Blind Pig & The Acorn

January the 23 the 1870

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Several months ago, Peggy P. asked me if I'd be interested in reading a letter that had been handed down through her family. It seemed to have been written to folks who lived in my county near the town of Andrews. Peggy said reading W.C. Penland's letters reminded her of the letter in her possession. After reading it-several things in it also reminded me of W.C.-they seem to use the same phrasing-even though their letters were about totally different things. 

One thought I had after reading Peggy's letter-the writers of her letter and W.C. grew up in the same region (about a 45 minute drive by car today)-so was the phrasing used common for our area-or common throughout the entire US? Maybe one of you can answer that question.

The letter was written by Susan Lunsford and her husband, Mat Lunsford. Susan was Peggy's Great Great Grandmother's sister. It touches me on so many different levels-give it a read and see what you think:

January the 23 the 1870

 

Dear father and mother  i this evin seat my self to drop you a few lins to let you no that we are all well at present hopin my few lins will come safe to hand and find you all enjoyin the same blessin and to let you no that I have got a fine boy I call him Jousep Henry after his Granpap Pendergrass he was borned October the 4 1869.

 

Whet is 20 cents per bushel corn is 3 dollars a bushel we have got 69 bushels of corn. We have kild one hog that wade 3 hundred and 48 pounds at 18 teen months old an one we didn’t way and I got one to kill that will go about 2 hundred and fifty and got 18 hogs left  We have 2 cows one will have a calf in March the other I don’t know when we have settled down her to stay 2 years or longer if we want too but I git more and more dissatis fide ever day if I was back in ole north Carolina I never would say Mat less move again. tho we have plenty to do us this year and plenty more comin on for another year but what satisfaction is it to me if I ain’t satisfied and all that dissatisfides me is to want to see my old father an mother and can’t I want to see you all I want you all to writ as soon as you git this letter not one but all

 

Susan Lunsford

 

Margaret I want you to write to me one time if you pleas if you hant for got that that you ever had one sister called  Suzy. Nin and forn and rocksy and lasy all drop me a few lines I would take grate pleasur in readin a few lines from you all  tell Jissy Baldwin and Joy to write to me I will send pap and mother a stran of little francis hair I send the girls some scraps of our dresses but if you have forgot my name look at the top of the letter I will write you my name  in full I will close so no more at present only I remains your child till death I still remains you sister so good by to you all from Susan Leunsord to her ole father and mother to her sisters all so

 

A few words from Mat to let you no that I am well and well sadisfide and tryin to do the best I can suzy has got dissadisfide here lately she sez she would be sadisfide if she could sho nanny and pap her fine boy the resen I am satisfied I recken is am so much like the … ???...  Bill an his family is well we live about half mile apart we have rented land and both work to gether this year we have sod ten bushel of wheet and hay all it makes free of rent 30 achorks (acres) of lan to tend in corn four acres to tend in tobacco you might not think hard of me for not ritin no sooner for we was a while that we did not no wether we would go on or stay her as soon as we got our minds settled we had to build our cabins to move in too I thought it would be no use to rite till I got settle we have made a contract for 2 year I would like for sum of you to come and see me next fall I will send you a way bill to come by if you node the situation of the country you would be willing to leave north Carolina tomorrow. Susan hole study is on the friends that is left behind it is true I would like to see you all but my mane study is to do the best I can for my self and family I pass off the time at work through the day at nite I nurs my too baby for pleasure so I take up no time in idles I will close for this time so no more at present only remaining your son till death.  From M.M. Lunsford to his father and mother write soon and fail not.

 

What I liked about the letter:

 

*The similar phrases used by the Lunsfords and W.C.- "at present only remiaing your son till death", "I this evin seat my self to drop you a few lins to let you no that we are all well at present hopin my few lins will come safe to hand and find you all enjoyin the same blessin", and "I will close so no more at present only I remians your child till death"

 

*I love how Susan gives them a hard time about not writing her, calling them out by name, and even saying if they've forgot her name she'll write it at the top of the page. Sounds like she was a spit fire.

 

*Since we've been discussing hog slaughtering-I enjoyed her details about their hogs.

 

*I like the contrast between what she writes and what her husband writes. Through his words you can feel the determination that he is going to make it for his family-and if everyone knew how good it was there-they'd all come too.

