Week 5 – 52 Ancestors 52 Week Blog: Heirloom Recipes..

Week 5: Feb. 1, 2014

Cover Ga Backroads

My story Heirloom Recipes was published in the Spring 2005 issue. My first written paid article!

Heirloom Recipes – Family History comes in many forms.

Take a walk with me down memory lane – back in your grandmother’s kitchen. Remember the comfort foods she cooked for you. They were prepared with a little of this and a little of that – no paper recipes – and came out mouth watering every time. Whether you call them old-timey, heirloom, or just the family recipe, if you don’t record them on paper they will soon become a lost treasure.

As I prepared to write a family cookbook recently, I soon discovered that many of the family dishes I remembered when I was a young girl, were not in my recipe box. Those little boxes we have sitting on our kitchen counters were unknown to most of our grandmothers; handwritten recipes weren’t needed back then. My grandmother just knew how to cook – and cooked great Southern country food!

When I first asked my mother about recipes for some of Grandmamma’s cooking, her reply to me was, “my mother didn’t have any recipes and probably didn’t even know what a recipe was. She just knew how and what to put together to cook the family food – my Mama was a great cook.”

After tracing much of my family history from the small gold-mining town of Dahlonega, nestled at the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains in Lumpkin County, Ga., down to Greene County, Ga. where I was born, I discovered a new form of family history – the family cooking. All too often we pass the recipe and memories from one generation to the next by word of mouth; a process well meaning, but often becoming lost with each new generation.

My mother has always told me family stories about my Grandmamma Ola McKinley’s country cooking on their farm in Siloam, Greene Co., Ga. As I incorporated them into my family cookbook, “Cooking Memories”, I soon discovered that family history is much more than pedigree charts and information gleaned from library books. As you gather your family history and photographs, don’t overlook writing down the family recipes; they all blend together to form a true family history. For once memories and recipes are lost – they are gone forever!

Every family needs a storyteller, a caretaker of the family stories to pass down to the younger generations, and also someone to write those stories, memories and recipes of the family. My mother enjoyed telling the stories, while my love is writing them for preservation. When she talks, she always makes me feel like I was there, right alongside of her. I can almost smell the blackberry pie sitting on the kitchen table, taste Grandmamma’s famous Southern Jam Cake and I can almost lick the frosting off my fingers from one of her tea cakes with icing. From those cooking memories gathered from Mama’s stories – I feel more connected in knowing my grandmother.

As my mother talked about our Southern Foods, I discovered much about my grandmother I never knew and even learned that my Grandfather, Edgar McKinley, could cook a ‘mean’ pan of biscuits – when needed. It’s been the little things that I learned about them that truly brought them to life for me. I learned that Granddaddy liked strong coffee – Mama laughs at the strong part and said, “he liked it so strong that it could walk off the table by itself.” He always saved any extra coffee, and he and my mother would drink it cold, as they sat on the back stoop in the evening. Recently Mama saw me drinking ‘iced coffee’ and laughed saying, “you drink it just like my father did.” But the only difference is that I go to a coffee shop for my cold coffee!

I didn’t have the opportunity to truly know my Grandmother McKinley as well as I would have liked. But through the cooking memories, I now feel she has been brought to life and become more of a person to me, not just another name on a pedigree chart.

Grandmothers spent much time in their kitchens back then – no luxuries like we have today. The cooking was much more personal and what good cooking came out of those kitchens. Mama was always amazed how her mother always knew exactly how many logs to put in the wood stove to cook everything to perfection.

My Grandmother McKinley was a hard working woman. It was a vicious circle from morning till evening – and without any complaints. Her day began early in the morning before the family rose. She was the first one up making the family breakfast, then off to work in the field, back before noon to prepare lunch, then again to the field and finally back to the kitchen to cook supper. Work never stopped for her; sometimes she even went back to the field after supper. My mother still says today that she doesn’t know where her mother pulled all her strength to do all she did.

Every family in the South has a favorite biscuit recipe passed down in the family, and as I sit here writing about the family biscuit – my mouth waters for one. I have no memory of my grandmother’s biscuits, only what I’ve been told. And I’ve learned enough about my grandmother’s biscuits to almost make me feel as if I ate at her table back then. Grandmamma McKinley made sourdough biscuits – always saving a pinch of dough in a cup for the next batch. She had a special cup that held the dough in the cabinet for the next day’s biscuits. When company came for Sunday dinner my mother always worried about the adults eating all the biscuits, leaving her none, but of course Grandmamma always made extra.

