Pontotoc, MS is my birthplace, but I lived there only two years before my
parents moved our family to Corinth, MS. Over the next nine years,
we lived
in Iuka, Starkville, and Okolona for varying time periods. I was eleven
when my dad bought an interest in the Market Basket retail grocery store
in Pontotoc, and our family returned to Pontotoc. Located on Main Street,
Market Basket was soon renamed Carter and Austin Grocery to reflect the names
of the new owners, Henry Carter and Colonel Austin.
Dad had worked for Kroger during my early childhood years, an era of change
for Kroger, Inc. In the Forties, Kroger stores were in many of the
rural county seat towns of Mississippi and other southern states. During
the Fifties, Kroger began to close large numbers of their small grocery stores
and concentrate their marketing efforts in larger metropolitan areas. It
was this new marketing strategy that resulted in our moving from Iuka, where
a store was being closed, to Starkville. Transferring from Starkville
to Okolona and after managing the Kroger store in Okolona for almost three
years, Dad found an opportunity to join the ranks of independent retailers.
At some point during our first year back in Pontotoc, we were introduced
to a different and delicious table syrup. I have tried, unsuccessfully,
to remember the name of the salesman who stopped by Dad's store each week
to pickup the grocery order for Malone and Hyde of Tupelo. The name
"Willis" sounds like it could have been his last name, but I cannot be certain.
I can remember his face and slightly overweight appearance.
I remember that he was the first person I ever heard say, "A good grilled
steak doesn't need any steak sauce or ketchup. It just needs eating."
The incident for which I best remember Mr. Willis occurred the year Ole Miss
beat Tennessee, thirty-eight to nothing in Memphis after a week of taunts
by Tennessee players that Ole Miss players were just a bunch of mules. Mr.
Willis was staying in the Peabody Hotel along with a host of other people
who were there to see the game.
In the lobby of the Peabody on Friday night before the game, a Tennessee
fan, inebriated and loud, kept challenging, "I'll bet a hundred dollars that
Ole Miss won't even score."
Most of the crowd present were Tennessee fans. Mr. Willis, a fan of
Ole Miss, stepped forward and peeled off a hundred dollars to show his acceptance
of the bet. The two men put their money in an envelope and gave it
to the clerk at the registration desk. They explained the conditions
of the wager and asked the clerk to keep the money in the safe for one of
them to claim the next day.
After seeing Ole Miss score their first touchdown, then a second one, Mr.
Willis became concerned about the two hundred dollars in the safe at the
Peabody. He left the stadium and claimed the money, without returning
to the ball game. He claimed he did not trust the other bettor, believing
him capable of bribing the desk clerk.
I am reasonably certain that Mr. Willis is responsible for our introduction
to Golden Eagle syrup, since he represented the company that supplied our
store with grocery products, and I vaguely recall my folks mentioning his
name in connection with the syrup. I had eaten Blackburn table syrup
for years, along with the rest of our family. My last childhood memory
of eating Blackburn syrup was during the time we lived in Okolona.
Blackburn was a sweet, but dark syrup with the appearance of thin molasses.
The transparent Golden Eagle syrup was quite a visual contrast to the
Blackburn brand, and the addition of honey to the other ingredients made
it even more appealing to our family. The folks that bottled the syrup
also declared it to be "The Pride Of Alabama." Through the years, many a
quart of this tasty syrup has been enjoyed by our family members.
After Barbara and I married and began a family, my older brother, who made
a career of the Air Force, moved to central Minnesota. Whenever we
vacationed there, we were asked to take Fred a supply of Golden Eagle syrup.
Minnesota is famous for many things, but Deep-South food is not among
them. Grits and Golden Eagle are not found in Minnesota homes that
do not have strong ties to the South. Yet, even my brother has discovered
that Golden Eagle is not stocked on all grocery shelves in the South. Fred
now lives near Orlando, FL, but has to drive to Alabama or Mississippi to
find what is also his family's favorite table syrup.
Table syrup is probably less popular today than fifty years ago, primarily
because many families do not take the time to prepare homemade biscuits.
Table syrup of any variety is enjoyed best when consumed with hot, buttered,
hand-made biscuits. Various techniques are employed by members of my
family, who eat Golden Eagle syrup, from ladling the syrup over the biscuits
to knifing the syrup on the biscuits, one bite at a time. Regardless
of the eating method, one rule must be adhered to at the Carter homealways
pour the syrup away from the label of the syrup jar. This assures the
next person, who uses the jar, a clean, non-sticky surface to grip. It
takes a bit of practice to cut off the syrup at the mouth of the jar without
it rendering a gooey rim that makes the jar lid hard to remove the next time
your family wants to have syrup and biscuits.
