tough chicken breasts
All the chicken breasts we buy or we can find are tough and even hard after cooking, sometimes. Wife is fixing some now sliced and in bbq sauce. Don't have great hopes for it. How do you fix Chicke...
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I thought I was the only kid that did that. mama or Grand Ma told me to go out and kill a couple of chickens for dinner which is lunch to you Yanques, on a Saturday. Everyone came home after half a day when the School bell rung across the mountain.
I was maybe three because my nexxt younger Brother hadn't come along yet.
What a couple? Well I guess it meant a few or five or six. anyway whatever I was told to do I had a responsiblity to do it. I ran down aand rung the necks on six or so chickens. The last one didn't die and ran around with it's head off all around the yard. I went in the kitchen and told Mama I didn't want to do it anymore.
She said wwll you don't have to. She walked out of the kitchen and saw the chickens laying around and said Lord your Grand Ma will tan your hide for killing all her chickens.
Grand Ma had been cooking on the wood cook stove and it was mid summer and hot anyway. Whe cam out of the Kitchen saying conarned you I'll teach you to kill all my chickens and down across the drive to a big sweet gum and broke off a big switch. She chased me around the yard, of about two acres for good bit.
I last looked back and she was bent over getting her breath looking like a pickled beet.
She walked onto the back porch and into the kitchen.
Mam came out and said it was okay in a minute or two. Told me I would have to help clean all those chickens.I had build a fire around the pot and carry water from the well. Mama scaled them and, I pulled feathers. She singed small feathers and hairs off with burning newspaper. That stinks.
at Dinner My Older Uncle sat at the end of table other Uncle the other end.
Grand ma and Uncles said you are going to have to eat all that chicken. The refrigerator was an Ice box and it was full.
Every little bit my Uncle would look at me and grin. Who learned you how to kill chickens. Grand Ma was still lamenting loosing all her chickens except maybe a couple. Everybody got several drumsticks and everything else. Uncle across the Holler showed up and helped. Mama took some to Neighbors, a was toward town.
Grand Ma's Chickens were like pets. She loved animals.
For a long time I was teased about it. Grand Ma would say stay away from my chickens, when I came for the summers.
There is no better eating than real chicken, fresh fried in lard on a wood cookstove, served with mountains of Kennebeck mashed potatoes with loads of cream and butter, lots of green ontions, corn bread form fresh yellow corn meal, and bacon drippings, big bowl of pinto beans, or ripe McCalslan green beans, seasoned with lard or bacon drippings,fresh yellow corn on the cob, fresh tangy good tomatoes thick sliced, and fresh milk or buttermilk not from powdered milk,Brewed and reddish, brisk, and clear ice tea, in a tall glass over cracked ice from the ice box, and to finish it off usually a big scratch made yellow cake, from fourteen inch skillet, with whipped frosting of fresh cream and sugar and sometimes some lemon in it and real straw berries, in summer.
My Uncles ate hardy but never put on a pound.
But that is another story.
I was maybe three because my nexxt younger Brother hadn't come along yet.
What a couple? Well I guess it meant a few or five or six. anyway whatever I was told to do I had a responsiblity to do it. I ran down aand rung the necks on six or so chickens. The last one didn't die and ran around with it's head off all around the yard. I went in the kitchen and told Mama I didn't want to do it anymore.
She said wwll you don't have to. She walked out of the kitchen and saw the chickens laying around and said Lord your Grand Ma will tan your hide for killing all her chickens.
Grand Ma had been cooking on the wood cook stove and it was mid summer and hot anyway. Whe cam out of the Kitchen saying conarned you I'll teach you to kill all my chickens and down across the drive to a big sweet gum and broke off a big switch. She chased me around the yard, of about two acres for good bit.
I last looked back and she was bent over getting her breath looking like a pickled beet.
She walked onto the back porch and into the kitchen.
Mam came out and said it was okay in a minute or two. Told me I would have to help clean all those chickens.I had build a fire around the pot and carry water from the well. Mama scaled them and, I pulled feathers. She singed small feathers and hairs off with burning newspaper. That stinks.
at Dinner My Older Uncle sat at the end of table other Uncle the other end.
Grand ma and Uncles said you are going to have to eat all that chicken. The refrigerator was an Ice box and it was full.
Every little bit my Uncle would look at me and grin. Who learned you how to kill chickens. Grand Ma was still lamenting loosing all her chickens except maybe a couple. Everybody got several drumsticks and everything else. Uncle across the Holler showed up and helped. Mama took some to Neighbors, a was toward town.
Grand Ma's Chickens were like pets. She loved animals.
For a long time I was teased about it. Grand Ma would say stay away from my chickens, when I came for the summers.
There is no better eating than real chicken, fresh fried in lard on a wood cookstove, served with mountains of Kennebeck mashed potatoes with loads of cream and butter, lots of green ontions, corn bread form fresh yellow corn meal, and bacon drippings, big bowl of pinto beans, or ripe McCalslan green beans, seasoned with lard or bacon drippings,fresh yellow corn on the cob, fresh tangy good tomatoes thick sliced, and fresh milk or buttermilk not from powdered milk,Brewed and reddish, brisk, and clear ice tea, in a tall glass over cracked ice from the ice box, and to finish it off usually a big scratch made yellow cake, from fourteen inch skillet, with whipped frosting of fresh cream and sugar and sometimes some lemon in it and real straw berries, in summer.
My Uncles ate hardy but never put on a pound.
But that is another story.