My mother learned how to make biscuits by watching her mother – exactly how recipes were passed down back then. But it still took much practice, and even after watching my mother make biscuits, I’m still practicing. My biscuits aren’t bad, but they’re not Mama’s! It’s the feel of the dough in your hands that you have to learn – that’s why they didn’t need recipes. But me, I still need my recipe and measuring cups – most of the time. I’m thankful that my children have the knowledge and taste of knowing what a true Southern biscuit tastes like – their grandmother’s, my mother. And when we go home for a visit, the first thing they ask for is one of Angel’s biscuits; they have always called my mother by only one name – she’s their Angel.

Sunday dinner in the South was the best – bowls and bowls of fresh vegetables from the family farm. We only ate fresh, as both my grandparents were farmers. I cannot ever remember my mother opening a can of vegetables. They came with a price – my grandmother’s sat for hours on the front porch shelling beans and peas and shucking the many fresh ears of corn needed for Southern fried corn – my absolute favorite. And what work it is to cut the kernels off and scrape the cob for the milky juice needed for fresh cream-style corn. I loved when Granddaddy Bryan headed to the field with his worn-out leather satchel slung over his shoulder – I knew he was going to pick a ‘mess’ of corn for dinner.

A recipe that I hoped to include in my cookbook was my Grandmother Evelyn Bryan’s Sweet Potato Cobbler, but there was no recipe. I was told what ingredients went in and about how she prepared it, but I was left to devise my own recipe. Many of the foods I grew up with were not prepared from any type of written word, and I soon learned that most family recipes were not written down like we do today.

From knowing the about ingredients and remembering the taste, I soon began experimenting to develop a written recipe for my grandmother’s cobbler. I had memories of standing by her side many times as she made this simple Southern dish and when I closed my eyes I could see her preparing it. With those tools I was able to finally create that so-needed recipe. After many tries I finally had the taste I so remembered from my youth; a taste that reminded me of growing up Southern. Even though I now live in Connecticut, I will never forget my Southern roots, foods, and memories of “Growing up Southern.”

Grandmamma’s Sweet Potato Cobbler was a favorite of Granddaddy’s and mine – we could always count on one for dessert after Sunday dinner. Granddaddy Bryan grew many ‘taters so he had plenty for his favorite cobbler. They were kept in his ‘tater hill’ after they cured and dug out as needed. My grandfather was very particular about his cobbler – always buying cow butter from his brother. He would not use store bought butter in it. I dug up all his ‘taters one year when I was young – thinking I was helping him. I couldn’t understand why they had to be buried if you were going to use them!

Sunday dinner at my grandparent’s, Paul & Evelyn Bryan, was often eaten on the screened-in back porch of their home in Union Point, Greene County, Ga. I always scrambled to make sure I sat next to my grandfather. We were usually the first at the table waiting for that ice-filled glass of sweet tea, and if he put a slice of lemon in his –I did the same.

From the cooking memories I have written from my mother’s stories, I have more of a connection in understanding the cooks – my grandmothers. Writing my family cookbook brought me more family history on my grandparents than I ever imagined. I began to know them through my mother’s eyes, years before I was born – and more things than any book could ever tell me.

If you have the opportunity, take some time and record the family recipes because they truly are your family treasures. If you feel like heading into the kitchen to whip something up,  maybe you might want to try my Sweet Potato Cobbler.

sweet potato cobbler

Sweet Potato Cobbler

Sweet Potato Cobbler

5 – 6     medium sweet potatoes (9 x 13 pan)

1          cup sugar (+ more if needed)

Nutmeg  (optional – to your taste)

Cinnamon  (to your taste – I generally only use cinnamon)

1          stick butter

Pastry dough (or 1-2 boxes Pillsbury dairy dough)

2          cups (abt) boiling water

Peel sweet potatoes and slice thin, abt. 1/4-inch. Make pastry dough or use Pillsbury dough in dairy – which I use. Some cobblers have dough on bottom and some don’t – it’s your choice. I make it both ways. I use a 9 x 13 inch pan.

