11O WE FARM FOR A HOBBY 



right that is, if all the water has been extracted 

 from it, and if it is not exposed to the light. While 

 the difference between home-made and store- 

 boughten foods is always notable, it is nowhere so 

 remarkable as in lard. Until I made my own I did 

 not realize lard had any flavor at all or color. 



Now we turn to scrapple, the Pennsylvania 

 gourmets' bone of contention. One school insists 

 that scrapple is not scrapple but panhas masquer- 

 ading under an anglicized name given it by our 

 Welsh settlers. Have no truck with such unbeliev- 

 ers. Scrapple is scrapple and panhas is panhas. 

 Both are of the gastronomic nobility in their own 

 right; but they are not nor ever can be the same. 

 Panhas is made by taking the broth left over after 

 making liver puddin' and lacing with cornmeal 

 and buckwheat flour. It contains no meat. It is 

 cooled and hardened in pans, then sliced and fried 

 like mush. Outside the true scrapple belt, eastern 

 Pennsylvania, it is frequently fobbed off on the 

 innocents as scrapple. 



Every scrapple fancier likes his own recipe best. 

 Here is mine, again all-pork: into a large vessel 

 toss the head (not the jowl), the kidneys, the liver 

 (unless you like it fried, when it equals calves* 

 liver, or made into pudding), all the bits of skin 

 and of boney meat that can serve no other purpose, 

 and the cracklings that were strained out of the 

 lard. Cover with water and cook until the meat 