 

*The letter was written on January 23rd-the way mail was then-I wonder how long it took for her folks to get it-could it have been an unexpected Valentine for them?

 

*My favorite part of the letter keeps running around in my head. Susan missed them but she mostly wished they could see her boy that she was so proud of. She tells them she will send a stran of little Francis's hair-is this another child they never seen or is it a child she had before they left NC? Makes me wonder if they passed that little strand of hair around and talked of how they missed little Francis-of how there was a fine baby boy named Jousep Henry-who they  might not ever see but would love from afar.

 

What did you like?

 

Tipper

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Canning Sausage

I love my Ball Blue Book of Preserving-its full of canning and preserving advice-on everything from blackberries to clams. This is what the book has to say about canning Pork Sausage:

"Shape ground pork in to patties or 3 to 4 inch links. Cook until lightly browned. Drain. Pack hot sausage into hot jars, leaving 1-inch headspace. Ladle hot broth over sausage, leaving 1-inch headspace. Remove air bubbles. Adjust two-piece caps. Process pints 1 hour and 15 minutes, quarts 1 hour and 30 minutes, at 10 pounds pressure in a steam-pressure canner."

Pretty simple instructions for anyone who has ever used a pressure canner.

Granny never canned any kind of meat when I was growing up-she still doesn't-choosing instead to freeze any fresh meat that come her and Pap's way. Not long after I married The Deer Hunter I began hearing stories of the entire Pressley family coming together during hog slaughtering time-the men doing the slaughtering and the women inside the house preparing the meat for preservation. From the beginning I was interested in the sausage part-I'd ask "you mean you canned sausage? But how?" Even though they detailed the process they used to me more than once over the years I just couldn't fathom how it would really work. Since there was no longer anyone in the family slaughtering hogs, there wasn't a chance for me to see the process either.

Some of you may remember my Mountain Folk interview with Jackie Cole last summer. Her family still slaughters hogs each fall-and as she told me the details of handling the meat, I realized her method of canning sausage was the same one the Pressleys used. As I questioned her closer she finally gave me a jar of canned sausage, told me to take it home, cook it, and see for myself. When I opened the jar a few weeks later I enjoyed the best sausage I had ever eaten. It was so much better than frozen-and almost as good as fresh. Since then I've been given jars by other folks who can their sausage in the same manner-and its all been good-not just good but outstanding-however there is just one problem-they don't pressure cook it.

This is the method they use:

 

First they sterilize their jars, lids, and rings-keeping their jars hot.

Pat out their sausage and brown it on both sides.

Place as many pieces of hot sausage as they want for a meal in a hot jar.

Pour 1 to 2 inches of the hot sausage grease/fat into the jar. Attach the lid and ring tightly-turn the jar upside down.

After sitting over night-the jar looks like this.

They store the sausage upside down until they're ready to open a jar to eat. Placing the pieces in a pan they fry them for a few minutes to warm through-using the excess grease to make gravy just like you would with fresh sausage.

I've been studying this method for almost a year. Here are some of my thoughts:

• How could the sausage keep like this-how does it not spoil since it wasn't canned in a pressure cooker?
• Does the grease protect it somehow?
• I've read some toxins are odorless and tasteless-is the sausage spoiled and they just don't know it?
• In the last year-I've found dozens of folks from western NC who can their sausage like this. Even the lady I buy sausage from said she did-and her mother did as well. Could it be folks who are used to eating it are used to eating it-you know like when you travel to another country you may get an upset stomach because of the different strains of bacteria that are present in the food and water?
• Have all the folks who use this method just been lucky for the years they've been canning it like this?
• If I followed all the directions of my canning book-I'd water bath my pickles and jelly-which I don't-so is the sausage kinda like that?
• Wouldn't you get sick easier from meat than from jelly or pickles?

As you can see I've mostly went around in circles on this one. One thing I do know-folks who were taught this method by their elders-and have used it for the last 40 years aren't about to change their minds on the subject. And although, I'm not advising anyone to use the method-I sure won't be turning down any jars that are waved under my nose.

What I want to know is what do you think? Did your parents or grandparents can sausage like this? Do you think all the folks that use the method are just lucky dogs and their day of dying from botulism is coming? If you'd always used this method with no adverse consequences would you change cause the Ball canning book told you too?

