was probably copied around 1900 and has survived in the papers of Mobile’s German Relief Association. Apparently ketchup recipes at the time were pretty different to what they are now.

tomato catsup recipe

I imagine our ketchup today is a lot sweeter and tangier and altogether noticeably different. So it’s possible that ketchup in gumbo wouldn’t have seemed as weird then as it does to me now. This is really kinda more like a savory tomato paste or something??

I don’t know. Somebody make this antique ketchup and report back to us!

And if you know why people use modern ketchup in gumbo instead of tomato paste or whatever, please say!


Sources

  • Daniels, George. “From the Archives: Cookin’ with History… an Old South Catsup Recipe.” Gulf Coast Historical Review, 1.1, Fall 1985. 79.

Notes:

For any non-family wandering by actually looking for a recipe, some of these are kind of taciturn or assume you know certain things already on some of the details. If you haven’t ever made gumbo before, you probably want to start with a recipe that explains some more details than these. This one at Scrumptious 
Chef has some good notes that might be helpful.

Sue Sue’s Lime Jell-O Salad – “Green Stuff”

The only green thing you’d ever see on some of the boys’ plates at family gatherings. From Dio’s scrapbook. (For the younger cousins, Sue Sue is Aunt Joyce’s daughter.)


  • 3 ounces lime Jell-O
  • 8 ounces cream cheese
  • 1 medium can crushed pineapple
  • 1 small tub Cool Whip
  • 3 cups marshmallows (1/2 bag)
  • 1 cup pecans

Not mentioned in ingredients list but called for:

  • Grated cheddar cheese
  • Maraschino cherries

Drain pineapple juice into one-cup measuring cup. Fill the rest of the way with water. Boil and dissolve Jell-O, cream cheese, and marshmallows. Cool mixture and run through mixer until smooth. Fold in pineapple and nuts and add Cool Whip. Garnish with grated cheddar cheese and cherries.


I do not personally know what different sizes Jell-O comes in. I don’t think I knew it came in more than one size, so I’m not sure what to tell you about “three ounces.”

I also don’t know the size of a “medium” can of crushed pineapple, as opposed to a large one, or the size of a “small” tub of Cool Whip, as opposed to… any other size. But that’s the Tally-Hall branch of the family for you – don’t push it too hard on measurements or you’ll get told, “You know, just a glunk, ’til it looks right.”

Emma’s “Red Stuff”

I wanted to do these based on themes, but I’ve got too much going on. I’ll never post them if I spend my scant “spare” time digging in them for the right recipe. So I’m just grabbing one at random.

From one of Grandma’s recipe notebooks, titled “Emma’s.” That’s it. That’s the name of it. It doesn’t say “red stuff” or “gelatin dessert” or anything else. I’m only calling it “red stuff” because we have a favorite “green stuff” recipe in our family that’s similar but with lime gelatin (obviously) and without cranberries.

This would be Aunt Emma for y’all younger cousins, Granddaddy’s sister.


  • 1 box cherry or any red Jello (large)
  • 2 cups boiling water
  • 1 can whole cranberry sauce
  • 1 can regular size of drained crushed pineapple
  • 1 cup chopped pecans
  • 1 8-ounce package cream cheese
  • 1 8-oz Dream Whip
  • 1 cup miniature marshmallows

Add hot water to Jello to dissolve, then cranberry. Stir well. Add pineapple and pecans. Let stand until firm (overnight maybe).

Topping: in separate bowl, soften cream cheese. Add Cool Whip and mini marshmallows. Let set overnight in refrigerator. Beat this mixture until smooth and then spread over cranberry mixture.


I don’t recall ever having this one. It was always “green stuff” at family gatherings that I can recall. (I believe I heard at least one family member remark that when the cousins were young, that was the only green thing some of the boys would eat. I guess I’ll post the “green stuff” recipe next.)

ETA: As I mention in the recipe for Green Stuff, I don’t know how many ounces are in a large vs. any other size package of Jell-O, so you’re on your own if the inventory at the local grocery store doesn’t clue you in. And I don’t know what a “regular size” can of crushed pineapple is, as opposed to any other size, so you’ll have to make your best guess on that one, too.

Excellent Roux Recipe

This might be the best… let’s call it a set of roux instructions instead of a recipe… ever.