Once the syrup is poured onto the plate, I recommend a smidgen of butter
(a smidgen is slightly less than a fourth of a pat of butter) be added by
stirring it into the syrup. Though not a necessity, this adds a bit
of color and flavor, plus the biscuits usually are not buttered edge to edge.
I do not recommend using as much butter as Lillie Belle slaps on her
syrup, since the end result looks more like whipped honey than Golden Eagle
syrup. Neither do I recommend you eat your syrup by cutting up the
biscuits in a sea of syrup or drizzling syrup over broken or cut biscuits.
Either of these results in a different taste sensation than simply
spooning the syrup on the biscuit, one bite at a time. I don't think
I have cornered the market on the best technique, I am just sharing my years
of experiencing the various ways to eat biscuits and Golden Eagle syrup.
Actually, I do not use a spoon to transfer the syrup from the plate to the
biscuit, I use a table knife. Of course I know that proper etiquette
states to avoid eating with a knife, but that's the way my dad ate his and
his father before him. The knife method has also been passed down to
my children both of whom find this to be preferable to other techniques.
It's pretty handy when you think about it, especially since you just
used the knife to cut off the syrup and maybe the same knife to stir the
butter into the syrup. And yes, if I ever have to pour more syrup to make
it come out even with the biscuits, I lick the knife blade clean before cutting
extra syrup. (Make it come out even is an expression establishing
the fact that the proportion of syrup to biscuits exists in a one to one
ratio—one portion of syrup for each one bite of biscuit.)
It does not matter to me how you enjoy your biscuits and syrup or even whether
you ever eat such as this. I do hope that if you have never tried the
combination, you will at least try it. And, if I have flung a craving
on you for some hot biscuits and syrup, then go and fix yourself some. If
you cannot purchase Golden Eagle in you supermarket, let me know, and I will
ship some to you.
Frances' Feast
The last Sunday of October was a time to celebrate the official opening of
the holiday season for the Carter Family. For most of the years my
mother lived, she would have a craving for some chicken and dressing near
the end of October, a time that, coincidentally, occurred near her October
27th birth-date. At some point in our lives we, her children, began
to celebrate her birthday on the October Sunday that fell closest to her
birthday. Over a period of time, this became a holiday celebration
to usher in the Thanksgiving and Christmas seasons for our family.
Afterall, Thanksgiving was but a month away.
Mom loved to cook and really enjoyed eating chicken and dressing, but she
felt it inappropriate to prepare the chicken and dressing during the spring
and summer months. For Mom, the dressing tasted better in the cool
and cold months of fall and winter. I guess you could say she trained
us to feel the same. Once the weather turns warm, my family does not
get in the mood for chicken and dressing until the last of October.
Mom passed on eight years ago, two days before her birthday. However,
the tradition of eating chicken and dressing to celebrate Mom's birthday
and inaugurate the beginning of the holiday season continues in the families
of Sarah's and mine. Her family and my family gather at one of our
homes, along with any other kin who are willing to attend and feast upon
traditional Thanksgiving fare.
Merilese missed out this year, in the first part because she is too young
for solid food, and secondly because her parents finished their weekend visit
to our home on Saturday. Sarah was present with her brood as was Aunt
Jo, Lillie Belle, and Jason. Aunt Jo even brought a plate of fried
pies, both peach and apple, along with a bowl of turnip greens and extra
cornbread. Other holiday foods included candied sweet potatoes, congealed
salad, cranberry sauce, giblet gravy, English peas, and creamed potatoes.
There was more food to eat than we could consume, and it was all lip-smacking
good.
It was a country feast that even Frances would have blessed with, "I hope
you can eat it."
Bodock Beau
Beau heard another true "Church" story: This one really happened in a Baptist
Church in Greenville, MS. Early in the Sunday morning worship, Pastor
Jones (not his real name) asked all the young children to come down to the
front of the sanctuary for a brief time called "Children's Church." During
such times, the pastor typically shares a Bible story or truth with the children.
Often the pastor asks the children questions and encourages their participation.
Attempting to make the children feel good about themselves and to put them
at ease in front of an audience, Pastor Jones shared how nice they each looked
in their Sunday clothes. One little girl's dress was particularly
eye-catching.
My, my. What a beautiful dress you have on." Pastor Jones remarked.
"It has all this lovely lace...it's just beautiful!"
Instead of a shy thank you, as one might have expected, what followed literally
reverberated off every surface, "Uh huh, but my moma says it's a bitch to
iron!"
Beau further stated the congregation were unable to get settled after their
laughter, so the pastor dismissed the service for the day.
in Iuka, Starkville, and Okolona for varying time periods. I was eleven
when my dad bought an interest in the Market Basket retail grocery store
in Pontotoc, and our family returned to Pontotoc. Located on Main Street,
Market Basket was soon renamed Carter and Austin Grocery to reflect the names
of the new owners, Henry Carter and Colonel Austin.
