Thursday, July 3, 2014

Prairie Girls


Callie Mae
It’s Callie Mae, and I must tell you what my pappy decided to do. He heard about free land up north in a new state called Kansas. It cost five dollars to enter the state, and after you homesteaded land for a few years, you owned it. My brothers and he were excited about having their own land. Pappy made plans to leave in the spring and take all of us with them. Freedmen who came to Kansas and homesteaded were called Exodusters. Granny was sure this would be my adventure.
Something awful happened later in the fall before we could leave. My pappy was killed in a logging accident. Now my brothers and I don’t know what to do. I’ll tell you about our decision next.

 
 
Butchering Day
Callie Mae’s father, other sharecroppers and plantation owners butchered their own meat. My family butchered their own hogs and calves too. After the animal was killed, it aged for a time in an enclosed shed. Grandpa sharpened all the “butcher” knives on the stone in the shed, and the meat grinder was scalded with boiling water. A table was set up on the back porch (the coldest part of the house) where my father and grandfather cut up the pork or beef. The grinder was attached to a board placed between two milk cans. I sat on one end of the grinder to keep it from slipping off the can. My dad or grandfather sat on the other end and pushed the chunks of meat into the grinder while turning the handle. The end product was either hamburger or ground pork. The porch was cold, and I did not like just sitting there. It was not a job I enjoyed.
 
My mother took the ground pork, added spices and herbs to season, and formed walnut-sized sausage balls. These she fried in a cast-iron skilled and canned in jars. Only a small amount of beef was made into hamburger; we did not own a deep freeze. Most of the beef was cut into smaller chunks to fit into a canning jar, and Mother canned it too. Roast beef is still one of my favorite foods. It’s been a long, long time though since I have tasted meat as good as my mother’s canned roast beef, warmed in the oven on a cold, winter night.
 
 
 

 

No comments:

Post a Comment