20. TEXAS COOKING

You ever heard of a Connecticut Chili Cookoff?    How about some Maine-Mex food?   If you hear mention of biscuits and gravy, do you think of South Dakota? 

Texas has a reputation for food.  Filling, homey, full of starches and fats, and hot enough to take out your tonsils.  You meet a Texan who really loves those chicken fried steaks, grits and gravy, and barbequed _____ (anything),  and you see a massive coronary just looking for a place to happen.

Except - and this is a BIG exception (literally) - a lot of Texans come from families that fought hard just to get there, survived frontier life, and got through winters without eating their seed corn.  That, darlins', is your story - and why, as a member of this family, you have probably fought to keep the weight off all your life.

I asked a doctor how it was possible for great-grandma to live to 94 while being 50 pounds overweight, and grandma made it to 89 on a diet all her life, and I am now pushing 80 and over 250 pounds.  From the family pictures, it looks like I am not alone either.  The answer is simple:  we are the descendants of the survivors:  our natural tendency is to put on weight in the summers and then survive near-starvation winters.  Out of the 12 siblings of great-grandma, less than half survived.  Our survivor bodies are built to store food just like hibernating bears.

It also means that, through the generations, our bodies have adapted to carry more than average weight without our blood pressure going up, our arteries filling with plaque, and our bones being unable to carry the load.

So, break out the pecan pie with the homemade frozen custard made on the back porch while the kids play in the lawn sprinkler,  lay out the picnic table with the potato salad, deviled eggs, fried chicken, cornbread (made with cracklins), and a pot of boracho beans and enjoy!

Grandma was the one who handed down most of the recipes used in this family today.  My favorite story about Grandma's cooking was the "Chicken Napoleon".  We were poor and one chicken had to stretch to make at least 3 meals for the 5 of us.  So, first dinner,  Lela May got a thigh, I got the drumstick, Great-grandma got a piece of a breast, and Dodie got a wing.  The next dinner, same thing.  Then, on the third night, Grandma made "Chicken Napoleon":  she took the neck, back, wing tips, and skin and boiled them until every shred of that chicken had fallen off the bones and the fatty skin had turned into a very savory smelling broth.  She would then throw in a bunch of dumplings (think of biscuits that are boiled in broth instead of baked).  It got that name because it was all bony parts.

Another one of Grandma's theories was that animals were smart enough to eat organ meats first and muscle last.  So we got stuffed with pork liver, brains, heart, etc.  or as Grandma said, "We used every part of that pig except the squeal".  We even ate javelinas (wild pigs) whenever Uncle Paul and the Major went hunting.  In addition, it is was wild and edible, it was shot, brought home and butchered, and shared with the rest of the family.

They would also skin whatever they shot and those skins became mocassins to wear to school.  The feed bags that the food for the hogs came in became yardage to make skirts and tops.  And nothing was ever thrown away if there was a way to use any part of it to make something else.

Now, anyone who gets misty-eyed over the "good old days" and "family values" didn't have to actually live through it!  See how much your family likes sitting down to a dinner of scrambled brains and eggs, dried lima beans (soaked and slow cooked), and mustard greens.  THAT was Texas life in the Depression era.

One thing that was for sure, however, was that even old shoe soles would taste good if barbequed.  No, we never got that poor, but some strange things got thrown on the fire in those days.  Rabbit was a real treat especially if potatoes were roasted in the coals while the rabbits cooked.  And I noticed that coons and possums were getting scarce in our area.  The uncles (who were teens at the time) were taken out at night by my Dad to go 'varmint hunting', and I could hear the dogs baying when they had run one up a tree.

Some interesting fruits were standard fare, but never seen in a grocery store.  Cumquats made great preserves.  And I used to shoot the prickly pears off the cactus using my .22.  Sounds like fun?  Try shooting that skinny neck of the prickly pear to separate it from the cactus!  Tooks me some time to get to the point where I could get enough of them whole to be worth taking home to share.  The Mexicans also taught us to take the cactus leaves (large oval green 'leaves' that were about a half to three-quarters of an inch thick), burn the spines off, peel them, split them open like a clam shell, and stuff them with goodies.  Then roast them on the fire.  Nopalitos.  Show me a Mexican restaurant that serves those and I will be there!

Writing this made me hungry.  Time for some sweet tea, some tamales with pico de gallo on 'em, and some of my truly fine guacamole.