Running From A Rooster

My mom loved bantam chickens, her younguns, our dad, and her kitchen curtains. I am not for sure if that is in the right order or not.

Mom used to gripe to Dad about his, always hungry, fox hounds.

"My chickens never have chance," she would complain. "The dogs gets every biscuit that I throw out, before it hits the ground!"

Those little chickens were always under foot, as they ran around the yard looking for food. Some of the roosters could get quite cocky about who was allowed in their space. If you have never run from a mad rooster, don't underestimate their scaring powers. It is quite humbling to be bluffed by one of them.

A platter of their scrambled eggs was really good. Mom cooked those eggs in a large cast iron skillet with medium hot lard. She did not use her home made butter for eggs. She would drop them in the oil and not stir them until they became a little firm. Then she gently stirred with a fork. Mom never beat her eggs until they lost all color except yellow. When you ate her eggs, you enjoyed the texture and color of partly fried and partly scrambled. Sometimes when I am in the mood I cook them like that.

Mom raised our large family with food cooked the old fashioned way. I think years ago, someone decided to call it 'comfort food.' That is a good way to describe it.

When she made her large pan of biscuits, she pulled out her big medal bowl that always had flour in in it. She made a well in the flour and poured her milk into it. She poured with one hand and worked in flour with the other. It was an art, and I still remember watching her pull the flour from the sides of the bowl as she worked her dough into a soft ball. I never remember seeing Mom look through a cook book. Her recipes were in her head.

When Mom was a young wife she made her some curtains from some of the flour sacks that she had emptied. They were blue and white, with a white ruffle around them. We were frequently moving from one place to another. Mom would carefully pack those curtains, so she could put them up in her next kitchen.

Proverbs 31:10 Who can find a virtuous woman? Her price is far about rubies.

You better believe her children will rise up and called her blessed!