Tipper 

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Firewood

 

Firewood

By Keith Jones

 

With central heating or even today’s highly-efficient wood heaters, few people now appreciate the sheer volume of wood it took to keep a pioneer mountain household in operation, and the often-backbreaking labor needed to procure it. My granddad Dyer’s mountain farm in Choestoe district of Union County, Georgia, had an open fireplace in the living room, an upright wood heater in the large “new” bedroom he added to his original house, and a hybrid wood-burning stove in the kitchen. The stove had two eyes that worked off electricity, similar to today’s hot plate freestanding eyes, but Granddad never cooked on them. He left that to the kids, and continued to cook on his old reliable iron cooktop and oven.

 

Granddad’s farm was a bit over 150 acres, and about a third or half of it was in timber. I realize now that the natural timber growth on this tract of land was roughly equal to, or slightly in excess of the amount of wood burned to keep the house warm, food cooked, and the farm running. So he was practicing sustainable growth before the term was invented.

 

I first became aware of how much wood it took to supply these three heat sources as a small child, visiting at Granddad’s with the uncle and aunts who were about my own age. Blueford, one of two older uncles, was helping cut, split, and stack firewood. I was just large enough to carry one or two sticks of wood and place them within easy reach of the fireplace. I remember how you’d stand on icy winter nights with your back to the fire while your face froze, then turn around and warm your front while your back froze. Sometimes we’d put some popcorn in a little wire basket on a stick and pop it over the wood coals. No microwave popcorn could ever taste as good as that “smoked” variety.

 

Before long, I was large enough to begin helping cut wood myself. Usually my Uncle Troy, a year younger than me, and I would have this assignment. Granddad, Uncle Blueford, or Uncle Gene (the other older uncle) would have taken the tractor up into the woods after it was cool enough for the sap to have come down. They’d cut several oaks or hickories, and a pine or two, then drag the trees down to the area where we processed them. Side limbs would have been trimmed off to facilitate dragging the main trunk, but sometimes limbs that were parallel to the main trunk or a fork would be left in place. Those limbs that were large enough to provide firewood for the kitchen stove, heater, or kindling for the fireplace were by no means left in the woods. They were cut to length, gathered up into a wagon, and brought to be stacked onto the wood piles that graced the slight hill to the south of Granddad’s homeplace.

 

Once the trees had been drug from the woods to the woodlot, Troy and I would begin wrestling the logs up onto the pivoting shelf attached to the circular saw. This contraption consisted of a circular saw about 30” to 40” in diameter, set into a metal frame, with a large flat pulley wheel on the other end of the shaft. The pivoting shelf allowed the logs to be shoved over against the cutting saw to be cut to length. I think we sometimes cut logs as much as 18-20” in diameter on this machine. The power was supplied by a rubber belt similar to a conveyor belt that was driven by an industrial 220-volt motor Granddad had scrounged somewhere. The motor had its own little tin-roofed shelter to keep off the rain. To the best of my recollection, that same belt was used to transfer power from the back wheel of an idling jacked-up Chevy pickup truck to the old cane grinder that had formerly been driven by mule or ox-power when sorghum syrup was being produced.

 

People today would probably be charged with child endangerment if they let 12 or 13-year-old boys handle the circular saw like Troy and I did, but we thought nothing of it, except warning each other to be careful. Logs were cut into three different lengths, depending on their future use. 24” length logs, usually the biggest diameters, were destined for the open fireplace after splitting and seasoning. Logs for the heater were somewhat shorter. Smallest of all were the fat lighter pine used for kindling and the kitchen stove. Sometimes old corncobs were used in kitchen stoves and small heaters, but this is something I remember from other relatives’ homes, not Granddad’s.

 

After the logs were cut to length, or if additional help was available while that was being done, most of the wood had to be split at least once. The larger “drums” of wood had to be split into four to six pieces of firewood. This was accomplished with either an ax, or a wedge and sledge. I really hated to try to split green wood, since sometimes it simply refused to split. Wood from tree forks is also notoriously hard to split properly. But there’s nothing like the satisfying “chunk” of a log splitting perfectly at the first blow of the ax.