From NOLA Cuisine, who doesn’t have an About page that I saw so I don’t know who they are yet, these roux instructions, titled First You Start With a Roux, call for the following:

  • one cup homemade rendered lard (you can get instructions for that, too, if you click through to the recipe)
  • 1 3/4 cup all-purpose flour
  • one or two bottles of Dixie or Abita beer
  • absolutely inexplicable capitalization choices in some places, but the instructions are good enough to outweigh that, even for me (and I’m a former English teacher whose eye twitches with stuff like that)

Seriously, looks like a neat site, though. There’s a creole and Cajun recipe index that’s making me hungry right now, and it lists a recipe for Turkey Bone Gumbo, which if you read this blog, you know I’ve gotta try out and fit into my “gumbo genealogies” project somehow!

quick update/placeholder for later

Still spending all my time trying to earn money, grow food, and launch new online shop thing. Slow going.  But so they don’t get lost, recent contributions from family members that I’ll post more about/flesh out later.

 

IMG_0859

IMG_4223

also figure out why gumbo recipe and raisin wine won’t upload and fix it.

Granddaddy’s Boiled Peanuts

There isn’t much to this in the way of a “recipe,” but it’s one of the only recipes I have from Granddaddy’s side of the family (Curtis Lamar Conner), so it’s here representing more than its fair share of family foodways. I can’t believe I don’t have a single recipe from his mother, Grandma Conner. He waxed lyrical about her fried chicken, for Pete’s sake. Wish I knew her precise process.

Here’s the “recipe” as recorded in Dio’s scrapbook:


Rinse peanuts with water. Cover peanuts with water. Add 1/2 cup to 1 cup salt. Boil 30-45 minutes. (Certain varieties of peanuts take much longer to cook.) Or cook in pressure cooker 5-10 minutes. Taste to see if they are done. If not salty enough, sprinkle with salt and let peanuts cool in water.



Here’s the fried chicken letter he wrote to his mother.

granddaddy letter home to grandma conner



See draft bio-in-progress of Grandaddy at the Conner blog (password protected – it’s his favorite beer, written as all one word, lowercase. Write me for the password if you don’t know the answer).

See the Family Recipes directory here.

Aunt Jean’s Seafood Gumbo / Gumbo Geographies

This recipe and photo are courtesy of Larry Turner – thanks!

Now this is going to lead into a larger discussion/post, but it’ll have to wait ’til later after I talk to my mother again. She told me the “genealogy” of the various gumbo versions in the family and who adopted what recipe from where, and the version Grandma made apparently came from a neighbor or relative who got it from somewhere interesting – I can’t remember the details and I don’t know where I wrote the notes down. But apparently Grandma’s gumbo recipe didn’t come from her mother Mae, so wasn’t the Pensacola version, but from somewhere else, like some little fishing village or something, I can’t remember.

I’m not sure where Aunt Jean’s came from, if it was a Morris recipe or if she picked it up elsewhere. I have nothing really to base this on other than geography, I guess, but I have the sense that gumbo wouldn’t have been a frequent Morris-Conner family thing in Conecuh County, at least not when it took a lot longer for people and goods to travel from town to town. Certainly, Aunt Jean would have developed an arsenal of coastal seafood recipes as an adult, though, as her and Tiny’s life largely revolved around the sea and she and Shebo lived out their days on the banks of Turkey Branch Creek. I need to get back in touch with Larry and beg for more recipes (and apologize for ghosting) – this is one of only two recipes from the Conner-Morris side of the family that I have.

Anyway – I think you could do a really interesting comparison and “genealogy” of gumbo recipes in the family, look at various versions and ingredients, and observe some things that if unpacked/examined could tell you a lot about life, culture, traditions, and foodways on the Gulf Coast and the peculiarities of various little areas that definitely have their own takes on things and own flavors. Maybe one day I’ll have to time to research and write that… family history perspectives on gumbo?

Jean MeeMa Turner Gumbo Recipe

Sadly, I don’t believe I ever had Aunt Jean’s gumbo, but talk about a brilliant woman. I’m positive she was as brilliant at gumbo as she was at everything else.

I will type this out eventually when I have a little more time.


See the Family Recipes directory here.

Grandma’s Fluffy Waffles

In the recipe scrapbook she gave family members a decade or more ago, cousin Dio typed this recipe up and titled it “Mother’s Fluffy Waffles Grandma.” I *suspect* the mother here is Aunt Joanna, Dio’s mother, and this means Aunt Joanna uses her mother’s recipe, whom we kids call Grandma. But I’m not sure exactly whose mother and whose recipe is being referenced here.

EDIT: Dionysia has reported in to clarify. She writes that this was the recipe Grandma used, and she thinks Grandma clipped it out of a newspaper, and the person who sent it in to the newspaper called it “Mother’s Fluffy Waffles.” So the mother in question in this recipe is not any of our relatives at all but the mother of some random person who sent the recipe in and whose name has not been passed down along with the recipe. Thanks, Dio!


