The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1915-10-27
ABOUT PoT-LIckER.
(By Savoyard.)

~--e
New York is nearly as hopeless, ant
:Chicago knows nothing about it. AS
pot-licker is an invention of Ken
lucky and Tennessee, it is surprising
that Tom Wallace of Louisville calls
it the broth of a pot of hogs jowl and
:turnip sallet; but then Tom is from
the Bluegrass county of Shelby, and
pot-licker is native of the Penny
rile. and there it is cooked and
served in it's granduer, dish fit for
high Olympus when Jupiter has foi
guests Jason's mighty crew.
The base of genuine pot-licker is
cabbage, or turnip, and properly pre-
pared as only the old negro cook Of
that elder and better day could make
it. it was better than blackeye pes
soup and equal to iowl and greens
l will now tell you about real pot
ticker. a luxury that has occasioned
many an elegant and high-toned Ken
tuckian and Tennesseean to commit
the sin of gluttony.
If we are to believe all we read in
the "Expedition OF Humphrey Clink-
er," and l accept/every line of. that
immortal classic, they grow turnips
in the soil of Scotland that are more
like fruit than vegetable, so sweet
they are. Just as ine turnip is
grown in Barren county, Kentucky, if
the farmer knows his business, as
many of them do. In the first quarter
of the nineteenth century the early
settlers of that region wore out their
fertile fields by growing corn and
tobacco. Lands were cheap, and
vast areas were abandoned to broom
sedge, thrown out for stray live
stock to Craze upon. After years of
neglect patches of blackberry briars
would grow here and there and these
restored the fertility of the soil on
(which sprang up bluegrass-not the
rank and vulgar growth of the cup
per countless" like Shelby, Henry.
Woodford, and Fayette, but more
delicate>and more aristocratic plant.
If may force metaphor, more or
less stolen, the blue grass of Barren
county is-to the blue grass of Bour-
bon county as is the arched instep
of the Frank to the fiat foot of the
Goth.
Well, go out into an old field and
. clear it of a patch of briars. Plow it
shallow, harrow it and thoroughly
pulverize the soil. Then the first
week in September, when that moon
is new of which the poet sang not
quite like this:
'<'The kiss that would make maids
cheek flush
Wroth, as if kissing were sin,
Amidst the Argus eyes and din
And tell-tale glare of noon
Brings but murmur and blush,
Beneath the harvest moon
in the first week in September SOW
your turnips. If you want to raise
turnips for sheep or cattle, sow them
the 25th of July and have turnips
though the weather be wet or dry.
But for pot-licker sow your turnips
early in September.
Then by the middle of October
when the frost has first kissed the
maiden foliage of the forests and
made it the glorious matron-wife of
,opulent Autumn-then your turnips
are ripe. Though small they are
sweet and grateful to the palate as
apples of the most delicious flavor
but without acidity. Butcher a shoat
of some 60 pounds and dress it nicely.
Take a chunk of the loin, half fat
dIu Hall lSdii, diio Poe ~ III oiA AAN'A
pot with sliced turnips, pure spring
water, and pod of red pepper, and
allow the mess first to boil and then
to simmer until the turnips, when
mashed, are of the consistency Of
mush. Dip out the meat and vege-
table, and the broth that is left is
,pot-licker-sure enough pot-licker.
But it is not yet balanced ration
for a Christian. 1t requires bread,
and cornbread at that. Moreover,
that cornbread must be "pone." Not
one American in ten thousand ever
tasted real cornbread. 1t is bar
barism that 1 would not suffer if
present to mix eggs with corn meal
for bread. There is no real corn mea!
in the world outside Kentucky and