 

Hardwoods were the main fuel for the fireplace and heater. They produced a lot of ash, which would be processed by draining water through them to yield lye, to be combined with leftover cooking fat to produce lye soap. Pine tended to produce less ash, but more tar and creosote buildup in stovepipes and chimneys. The most excited I ever saw my grandfather was when the main chimney caught on fire with a huge roar. He was right to be agitated, since many house fires began with just such a scenario. In the attic, where we went to check if the fire was endangering the house or not, you could see the roaring flames through cracks in the mud chinking. The next summer after this fire, Granddad tore down his old red-clay-mud chinked chimney, and had his stepson Lloyd to rebuild the chimney with the same rocks, but with modern mortar as chinking. Lloyd was well-known in the community for his ability to construct chimneys that “drew” well and didn’t smoke up the house. That chimney lasted as long as the house did.

 

Syrup making was a main cash-producer on the Dyer farm. So limbs that other folks would have cut up into stovewood, at Granddad’s were left longer—about 8 or so feet in length—so that they could be fed into the firebox under the evaporator pan at the syrup mill. Troy and I again did the honors, keeping the fire stoked and at just the right temperature, at Granddad’s or Blueford’s direction. (Uncle Gene usually was tending his own syrup mill during my growing-up years.)

 

In addition to the wood used to heat the house and make syrup, firewood was needed for cooking all year long. The fireplace usually had at least a small fire in it for nine or ten months a year, and the kitchen stove had a fire every single day. When it was time to cure hams or smoke other meats, fuel was needed for the smokehouse, too. And if a farmer dabbled in blacksmith work, he needed a supply of charcoal, which was produced by stacking large amounts of logs into a mound shape, covering the whole thing with dirt except for a tiny chimney hole, and burning a small fire in the middle until all the wood turned to charcoal. This was such a specialized skill that not every farmer tried it. I never saw it done, but heard of families who made this their specialty, just as others ran sawmills or gristmills, or ‘tended store’ in addition to their farming.

 

All in all, Granddad’s farm consumed several full cords of wood each year. Today, people use chainsaws and hydraulic wood splitters. We had the circular saw, a large step up from the crosscut saws my Dad and Granddad had to use many years ago. But even today, producing firewood is an arduous task. So when the fellow comes with the pickup truck load of split, seasoned oak and hickory, don’t begrudge him the $50 or $75 or even $100. And as you enjoy the warmth from your Buck stove or Warm Morning, give a thought or two to how that wood came to be there for you.

 

by Keith Jones

 

Hope you enjoyed Keith's guest post-I know I did.

 

Tipper

 

p.s. The winner of Peggy Poe Stern's book is...

 

 

Pat in East Tn! Thank you-to all who entered the giveaway.

 

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Burning Firewood

The Farmer's Almanac predicted this would be a harsh winter-and so far it seems they've been right. Parts of the country barely get dug out before the next winter storm arrives on their doorstep.

We've lived in our house a little over 13 years. In the beginning, we heated with a combination of a kerosene monitor heater upstairs and a wood stove downstairs. After we'd been here several years and were able to afford a heat pump, The Deer Hunter helped one of his buddies install one. Mostly we wanted the pump for the air conditioning it could provide during the summer months, however when heating oil began to rise to unheard of prices it became cheaper to use the heat pump for heat and forgo the monitor heater.

Over the years, we got slack about using the wood stove in the basement. After all-unless you buy the wood-it takes much effort and time to lay in a supply of wood for the winter. It only took the economic downturn to light the proverbial fire under The Deer Hunter to get him back to laying in that supply of wood. For the past 2 winters we've returned to using the wood stove in the basement for heat-makes us both wonder why in the world we let it sit cold for those few years.

Our stove is a dandy-it came from Papaw Tony's basement-it was there when Papaw and The Deer Hunter moved in during the late 80's. It was handmade by a talented craftsman.

The stove heats wonderfully-and after The Deer Hunter banks the fire and turns the dampers down-it always holds coals for the next morning.

Everyone has preferences when it comes to what kind of wood they like to burn. I'm sure it makes a difference depending on where you live as well. The Deer Hunter likes good seasoned oak and locust the best. But will mix in other woods-like maple and popular. The one he doesn't like to use much-is pine-cause it is more likely to build up creosote in your chimney.

My favorite thing about using the wood stove: we have wood floors and a type of tile in the bathrooms-I love that it heats the floors from below-and my piggies have a warm floor to walk on.

Do you burn wood?

Tipper

p.s. Check back in a few days to read a great guest post by Keith Jones-Firewood.