  • 3 tsp baking powder
  • 1/2 tsp salt
  • 2 cups flour
  • 2 egg yolks beaten
  • 2 cups milk
  • 1 cup oil
  • 2 egg whites whipped

Blend dry ingredients. Combine egg yolks, milk, and oil. Stir into dry ingredients. Fold in egg whites. Fill waffle iron. Cook until steam no longer appears.


Having never myself owned a waffle iron, I’ve never made these and I can’t tell you how long “until no steam appears” is.

EDIT: Dio cleared this up, too. She says, “Most waffle makers have an indicator light on them, however, if still steaming, then wait a little longer.”

grandma and sisters

 

I also can’t give you any waffle pictures, so here’s a picture of my grandmother and her two sisters instead. No idea when it was taken, alas.

See the Family Recipes directory here.

Random WTF Pasta / Last-Minute Company

I found out two friends of Mike’s were coming over at the last minute. We haven’t bought groceries in weeks and I’m truly reaching the bottom of the barrel in terms of pantry/reserves. So I made a skillet full of Random WTF Pasta with the last of the butter, powdered milk, the last of this bag of flour, the last of the Parmesan, every close-to-ripe sweet pepper and cherry tomato in the garden (and it wasn’t very many), the only broth I had left in the freezer (ham, Feb 2017, eek), and the only meat we have, which is some godawful “healthy” turkey sausage stuff his mother gave us.

They liked it so much they offered to the dishes so I’d have time to write down the recipe. I stifled my laughter and said it was just a bechamel, what we had lying around, and some Tony Chachere’s. The wife looked totally mystified.

Oh. In that case, yeah, I’d be happy to share the recipe with you. It will take a while to write down all the esoteric elements and many steps of this recipe that’s been closely guarded and passed down on deathbeds in my family for generations. And I’ll have to give you coordinates so you can find the tiny little Asian grocery store over on the bayou, ’cause it’s the only place in three states you can get some of these ingredients, you can’t even find the road on Google Maps, and she doesn’t have a phone. Oh, and you’ll need the secret handshake.

But since you’re doing the dishes, I should have time. (guffaws)

Well, this might be the only recipe I ever contribute to this blog or any other site in existence, but here you go. I guess you could call it a pasta sausage skillet or something, but I call it Random WTF Pasta.


Pasta cooked al dente, drained.

Sausage – Brown in skillet. If using turkey sausage or similar low-fat/healthy options, ignore any package directions about heating in 3/4″ water or whatever. Cook it in bacon grease for everything to cook properly. (Olive oil or something is better than nothing but you’ll lose a lot of flavor this way.) Remove to paper towels to drain when browned.

Fresh tomatoes and sweet peppers – chop into sizes that will fit on a fork with your pasta. Once you remove your sausage from the skillet, add the peppers and let them cook for a couple of minutes – not so long they get all limp. Add the tomatoes and cook for another minute or two. Then turn off the heat.

Bechamel: milk, butter, flour, parmesan, creole seasoning, pepper, chicken (or whatever) broth. This is just a basic bechamel starting with equal parts butter and flour in a saucepan. If you’ve never made a bechamel, you should probably heat your milk up in a separate saucepan as you’re doing your butter and flour – less likely to get lumps that way, and lumps are usually the problem when bechamel goes wrong. Just heat it on low ’til it just barely bubbles on the sides and then turn off the heat.

For about 3/4 of a large package of pasta, use about 4 TBSP butter and 4 TBSP flour and 2 1/2 cups of milk. Melt the butter and then sprinkle in the flour. Stir constantly for about two minutes. You want a fairly smooth paste that’s starting to bubble but don’t let it brown (turn the heat down if you have to). Even if you get the paste at one minute, you still want to cook it for about 3 minutes or the flour will be raw, and that’s the other way that bechamel usually goes wrong.

Add the hot milk and keep stirring until it comes to a boil. Then add creole seasoning (I use Tony Chachere’s) or whatever other spices, lower the heat, and cook for another 2 minutes or so, stirring the whole time. Add parmesan (about half a cup I guess?) and a splash of broth (amount depends on what consistency you’ve got – you don’t want watery but you don’t want it so thick you can’t pour it, either). Cook for another minute or so, then remove from heat. You might want to taste it once it cools a little and adjust seasonings to your preference.

Once the sauce is the way you like it, add the sausage back to the veggies in the skillet, pour the bechamel over all that, put your pasta in there, stir it all up, and serve it. If anything’s gone cold in the meantime and you need to reheat, you might need another splash or two of broth – you want the sauce to coat everything pretty easily. Then that’s it – serve it up hot.

