134  t 
She  RURAL-  NEW-YORKER 
October  21,  1916. 
aiiser 
crons  bowl  of  apple  butter,  “No.  I  don’t 
make  that  by  the  quart,  I  make  it  by 
the  gallon.  I  was  most  goin’  to  say,  by 
the  barrel,”  explained  Aunt  Abigail. 
“You  s*-e,  we  have  so  many  apples  go  to 
waste  because  they  get  too  ripe  to  ship, 
so  we  just  make  ’era  up  into  butter. 
First,  .7 ni*  takes  a  lot  to  tbe  press  and 
gets  the  cider  squeezed  out  of  ’em.  Then 
I  fill  that  big  copper  kettle  you  see  out 
there  in  the  yard  bangin'  on  that  tripod 
with  the  elder.  We  build  a  fire  under 
it.  and  boil  the  cider  down  a  third.  Then 
we  have  the  apples  all  ready,  pared  and 
cored,  and  drop  ’em  in  the  boilin’  cider. 
They  cook  through  quick,  and  then  the 
real  work  begins  of  stirriu’  constant  for 
hours  to  keep  it  from  burniu’  on  the  bot¬ 
tom  while  it.  boils  down  to  the  thickness 
A  Dinner  of  “Hog  and  Hominy 
You  Have  to  Be  Carried  Away  From  It 
Westclox 
Alarm 
to  the  own.  “I'm  just  bakin’  a  few 
cookies  and  some  mince  pies,”  explained 
Aunt  Abigail,  as  she  noted  ray  question¬ 
ing  look.  “Goes  good  with  the  other 
things.  There  ain’t  no  secret  about  the 
cookies.  Everybody  knows  how  to  bake 
’era,  ami  there’s  as  many  kinds  as  folks 
almost.  I  made  some  molasses  cookies 
today,  and  tbe  only  hard  thing  they  is 
about  ’em  is  handlin’  ’em  soft.  I  just 
dip  ’em  with  a  spoon  iuetid  of  tryin*  to 
Toll  'em  out.  Less  work  and  taste  jest 
said  she.  “Her  and  Sara  is  comm  over 
tomorrow,  and  I  been  thlnkin’  on  the 
way  home  that  I’m  jest  go  in’  to  treat  'em 
to  a  right  good  dinner  for  onet.  One 
them  dinners  us  people  in  this  part  of 
the  country  are  proud  of,  and  something 
you  don’t  get  anywhere  else." 
“Well,  for  goodness’  sake,  what  land 
o  meal  can  that  be V"  said  1. 
“Why,  it’s  called  ‘hog  and  hominy’ 
around  these  parts,”  she  replied,  “but 
some  folks  that  try  to  put  on  a  few  airs 
calls  it  ‘pork  and  hominy’ !” 
“I  suppose  both  menu  the  same,  don’t 
they?”  said  I. 
“Exactly,”  replied  Aunt  Abigail,  “and 
now,  let’s  count  noses.  T  must  get  things 
started,  and  there  must  be  enough  and 
plenty,  for  they  do  say,  you  know,  as 
how  folks  eat  so  much  they  has  to  be 
carried  away  from  the  table.” 
We  all  laughed  heartily  at  this.  It 
was  Aunt  Abigail’s  evident  intention 
that  this  should  be  true  in  one  particular 
meal,  at  any  rate.  She  went  on,  “Now 
there’s  you  and  your  pa,  ami  Susan  and 
Sam,  and  me  and  Joe,  and  Lob  and 
Harry — that  makes  eight,  don’t  it?  Well, 
do  yon  want  to  follow  me  around  and 
see  how  this  dinner  is  done?  All  right, 
the  first  to  get.  started  is  the 
—Down  cellar  in  a  big  stone 
the  beautiful  white  hominy 
fully  prepared  from 
one  of  7’ tide 
First,  it  had  been 
those 
TWO  A.  M.-inky 
dark— that’s  when 
Big  Ben  starts  the 
Milkman’s  day. 
Out  of  bed  like  a  boy 
on  the  Fourth— nudges 
Big  Ben  to  a  hush- 
takes  up  the  tune  as  he 
whistles  to  work. 
Try  Big  Beh  yourself  a 
little  earlier.  See  how  he’ll 
bring  you  the  cream  of  the 
tDy  with  minutes  a-plenty 
for  every  task.  And  you'll 
take  up  his  tune  and  smile 
through  the  day. 
He’s  seven  inches  tall, 
spunky,  neighborly— down¬ 
right  good. 
At  your  jeweler’s,  $2.50  in 
the  United  States,  $3.00  in 
Canada.  Sent  prepaid  on 
receipt  of  price  if  your  jeweler 
doesn’t  stock  him. 