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The Wild Man of Cataloochee

 
                    Early 80's Cataloochee

Ever heard of The Wild Man of Cataloochee? His real name was Arley Phillips. Arley was a legend in Haywood County, NC and beyond. He died almost 2 weeks ago-he was 77 years old.

Quote from article featured in The Mountaineer, written by Vicki Hyatt:

Phillips lived in the White Oak community under conditions seldom found in today’s world. His  primitive home had no running water or electricity and is unchanged — except for wear and tear — from the time it became the family home. The Phillips were one of many forced to relocate when the Great Smoky Mountains National Park was formed. There is no insulation in the house and the construction of yesteryear allows plenty of places for outside air to circulate in both winter and summer.  

In years past, Arley frequented the Cataloochee area of the park. As folks saw him slip through the woods or look for food in the dumpsters-they nicknamed him The Wild Man of Cataloochee.

The Deer Hunter and Papaw Tony spent many days and nights in the Cataloochee section of the park. It was their favorite place for camping, horse riding, and fishing. The Deer Hunter was always on the look out for The Wild Man, over the years he saw him several times. Once The Deer Hunter was trout fishing-as he looked up The Wild Man crossed the river just a few feet ahead of him-he never spoke just looked at The Deer Hunter and kept going.

Arley's nephew, neighbors and a few other folks did befriend him-leaving him food and other items he needed-checking on him every once in a while to make sure he was o.k.

By the time I met The Deer Hunter and Papaw Tony, their days of camping at Cataloochee were over. You had to reserve a place to camp-I suppose you still do. One day Papaw got a phone call that he wouldn't be able to camp the coming weekend-even though he'd had it reserved for quite some time. Seems someone more influential than Papaw and his horse riding buddies had rented the entire park. Papaw decided a little complaining was necessary-but it was to no avail. Then he decided he'd rent the entire park himself-however it seemed he wasn't allowed too. After Papaw contacted a congressman about the issue-the welcome mat was never put out for Papaw and The Deer Hunter again-actually that's an understatement. It was more like-come if you want too-and we'll make sure we find every fraction of the law you violate no matter how small it is. During one of the last trips they made to Cataloochee-there were 21 flat tires among their group of horse riders.

Years ago The Deer Hunter told me about The Wild Man-I was intrigued from the beginning-what did he eat? Did he talk to anyone? Did he have a house? Did he get lonely? Seems kinda sad that all my questions were answered through the death of Arley Phillips.

Ever heard of The Wild Man of Cataloochee?

To read the entire article about Arley Phillips in The Mountaineer click here.

Tipper

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Humor At Hog Slaughtering Time

In the first post about hog slaughtering-I shared my funny story of being chased home by 2 big pigs. In Keith Jones' guest post Hog Killin Day, he described a comical incident about his Uncle Blueford. After that-it seemed I kept hearing funny stories related to hog slaughtering.

One of the first I heard centered around those 2 young men in the foreground of the photo above. Papaw Tony and his brother, Uncle Sam. The story also highlights 2 of the dangers that accompanied slaughtering day-boiling water and sharp knives.

Tony and Sam were both students at Haywood Community College. Sam had stayed home from school to catch up on homework, and their father, James, was going to slaughter a hog.

To aide in removing hair from the hog-it was common for folks to have a barrel buried in the ground at a slight angle. The barrel would be filled with boiling water-the pig would be 'dipped' into the water to scald the hair off and clean the hog as well. Although James had folks helping with the slaughtering, they called Sam out to help with dipping the hog. It had started to rain, and as they were handling the hog, Sam slipped and his foot went into the scalding barrel. As they tried to pull Sam's sock off to see how bad he was burned-the skin came with it. Pig slaughtering was halted and a trip to the hospital was soon under way.

After returning from the hospital, it was decided that Tony should be called home to help finish the slaughtering job. When Tony arrived the process continued. As the hog hung from a tree, Tony held the hog open for James to clean out the innards. During the gutting-James' knife slipped and cut Tony's finger to the bone. Feeling horrible I'm sure-James said "come on and lets go down to the hospital and get it sewed up." Thinking of Sam's trip to the doc earlier in the day, Tony refused saying "I'm not going to the same Doctor for the same hog!" Tony fashioned a splint to hold the wound together. Both he and Sam recovered completely from their accidents-but that would be a hog killing day that no one in the family ever forgot.

Many of you left comments about becoming attached to hogs-only to have to part with them once slaughtering time arrived. The Deer Hunter had a similar experience.

