My plucky grandmother’s family and garden flourished in Old Idaho.
Excerpt
Twenty-five
Picnic Sundays
If I had a nickel for every picnic memory, I could pad my
pocketbook. Sundays we’d be gathering with my sister Maudie,
Ray and their folks. As our family grew all comers were on the
invite. Ever’one brought a Dutch oven chicken, a casserole, a
salad, and a dessert. We all had our favorites to bring and our
favorites to eat. If Maudie forgot her spud salad she’d hear
about it all the day. We’d nestle bottles of sodee pop in the creek.
Gracious how a sodee could mend a parched throat. Most times,
as long as the ice was lasting, someone brought along the ice
cream. The little ones would take turns at the crank until it
became too hard. Then they’d give it over to a growed up for the
final work of it. There was nothing like the taste of homemade
ice cream to top off a piece of pie or cake or a picnic.
The gatherings began in Carey, moved to Mackay, and finally
up East Fork of the Little Wood River. As the family had more
access to cars and roads improved, the get togethers moved up to
Sunbeam where the hot springs mixed with the cool waters of the
Salmon River. They found favorite spots up Trail Creek, over
Galena, up to Stanley, and Red Fish Lake. A Sunday in summer
was the only excuse needed to gather the Ivie clan for a picnic.
Some of the menfolk would scurry up a game of horseshoes
although most were content to sit around swapping lies. A few of
the fellows would take themselves off some paces to share a beer
or a tipple of bourbon and an off color joke. Alcohol was not
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tolerated at the picnic proper. The gals covered the tables with a
collection of cloths and displayed their contributions. Casseroles
and salads marched down the center of the tables where the folks
would sit to eat while the desserts typically tempted from their
very own table. The womenfolk arranged and chatted and
reviewed the gossip of pregnancies, gall bladders, wayward
children, and who had been seen with whom. Youngsters chased
and yelled, played hide and seek, waded and caught minnows,
fetched firewood, pitched pup tents for the naps that rarely
happened, and dreamed of water fights later in the day.
Scoldings were few and far between. Kids were bound to get wet
and dirty, and mothers came prepared with changes of clothing.
Everyone settled in come time to eat. Chicken was the
mainstay, but the other choices, my stars! You could piece here,
eat there, and never sample the same dish twice. Salads were a
favorite. In winter, folks just didn’t buy such as lettuce and
tomatoes, even if they were available. They were far too dear in
price. The closest anyone came to salad in wintry weather was a
withered hunk of cabbage tossed up as slaw. So when the pretty
fresh salads made their summer appearances at picnics, they
vanished with all manner of dressings before the blink of an eye.
After dinner clean up found Mary Ann caught in the act of
collecting the used plastic picnic ware. She was astounded at the
waste of tossing perfectly good plastic spoons and forks and cups
at end of day. She would bag them along with gently used plates,
take them home, wash them, and fetch them to the next reunion.
Waste not, want not.
The fun and frolic began with the spitting of olive seeds at
table. Although some of the adults did not approve, they usually
turned a blind eye at a picnic. Mirth and mayhem escalated
when, after dinner, huge wedges of watermelon were passed
around. Every kid was eager to spit a few seeds to see how far
they might go and where they might land.
The climax of an Ivie picnic was the water fight. There were
three levels of participation. The instigators took front and
center. Katie and Mary, eldest daughter of Irma and Frank, were
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the captains with Rod, son of Mae and Henry, as their first
lieutenant. Followers included all the kids. The innocent
bystanders had more than an inkling of the sport to come.
There were three rules. Get everyone wet as possible. Steer
clear of the dessert table. Avoid getting the oldsters. The first and
second rules were the only ones heeded. No one liked a soggy
brownie.
Everyone knew to keep Mary Ann dry. That lasted for a pair
of seconds. After her first dousing, she would sputter and steam.
She sat almost regally on her campstool, all a drip. Soon
chortling, she commissioned any child willing to do her bidding
to bring her a cup of water so she was prepared for the next
assault. One year she surprised her attacker when she drew a
water pistol from her pocket and fired. Water guns had been
outlawed, but after Mary Ann’s unexpected foray, the rules
changed forever.
Bone weary, soaked, happy at end of day, the families
departed for home. Children sported a few cuts and bruises,
trophies of the time. They were ready for baths and beds. Henry
came home from a Sunday picnic and declared himself saddle
sore from riding with his brother in law, Frank, all day. Frank’s
stories of cowboying on the range plum tuckered everyone out.
Before day’s end, the next picnic destination was
determined. The Ivie and Knight and Brasse and Bell and
Erlandson and Spellman and LaMunyan picnics held special
moments and memories. Moments did not last, but the
memories did. In the midst of an Idaho summer’s beauty and
bounty, it was difficult to remember that fall was just around the
corner with winter nipping at its heels.
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Mary Ann’s Ideeho Fried Dutch Oven Chicken
2 cups fat for frying
1 chicken, cut up
1 cup buttermilk
¾ cup flour
1 tablespoon salt
1 tablespoon sage
1 tablespoon pepper
Soak chicken pieces in buttermilk for about 30 minutes.
In a Dutch oven or cast iron fry pan, heat the oil until it sizzles a
drop of water.
In a paper bag, combine flour, salt, sage, and pepper. Drop two
or three pieces of chicken into the bag and shake to coat. Place
pieces on a plate for a minute or two to allow them to dry. Fry
meatier pieces first, and do not crowd them. Add smaller pieces
and brown for about 15 minutes. Reduce heat, cover and cook 30
to 35 minutes. Uncover and cook about 10 more minutes to crisp.
When taken to a picnic in a Dutch oven, the chicken was fully
cooked (the original 30 to 35 minutes.) The oven was set by the
fire to heat through, turned, then uncovered for the last 10
minutes to crisp.
RAEANN PROOST
Katie’s Sausage, Cabbage, and Noodles
½ pound sausage
½ cup butter
1 head of cabbage, thinly sliced
noodles
1 tablespoon salt
1 teaspoon pepper
Brown sausage in a Dutch oven or large pot. Remove sausage
and set aside. Add enough butter to the oil to make about ½
cup. Drop cabbage into the heated oil and butter and cook
slowly, 30 to 40 minutes. Cook noodles in another pot and drain.
Combine cabbage, noodles, and sausage and season with salt and
pepper.
Serves 6 to 8.
Noodles
2 cups flour
3 eggs
2 tablespoons water
1 teaspoon salt
Combine flour, eggs, water, and salt. Dough will be stiff. Turn out
on a floured board and knead. Roll out into a large, thin sheet.
Generously sprinkle with flour and roll up as if making a jelly
roll. Slice across the roll to make noodles.
Shake out, shake off excess flour, and lay out to dry, at least an
hour. Noodles may be dropped into simmering water or broth a
few at time and cooked 15 to 20 minutes.
Maudie’s Spud Salad
6 slices bacon
1/3 cup vinegar
2 tablespoons water
1 egg, beaten
1 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon pepper
6 cups potatoes, peeled, cooked, and diced
½ cup scallions, chopped
Fry bacon, cool, crumble. Set aside. To warm bacon drippings,
add vinegar, water, egg, sugar, salt, and pepper. Heat and stir
until thick. Toss potatoes with the warm dressing, crumbled
bacon, and scallions.
Serve warm or cold.
Serves 8-10.
Read more about PEPPER IN HER POCKET, THE STOVE AND STORIES OF A COUNTRY GRANDMOTHER and RaeAnn Proost HERE.
Copyright 2008 RaeAnn Proost. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
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