LETTER FROM MARTHY TIDWELL

HAPPY FALL, Y’ALL!

Dear Lottie Helen and all,

I hope this letter finds you all well.  We’re all well as common, but your Daddy liketa had a little tumble comin’ in with the stovewood last week.   He caught the cuff a his shirt on that ole long doorknob, and stumbled several steps before he righted hisself.  Didn’t drop a stick, not even them little ole fat lighterd slivers.   Soon’s we seen he ‘as allright, we all laughed fit to bust at that little dance he done. 

Tonight’s Church Supper night, and I’m a doin’ my best to get some good Fall cookin done to take.  Well, I got that big old roaster-pan buttered up right heavy, and then I got three a them quarts of gooood peaches out of the freezer and let ‘em thaw a while.   Then I  takened, and I put them sliced peaches in the bottom a there, and sprinkled on a right smart a sugar---just enough to get ‘em goin makin juice ‘n’ all—and a big dash of verneller. 
Cobbler is always better if you dot a good lot of butter around on top of the fruit, too. 

  And then, I went out and got me about four a them good yaller-yawk eggs for the cake---nothin’ like a good yard egg for a good rich cake.

I got that old Sunbeam a-goin with them eggs and about a cup and a hafe a sugar, and just let ‘er rip til that mixture climbed up about three times its size and makin’ a ribbon when you lifted up the beaters.   So you measure out the flour and Clabber Girl and Salt, and melt you about a cup of butter in a different cup, along with a cup of milk with some good verneller stirred in.

You know, you hafta measure when you’re bakin’ cause it’s more like chemistry than cookin.  The right amounts of every tee-ninecy thing is the secret, especially the teaspoons of bakin’ sody or Clabber Girl, because they can play havick with all those good eggs and fresh butter if they’re off by even a smidge.   Nothin’ worse than a cake that squatted to rise, and baked in the squat, except maybe a real pretty one, all fluffy and golden, that wastes all those good ingredients and gets all the way to the table (especially if there’s comp’ny) so bitter with too much leavenin’ that the dogs just sniff and slink off when you throw it out in the yard.

I got the cake all mixed up good and light, and poured it real gentle over those peaches---it like to overflowed the pan, so I scooped out a cup or so of the peaches to keep it from runnin over in the oven.   Got it into a good smart hot oven, and then I put on three quarts of them good snap beans we canned when y’all was here in August.   Weren’t they fine? 

Just a big ole onion in the Dutch Oven sweated down some, and the biggest ham bone out of the freezer laid in with the drained beans, a good reach of salt and I crushed up almost a whole head of that fresh garlic we’ve got dryin out in the egg shed.  They’re cookin down right now, with some soy sauce, and does this house smell mighty fine!   Got a few dozen of the littlest potaters soakin to scrub to lay on top at the end to cook. 

I better go get my blue dress ironed.  I got so busy pickin up pecans and with the gettin-in of the last bell peppers and sweet taters so the boys could till the garden under, that I just laid everything crosswise on your bed til I could get to the ironin.

Remember we love all a y’all.

Your Loving Mama Marthy Tidwell