If using crust – add bottom crust to buttered pan. You can use a solid crust or make lattice strips. Lay sliced sweet potatoes on bottom crust. I put a thicker layer of potatoes in the bottom and also lay slices around the sides. Sprinkle with 1/3 of the sugar, 1/3 of the butter chipped up and spices if desired. I go light on the Nutmeg unless you like it more. I do sprinkle cinnamon but not heavy.

Cut strips of dough and lay lattice style over the potatoes. Add 2nd layer of sweet potatoes, 1/3-cup sugar and another 1/3 of the butter chipped up and another light sprinkle of cinnamon. Continue again for a 3rd layer in same way.

Pour boiling water over all (I pour slowly on the side so it goes to bottom and not all over everything) – fill up baking dish about half way with water – judge with the 2 cups. Lay another layer of dough on top – either lattice-style or whole with slits cut. Lightly sprinkle a little sugar and spices on top also – if desired.

Bake 350 oven for about 1 hour, until brown & bubbly and potatoes soft when checked with a knife. Don’t overcook to mush! Check several times to see if cobbler is too dry. If too dry, add a little more water as needed. Let sit a little before cutting (if you can) so the juices absorb.

Note: The directions can be cut down for a smaller cobbler. Works well cooked in a deep pie dish also.

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Responses to Week 5 – 52 Ancestors 52 Week Blog: Heirloom Recipes…

  1. pen4hire :
    Evelyn Smallwood Smith:

    We also spent many a day snapping, shelling and shucking. Mama, as I called her, kept little chunks of potato in her mashed potatoes and fatback in her beans. To my knowledge, there are no recipes from my grandmother’s kitchen.

    One of the funniest stories I can remember is a home economics class of mine in junior high. We had to prepare a meal with adult supervision and the adult was to write a report for my teacher. Mama decided to make hotcakes using what I called her fancy mixer. It was a stand mixer with glass bowls. She told me to be careful and not hit the beaters with the wooden spoon. Yes, I did hit the beaters and we had a big mess to clean up! No, she did not yell or scold me, she just said that was the reason. She then taught me how to pour the batter in the skillet and know when was the time to turn them. That was a fun day and I don’t recall any complaints about my hotcakes.

    Such wonderful memories that should have been written down but so many of us didn’t think about that while we were growing up.

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9 Responses to Week 5 – 52 Ancestors 52 Week Blog: Heirloom Recipes..

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  2. pen4hire says:

    Oh yum! I have to try your recipe
    You’re like me– haunted by ancestors in the kitchen. I wish I had paid more attention to my grandma’s food prep. I was too busy just eating! I try to catch a bit of my memory at Ancestors in Aprons.

  3. Evelyn Smallwood Smith says:

    I, too, wish I had spent more time paying attention to my grandmother’s methods, instead of just being in there with her. Try as I might, I cannot duplicate her biscuits. Grandmother Grace McKinley made the thinnest, flakiest, biscuits I’ve ever tasted. She never used a rolling pin but managed to smush that dough pretty thin, then used a glass to cut out the biscuits. Then she placed each on the baking sheet and pressed bacon grease atop each one. Once they were done, she would butter each one as she placed them in the basket, which she had placed a towel to cover them. I don’t recall my grandmother ever using a timer either. She just knew!

    We also spent many a day snapping, shelling and shucking. Mama, as I called her, kept little chunks of potato in her mashed potatoes and fatback in her beans. To my knowledge, there are no recipes from my grandmother’s kitchen.

    One of the funniest stories I can remember is a home economics class of mine in junior high. We had to prepare a meal with adult supervision and the adult was to write a report for my teacher. Mama decided to make hotcakes using what I called her fancy mixer. It was a stand mixer with glass bowls. She told me to be careful and not hit the beaters with the wooden spoon. Yes, I did hit the beaters and we had a big mess to clean up! No, she did not yell or scold me, she just said that was the reason. She then taught me how to pour the batter in the skillet and know when was the time to turn them. That was a fun day and I don’t recall any complaints about my hotcakes.

    Such wonderful memories that should have been written down but so many of us didn’t think about that while we were growing up.

  4. Thanks for your cooking memories Evelyn. I wish I had more cooking times in the kitchen with my mother and grandmothers, but I wasn’t interested at that time, like most kids.

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