Hominy. 
crock  was 
that  had  been  so  can 
the  golden  corn  grown  in 
Joe’s  immense  fields, 
shelled  from  the  ear,  and  only 
showing  rows  of  full,  even  kernels  were 
chosen.  Theu  the  corn  was  covered  with 
a  solution  of  lye  made  from  the  wood 
ashes  of  Aunt.  Abigail’s  cook  stove.  There 
it  stood  for  four  hours,  and  when  re¬ 
moved,  lo,  the  golden  husk  was  loose  and  1- 
withered,  and  only  the  white  meat  re¬ 
mained.  An  instrument  something  like 
a  potato  rougher  was  then  employed  to  ag  g(K)( 
separate  the  husk  from  the  meat  and  q  ^  n 
also  the  tiny  black  speck  in  the  end  of  tj0ll <>-htc 
each  kernel,  and  the  finished  hominy  jt,g 
packed  away  to  be  used  as  needed.  Aunt  tin 
Abigail  dished  out  a  huge  quantity.  “Of  ma]{eg  , 
course,  you  can  buy  hominy  Ihese  days,”  ;\fIN( 
she  went  on,  “but  I  likes  my  own  the  0f\,00j 
best,  so  every  year  I  put  down  some,  not  j,0-j 
as  much  though  as  when  the  children  oj,  ^ 
was  all  at  home.”  Arrived  in  the  kiteh-  ^iinl  t 
en,  the  homiuy  was  poured  into  a  big  r ajsjl|S 
flat-bottomed  iron  kettle,  a  little  water  ()() 
added,  and  placed  on  the  back  of  the  ^  ^  ] 
stove  to  cook  slowly  and  thoroughly.  ,nv.lv  j, 
“You  can’t  cook  it  too  long,”  Aunt  Abi-  },,. '  ?(ilJ 
gail  explained,  “but  12  hours  is  the  ..j^  t 
shortest  time — ’tnin'.t  done  through  be-  ]utm.8 
fore  that.  The  bongkt<-u  stall'  is  partly  fhat’s  1 
cooked,  you  know,  and  don’t  take  any-  goJue‘  f( 
where  near  so  long.”  white  b 
Tim  IIam. — The  next  morning,  I  spied  jny’  tin 
Aunt  Abigail  on  her  way  to  the  smoke-  jH.u  t0 
house,  and  when  she  returned,  in  her  makes  i 
arms  was  a  big  ham.  This  had  been  few  f0]i 
taken  from  one  of  the  very  fattest  pigs  Corn 
in  Uncle  Joe’s  pen  some  s:x  or  eight  meal; 
weeks  before,  cured  in  a  solution  of  salt-  spoons 
petre,  salt,  and  water,  and  then  smoked  salt;  L 
over  a  “smudge”  as  it  is  called,  or  a  Mix  tot 
fire  without  a  blaze,  so  it  will  give  out  two  cuj 
good  constant  smoke.  I  hurried  down  to  t,n.  the 
the  kitchen,  and  there  saw  Aunt  Abigail  jt  sweet 
rip  off  the  outer  covering,  and  eut  right  stitute 
down  into  the  middle  of  the  ham.  Slice  and  ba 
after  slice  of  the  perfect  meat,  pink  ten-  This  m 
dor,  juicy  and  deliciously  flavored,  was  pl,>  Ju  t 
piled  up  to  be  browned  slowly  and  thor-  I  tliink 
ouglily  in  tbe  big  iron  skillet  just  before  jn  pri.j 
dinner  was  to  be  served.  “And  what  great  p; 
do  you  do  with  that  good  gravy  left  in  mashed 
the  pan?”  I  inquired,  when  the  meat,  butter, 
steaming  and  hot,  was  removed  to  the  cumber, 
big  platter.  “O,  that  is  to  pour  over  the  bean — b 
hominy  when  it  gets  to  the  table,”  she  eauliflov 
answered.  -  *  -  .  er  saw 
A  most  appetizing  aroma  greeted  my  had  ma 
nostrils  at  this  moment,  and  I  traced  it  the  tab) 
Western  Clock  Co. 
La  Salle,  111.,  U.  S.  A.  Makers  of  Westclox 
Other  Westclox:  Baby  Ben,  Pocket  Ben ,  Bingo, 
America,  Sleep-Meter. Lookout  and  Ironclad. 
The  Old  Folks  are  Comfortable 
you  like.  You  add  sugar  and  spices  to 
suit  your  taste  when  it  is  nigh  done, 
and  then  it  has  to  be  watched  closer  than 
ever  to  see  that  it  don’t  scorch.  It  takes 
all  day  and  part  of  the  night  to  get  it 
done.  Everybody  round  the  house  takes 
a  baud,  and  we  are  not,  sorry  when  it's 
done.  It’s  mighty  good  though,  when  the 
snow  is  Ilyin’  to  go  ro  tin  cellar  and  help 
yourself  to  a  big  jar  of  it.  I  suppose 
you  was  a  wonderin’  wlnit  that  wooden 
hoe  was  for — well,  that’s  wlmt  wo  stir 
it  with.  Can’t  use  anything  but  wood, 
or  the  acid  of  the  cider  would  eat  it,  and 
make  the  stuff  taste  bad.” 
(Continued  on  page  1350) 
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