I called our new priest the other afternoon and asked, “How are you doing?” He answered with one word, “Starving”, so I told him it was fat Monday at the Vickers household and he was welcome to come over. He asked “What are we cooking?” to which I replied cracklin’ bread, collard greens, smoked hippo hocks and black eyed peas, rice, and fried fresh pork side. All that was needed from there was what time the feeding frenzy was to start.
I like to ‘feed the preacher’, and remember this being a southern tradition.
Ken Vickers
Something’s Fishy
When I was young and extended families were much closer to home than today, we children had to ‘wait second table’ and let the preacher, or preachers, if it was big meeting week, eat first. They and their wives and family would invariably eat the table nearly empty as my older brother, Claude, and I watched from the doorway of the big dining room at Grandma Janie’s. I remember Claude and I watching the fried chicken, a once in a great while delicacy back then, as the choice pieces would disappear quickly. Claude would watch to see if someone got his favorite, the thigh, while I would watch for my favorite, the back. Claude was nearly always disappointed because he had his sights set too high but I rarely got let down as the back was almost always left on the plate. I told him he needed to go for the neck with ribs attached and that way he would most likely not be heart broken.
What is it with people that work for the church? Do they ever get anything good to eat at home? My son and I recently went fishing and caught a fine mess of specks on Saturday afternoon and planned to fry them for Sunday dinner. I invited our guest organist from church who is not native to America but is a nice guy. He agreed to come and followed us home from church.
I got busy cutting fries, making hushpuppy batter, and salting the fish. While Anne finished the fries inside, we fried the fish and hushpuppies outside and then, along with some homemade sweet pickles and Cole slaw, placed it all on the table and gave thanks.
At this, the meal commenced and I have never seen a little man eat so much in all my life. I guess he had never had fresh fried speckled perch, or homemade hushpuppies, or Cole slaw, or real South Georgia sweet pickles. I was hoping for a few fish to be left over because one of my favorites is cold fried fish for breakfast. It soon became apparent this wasn’t going to happen because this obviously starving man vacuumed our table.
He swears he is a musician but I think he is lying. I think he is a preacher in musicians clothing.
What is it with people that work for the church? Do they ever get anything good to eat at home? My son and I recently went fishing and caught a fine mess of specks on Saturday afternoon and planned to fry them for Sunday dinner. I invited our guest organist from church who is not native to America but is a nice guy. He agreed to come and followed us home from church.
I got busy cutting fries, making hushpuppy batter, and salting the fish. While Anne finished the fries inside, we fried the fish and hushpuppies outside and then, along with some homemade sweet pickles and Cole slaw, placed it all on the table and gave thanks.
At this, the meal commenced and I have never seen a little man eat so much in all my life. I guess he had never had fresh fried speckled perch, or homemade hushpuppies, or Cole slaw, or real South Georgia sweet pickles. I was hoping for a few fish to be left over because one of my favorites is cold fried fish for breakfast. It soon became apparent this wasn’t going to happen because this obviously starving man vacuumed our table.
He swears he is a musician but I think he is lying. I think he is a preacher in musicians clothing.
Trackbacks
Trackback specific URI for this entry
No Trackbacks