Pa Pa’s Baked Beans

papa recipe baked beans
scan of handwritten recipe courtesy Betsy Conner April 2020

You might call Pa Pa’s recipes “laconic,” if you wanted to personify them. He worked in a grocery store/deli and who knows where all he collected/developed his recipes, but as slim as they are on details, these are still in use in the family and are even the go-to recipes for some of us. But they will crack you up with how little “recipe” they actually contain.


Dionysia’s book version:

Boil white navy beans tender. Drain off water.

Add:

  • salt and pepper
  • brown sugar
  • molasses
  • tomato ketchup
  • chopped ham scraps
  • a little ham grease

Mix well and bake.


That’s it, that’s the whole thing. So I guess everything is “to taste.” How long do you bake it for? Beats me! Uh, “’til it looks right“?

 

 

 

 

***

See the Family Recipes directory here.

Read more about Pa Pa’s life and family at Conner-Tally Family History.

Pa Pa’s Chicken Salad

This was Frank Haygood Tally aka Pa Pa’s chicken salad recipe. Pa Pa is my great-grandfather on my mother’s mother’s side (Mae’s husband). This is the only chicken salad I think my mother and Grandma ever made/make. Not much to it, and zero measurements, which is about par for the course for these family recipes (read more about that at Mae’s Corn Cakes / ‘Til It Looks Right), but Pa Pa’s recipes are still in active circulation and use in our family and he was no slouch in the kitchen, even if he wasn’t prone to writing down a bunch of details with them. (He worked in a deli/grocery store in Pensacola.)


  • Use equal parts chopped chicken, celery, and hard-boiled egg.
  • Salt, pepper, add chopped capers and mayonnaise.

That’s it. That’s the whole thing. I think this recipe is the only reason my mother has capers in the refrigerator. I personally skip the capers.

***

See the Family Recipes directory here.

Read more about Pa Pa’s life and family at Conner-Tally Family History.

Mae’s Corn Cakes / ‘Til It Looks Right

mae

Mae is my great-grandmother on my mother’s mother’s side. She was pretty much the matriarch of that branch of the family, and the extended family made regular trips to her house to get together for holidays and various occasions. So her recipes and her kitchen and her dinner table figure pretty massively into my earlier memories and my entire foundational understanding of what food is, what it does (besides just fill your belly), what it should tastes like and look like, etc. And even though both Mae and her house are now gone, I imagine every single one of us can see her face and taste her rice and gravy or corn cakes right now if we just tried for a second.

So Mae’s recipes are still a regular part of my life. And that means that Mae’s approaches to recipes are something I have to face regularly. You see, Mae didn’t include much in the way of precise or standardized quantities, and unless she was baking, she probably didn’t even measure stuff the same way twice. And her daughters all learned their way around food that way, and so have their daughters… well, you see where this is going. [n.1] 

Thus, generation of Conners have had conversations with their mothers that went something like this.

Hmm, this recipe calls for the infamous “glunk of butter.” I better call Mom.

“Mom, how much is a glunk?”
“Oh, you know, just a few dollops.”
“Gee, thanks, Mom.”
“Well, I don’t know, you just add it ’til it looks right.”
“‘Til it looks right? So a glunk is a visual estimation of volume and it doesn’t have anything to do with how loud it sounds or how long the sound goes on for? So it’s not related to a glurg or a gurgle or a splash?”
“What? I don’t know. It’s not a big deal! Just put a glunk in there.” [n.2] [n.3]


Mae’s Corn Cakes

About: [n.4]
1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup cornmeal
1 tsp salt
1 heaping navy spoon full baking powder [n.5]
1 egg
Water ’til it slides off the spoon [n.6]

Fry by the tablespoonful. [n.7]


If you aren’t in the habit of frying various things, please note this is NOT a recipe you can adapt into something you can do with a couple of glunks of cooking oil in a skillet. You can’t saute these. These are lbite-or-two spheres of puffy fried bread. They should be round. This is batter, not dough, so they aren’t gonna get and stay round unless you fry these babies in oil, enough to cover them up, and it needs to be hot enough to cook them properly. And the batter has to be the right consistency.

In short, this recipe assumes that you already know how to fry things. [n.8] So if you don’t, go look it up online somewhere before you try this recipe. Or call your mama and ask her!

***

[n.1] No, in my generation, nobody was really bucking any of those traditional gender roles, so you never saw any of the boys in the kitchen cooking anything, at least not past the age of 6 or so when they were maybe stirring some kind of cake batter for a minute so they possibly get a chance to lick one of the beaters or wooden spoons.