His Papaw James bought 2 hogs to fatten up and slaughter for meat. From the beginning The Deer Hunter was warned not to become attached to them. From the beginning-he didn't heed the warning. Ever chance he got he headed for the pig lot. Feeding the 2 pigs, petting them-in other words they become his best friends. I suppose the grown ups knew he would be upset when slaughtering day arrived-but after all they had warned him. On the big day-The Deer Hunter had a plan to stop them. He gathered a good supply of rocks and hid within easy throwing distance. As the men walked down to the lot-he began his rock attack. Not only did his plan fail-he said it was without a doubt the worst whipping he ever got.

I'll leave you with one more funny story about hogs. It's from Teresa in KY:

We were at my uncle's house. He had 3 boys, each about our ages to match me and my sister and brother. When we'd get together with them, there was usually some mischief. We went out to the pen to see the piglets. Then someone decided to separate the momma sow from the babies so we could play with the little ones. All I remember was standing in the pen with a branch and trying to get between the momma and her babies. She turned and charged at me. She'd had enough!!! The next thing I knew, I was riding a sow, backwards, being jarred half to death as she trotted full-speed to the electric fence line, determined to get me, the enemy, out of her pen. I landed right across that weed-eater fence and it cut some good welts across both knee-caps. I went crying to the house and once the grown-ups realized how it happened, that was the end of our fun for the day. But I can't help but smile at the vision of a 9-year-old girl riding a sow backwards at full speed, with my teeth rattling in my head. --teresa in ky
 

If you've got a funny story to add-please leave me a comment.

Tipper

p.s. A few of you have inquired about the radio broadcasts-we're figuring out how to upload portions of Paul and Pap's. You can hear mine where it's archived over at Salt Creek Life (look in the top right hand corner of the Salt Creek Life page). There was a little technical difficulty during the first few minutes and during the trivia questions-but the rest is great. Also-since the trivia/prize portion of the show didn't work out-Paul Ward is going to try a different route-read about it here. He's got some great prizes and all you have to do is answer a question about the Blind Pig & The Acorn to win them-so check it out.

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Wild Hogs

 

Photo from:  Hogsed Sportswear  

In many areas of the US wild hog populations are on the rise. The practice of folks keeping domesticated pigs has dwindled to the point-that in most areas wild hogs out number domesticated pigs-unless of course you happen to live near a commercial pig farm.

In the last 10 years or so, the wild hog population in my area has increased significantly. All one has to do is take a walk up the mountain to see the destruction they leave in their wake.

In the early 1900s a hunting preserve was established in Graham County, NC. The preserve was stocked with big game animals. None of the introduced species really took to their new surroundings but one-the Russian Boar. The boar introduced to Graham County was brought to Murphy, NC by railroad car then transported by ox carts to Graham County. Over the years the boars multiplied and as they escaped the preserve they mixed with local domestic hogs. Today Graham County has the largest wild hog population in the state of NC.

The wild boars introduced to our area-are considered an invasive species. Wild hogs have no predator except man, begin to breed a a very early age, and can produce up to 10 piglets a litter-you can see why their population is increasing at such a fast pace.

The Smokey Mountain National Park system began trying to eradicate wild hogs during the late 50s and they continue trying today. When the girls and I walked through history near Purchase Knob in Haywood County, NC, we saw evidence of wild hog activity. Our guide pointed out a large portion of disturbed ground-it looked as if someone had plowed the area for a garden-she said the damage was done the previous night by wild hogs. The park uses traps (like the one above) to aide in the wild hog removal. After a hog is caught-it is shot and the meat is placed deep in the forest. Our guide said their hope was to train bear to become accustomed to eating wild hog meat to the point of hunting the hogs themselves.

Wild hogs are notorious for destroying the woods and if they ever get close to your garden-you can forget about it-they can wipe out a large garden in a matter of minutes. They've also been known to reek havoc on fence lines.

There is a large wild hog population in North Georgia where The Deer Hunter hunts. Last deer season he had a close encounter with wild hogs. It was before daylight and he was walking in to his deer stand. Before he realized it-he had walked right in the middle of a group of wild hogs. He was almost to his tree-as he ran the rest of the way and jumped in the stand-he said the hogs sounded like a group of miniature horses chasing him. He could hear their hooves on the hard packed ground. We still tease him about being chased by miniature horses.

