Monday, May 4, 2020

"It's Better Eaten Off The Bone"

              A 3 pound chicken is in the dish, ready to be devoured. 5-4-2020 Perryton, TX
 

If I'm going to have to stay home I'm going to fry my own chicken like my mom taught me to do. I bought the whole fryer, cut it up to suite my own liking, and rolled it in flower, I had a large skillet of hot shortening that I laid each piece in and cooked it slowly instead of deep frying. This makes the chicken so good till even the bony pieces are fought over.


Today is my mothers birthday, May 4th. I miss her as much as ever. She left this world 28 years ago, and I have never stopped thinking of her daily. She was my sole adviser on almost everything. I grew up thinking I knew about as much as she did, because I was with her almost every day of my life till I married. I watched her go out in the yard catch a chicken, wring it's head off, and put it in a bucket of boiling water for a few seconds to loosen the feathers. At that time I joined into plucking the mass growth of those stinking things called feathers. Then it was time to have a big flame of fire going and hold the chicken over it until all the fuzz was gone. Then a big dishpan of cold water was waiting for the chicken to be put in, and cut up into cooking size pieces. I did all of that many times except wring off the heads. I helped prepare the frying pan, and turn the pieces every few minutes. I though I had as much talent as my mom when I got married and started doing things all by myself. I was so wrong. I have fried many of chickens over my married years, but somehow they do not taste as good as my moms. Same way with yeast bread. I made two loaves yesterday, and while I like the results, it isn't as good as my moms. That goes on with brown beans, and everything else I cook. It just does not taste as good as moms. But I am proud that I was raised on a farm, and learned the real western way of living.


Mom if you by any chance see this blog please know I love you. We did have some disagreements along the way, but I now know you were always right. My faults may have been different than yours, but I did have plenty. I am so thankful for all the times you helped me through some bad times. I wish I could repay you, but it's too late now. I've cried a lot since you left us, but hopefully some day I can see you again. You left me lots of good memories, and I have a lot to be thankful for having you as a mother. I am out living you, and I can't explain that, but I know it is for a reason. Mentally I am holding you in my arms now, “Lord let it become real someday soon.”


God Bless
Myrtle Jean Sharp

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