[n.2] Or, Why I Couldn’t Cook Rice Until I Was 35 Years Old:
“You just add water up to about your knuckle.”
“Oh, ffs, Mom!”

[n.3] Cousin Jon Conner has contributed one potential branch that this archetypal Conner family recipe experience can take with this continuation:

“How do you know when it looks right?”
“Right after you taste it and it doesn’t taste right! Told you you put too much.”

[n.4] Yes, the recipe says “about” before this list of ingredients. So you know, give or take. Use a teacup to measure. Or a cereal bowl, whatever.

[n.5] Don’t ask me what a navy spoon is, ’cause apparently everybody had one back then but nobody has one now. Dio informs me that this would have been about 4 1/2 or 5 teaspoons ’cause her mama (Aunt Joanna) has the spoon, so Dio measured it so more than one person could make corn cakes.

ETA 4/27/19 to add photograph of Mae’s navy spoon from Aunt Joanna’s:

 

So literally a spoon from the Navy, circa I don’t even know. Joanna has this one and Jon says Betsy has one, too. A serving spoon, maybe? Or soup? So where’d they come from?

 

 

 

 

 

 

mae navy spoon back

 

[n.6] How much water is that? Well, you know, you just “add it ’til it looks right.” Seriously, though, you can probably start with around 1/2 c and add from there.

[n.7] Now here we have evidence that Mae not only knew what tablespoons were, she owned some and even used them. So what’s special about the navy spoon measurement is totally beyond me. Maybe she just really liked that spoon?! And now I’m wondering which of her daughters ended up with the spoon. eta: Dio tells me her mother has it. Anyway, a tablespoon is about right. Or a soup spoon would probably be okay. They puff up pretty good and you don’t want ’em too crowded in the oil or too large to cook properly and evenly.

[n.8] The first time I tried to make these, I did not know because I’d never truly fried anything in my entire life. I had to call my cousin Dio and ask her what the hell one fries corn cakes in since it seemed like a skillet wouldn’t work, and she informed me a decent sized saucepan would work, and so there I was in my 30s frying something for the first time in my life, after which I was completely baffled about what I was supposed to do with all that oil left in the saucepan.

Oh, and my first batch of corn cakes really sucked, too, ’cause the oil wasn’t hot enough. So they were heavy, and greasy, and they weren’t round. In fact, they looked kind of like funnel cake, though they pretty much just tasted like partially crunchy grease. But how to tell when the oil is hot enough will be another post!

ETA and Gail (Aunt Joyce’s daughter) says she has the pot Mae used to fry hers in. Maybe we can get a pic of that, too?


See the Family Recipes directory here.

Recipe Disaster: Zucchini Fritters

So we had to cook this zucchini tonight. I used this linked fritter recipe: Zucchini Fritters – Damn Delicious

 

I give the results a resounding “meh.” But it’s probably my fault and not the recipe.

For starters, I don’t even like zucchini and so I have zero experience cooking it. But for some reason I decided to grow some, and it grew, and we had to cook it.

So I didn’t weigh anything. I just used what I had to harvest, one large and two medium zucchini. Second, I might not have put enough weight on the shredded veg, or for long enough, to get enough moisture out. My eggs are not large so I used two. Other than that, I followed the recipe.

Medium high heat was a disaster. They were burned on one side in 60 seconds. Maybe I don’t know what medium-high heat is exactly, at least on this stovetop. The rest weren’t so bad on medium heat, but now that I’m eating them, the only thing giving them any flavor is the charred bits (and the sour cream I topped mine with). They are not crispy all the way through, which is ok except they’re so *fresh watery veg* on the inside still that it’s just weird, the contrast. And while the inside doesn’t taste objectionable, exactly, it’s not my favorite experience to bite into something crispy on the outside and have it be kind of moist and salad-like on the inside. I guess I should have made them thinner but I don’t see how I could have.

Mike loved dinner, he reports, though he did his own thing with it, which was basically stir chopped up bits of the fritters into his green salad and eat the whole thing stirred up together with ranch dressing poured all over it. At any rate, we are both full (I had lettuce that was about to bolt, so we couldn’t let it sit in the garden anymore, so salad yet again with dinner), and while the dish contained no meat, I don’t think he noticed. (Sometimes after an all-veg meal he’ll say things like “that would have been even better with some sausage” but at least with this, there were enough different *textures* going on – and a nice respite from our recent “x and rice” menu – that it didn’t seem like “somebody cooked dinner with whatever they could find.” It still pretty much seemed like a meal, even if not the best one ever.

Anyway, I look forward to trying *different* fritter recipes. And if I try this one again, I’m doubling the parmesan – hell, I’m doubling everything except the zucchini (since I don’t even like zucchini).