Got wild hogs in your area?

Tipper

p.s. To read more about wild hogs in WNC check out Digital Heritage and The Wild Boar In North Carolina (I used both sites for this post)

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Rendering Lard

For years, Pap has bemoaned the fact that food doesn't taste as good as it did when he was a child. While there are a multitude of reasons for the difference in taste-Pap decided the lard used to season or cook food with is at the top of the list. A few years back, Granny and Pap decided to make their own lard and see if it made a difference in the taste of their food-and they've been rendering their own lard ever since.

 

They get their hog fat from a local man who raises hogs. Typically the fat comes in big hunks-but this year for what ever reason the hunks had been run through a sausage grinder and came in big bags like you see above. 

 

While Pap cooks (renders) the fat...

Granny sterilizes jars, rings, and taps.

Then they drain the pieces of meat (cracklins) out of the liquid lard and

pour the hot lard into the sterilized jars. After they attach the lid and ring to the jar-they sit it on the table to cool. Putting the hot liquid in the hot jar causes the lid to seal as the jar cools. Pap says when he was a child they would sometimes put rendered lard into large crocks and it kept well that way too.

This is what the lard looks like once it's cooled-Granny says you know it's good lard if it's pretty and white. Granny and Pap use the lard in the same way you would shortening-to fry taters, season beans, make cornbread, biscuits, etc.

On one hand I think-they are using pure lard! But on the other hand I think they are using pure lard-it is pure. Have you ever read the back of a can of shortening-who knows what all those big chemical sounding names are.

Pap said one of his heart docs out at the VA hospital told him the lard they render themselves is much better for his heart than the kind you buy in the store-I believe the doc do you?

Tipper

p.s. I'd like to welcome any new readers who have arrived via David Brose's radio show-hope you enjoy your visit-and drop back by often.

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Turn Your Radio On

Are you a radio listener? If Chatter, Chitter, or The Deer Hunter are in my car-the radio is on and turned to some honky tonk country station. But if I'm alone, I'm listening to a cd-and if I do turn the radio on-it's usually to a news talk station.

Back in the day, as a teenager, I listened to the radio a lot-remember Casey Kasem's weekly top 40? I looked forward to the countdown all week and rarely missed it. If I was at home-I'd lay on the bed and listen to see who hit number one or if I was at Granny Gazzie's little house by the highway, my cousins and I would listen to see if our favorite song made it to the top of the charts.

This week my house has been all about the radio-strange for someone who seldom listens to it.

First up: Paul and Pap were invited to perform live on David Brose's radio show this coming Saturday. If you'd like to listen you can-the radio station streams live over the net. Go to: WYHG  (click on WYHG and you'll see Listen Live in blue at top right of page-click that to listen) David's show "The Mountain Valley Homecoming" airs from 12:00 till 2:00pm. Paul and Pap will perform during the first hour of the show from 12-1pm. (the times mentioned are eastern standard time-so depending on where you live you may have to convert to your time zone)

Second: I was invited to be a guest on a live radio show this Sunday by Paul Ward of Saltcreek Life. Paul's promo sums it up better than I can: Tipper from "Blind Pig And The Acorn" blog joins me as co-host for a call in trivia show. We will cover her site, Appalachian heritage, and give away some prizes. Be ready to call in! The Salt Creek Life radio show starts at 6pm central time. To listen and for more details about the show go too: http://www.blogtalkradio.com/paulsw

Third: Last night I listened to the radio as one of those cousins from Granny Gazzie's did his job. Clint is anchor for the Malone Sports Network broadcast team. Last night it was all about girls basketball. Clint did such a great job announcing-I felt like I was right there on the court-wincing at the fouls, jumping to my feet with the crowd and urging my team on to win.

If you have time this weekend I hope you'll listen in to David Brose's show-I know Pap and Paul will do a great job. I also hope you'll listen to Paul Ward's great show-who knows how good I'll do-but if nothing else I'm sure the contrast between my Appalachian accent and Paul's mid-west one will be interesting.

So are you a radio listener?

Tipper

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Hog Killin Day

Hog Killin Day by Keith Jones

When it starts to get cold in the fall, the old-timers would always say, "Getting to be about hog-killin time." This was indeed a memorable time of the year. Many families slaughtered at least one if not two or three hogs to provide meat, lard, bristles for brushes, and more. I've always heard the expression used, "They just had a real hog-killin time!" by which it was usually meant that they had enjoyed a great frolic. But hog killin also involved a lot of work.

The hogs would have been fattened all year, being fed regular feed like dried corn, plus buckets of 'slop' (leftover food from dinner plates, sour milk, excess cooking grease, etc.). Some farmers also would feed the hogs the 'skims' from the syrup making process that immediately preceded or overlapped with hog killin time. Others would use the skims to sweeten up the mash for moonshine, but that's another story for another time.

Usually families would join together and 'make the rounds' over several days, doing the same chores at several adjacent farms. It took a lot of dishpans, pots, canning jars, etc. to get everything done.

My uncle Blueford Dyer was the designated person at Granddad's to do the actual killing of the hog. He had a 22 rifle that he usually used. He'd put a little fresh corn in the trough to attract the chosen 'victim', and knew the exact spot on the pig's snout to lay the barrel against so that the bullet went through the hog's sinus cavities without breaking much bone, and entered the spinal cord, which usually instantly dispatched the pig. Not only mercy was involved in this method. "Everything but the squeal" was used from a hog carcass, and the brains were considered a delicacy. My granddad always had scrambled eggs and hog brains for supper on the evening of a hog killin. But one year, Uncle Blueford put the gun against the pig's snout, pulled the trigger, and after the shot, the pig just shook its head and went on eating. The 22 rifle short cartridge hadn't had enough power to break through the hog's snout! So Uncle Blueford got a 22 long rifle shell and fired it-same result. Just a little trickle of blood, and you could see the back end of the bullet embedded in the bone of the hog's snout. Blueford got mad! He went to his truck and pulled out his 30-30 deer rifle. Needless to say, granddad didn't get any brains to eat for supper that year. They were too full of bone fragments.

Once the hog had been killed, it's throat was quickly slit and the blood drained. Some people caught this blood for use in sausage (remember, I said everything was used but the squeal). The hog was suspended by its back legs and hoisted up. The body would have been rinsed off somewhat, and dipped down into a barrel of boiling water to loosen the bristles from the skin. The abdomen would be slit open and all the organs and intestines removed. The intestines were chitterlings, but I never heard them called anything but chitlins until I was in college. After rinsing and washing out several times, the chitlins were cut up into small pieces and fried to eat. Sometimes people would use some of the cleaned intestines for sausage casings. The liver, lights (lungs), kidneys, and other organs were use for meat too.

Supposedly the large McEver Meat Packing Company near Talmo, GA was started because Mrs. McEver had anemia and needed to eat liver every day. The only liver available was hog liver, and that left the rest of the carcass to be disposed of, Mr. McEver sold the meat door-to-door until his company got established.

The meat was now cut up into tenderloins, loins, hams, shoulders (sometimes called picnic hams), etc. The meat from the head was used to make souse. Every bit of fat was saved and cooked down into lard, which was the farmers' shortening for use in bread, frying, etc. The cracklins (bits of skin that cooked up from rendering the lard) would be saved to flavor cornbread. The hams and other cuts of meat would be seasoned and placed in the smokehouse for preservation. Bits of meat from all over the carcass were dumped together and ground into sausage. My granddad's sausage recipe was a little bit hot. He put hot, fried sausage balls in sterilized hot quart mason jars, and preserved them by pouring hot lard over the sausage to cover them. When those were fried up, a little flour, pepper, salt and milk were added to the leftover grease to make sawmill gravy. Redeye gravy was made by adding water to the pan in which cured country hams had been cooked. 

At supper after a long day of helping with all the tasks of the hog killin, there would be a big meal. Usually the main course was fried tenderloin, with scrambled eggs and 'cat-head' biscuits (called that because of their size). Of course, there was cracklin cornbread and sawmill gravy too. And after eating what you thought was your fill, and sopping up the last of the gravy from your tin plate, somehow you'd always find room to put a big hunk of homemade butter in the middle of the plate, pour on sorghum syrup, mix it up and sop THAT with a couple more catheads.

You'd be 'wore out' at the end of such a day, but you'd be full, happy, and would sleep the sleep of those who've done a REAL day's work.

By Keith Jones

Hope you enjoyed Keith's memories of hog killin day as much as I did. If you did-leave him a comment and I'll make sure he reads it.

Tipper

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