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Yesterday was my cousin’s annual country supper. When you’ve finished viewing these pictures, please take a moment to pray for my thighs because I was there.
This cake was the hit of the day. It was brought by Faye, who called it Strawberry Dreamcicle Cake. She said she’s been wanting to make this cake for 40 years. She saw it in a magazine, but she lost the recipe. Then she saw a cake just like it at a church supper, but it was an orange cake. She got the recipe and turned it into her dream strawberry cake. I wrangled the recipe out of her and posted it here. There wasn’t a crumb left.
My cousin and his wife, and his parents before him, have been throwing this annual country supper at the old farmhouse for decades, and they’ve got the party food down to a fine tune. There were pots of beans simmering from early in the morning.
Ham and potatoes and more cornbread than you’ve ever seen in one place before in your life baked in giant pans.
That’s my homemade butter in the picture. Along with the four pies, I contributed a couple gallons of milk and a couple dozen eggs for cornbread-making plus butter and cream cheese.
There’s always plenty of fresh vegetables and salads and spreads.
And desserts all over the place.
My plate:
My dessert (Faye’s strawberry cake and cornmeal pie):
My cousin always has a couple of ladies hired to help in the kitchen, which is the only way to throw a party, I say. (Not that I’ve ever hired anyone for a party, but it sounds nice, doesn’t it?) They do all the set up before and the clean up after.
I like to hang out with the kitchen ladies. They always think I know where everything is because I used to live in the old farmhouse. I don’t really know where anything is anymore because Georgia put the old stuff back in the kitchen after I left, but I try to help and we commiserate about the mice in the house.
I took this picture right after I told them to give my cousin a kiss.
He must not be paying them enough!
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So much wonderful homemade food. The pictures of the watermelon, snap peas, and coleslaw are making me drool.
I spotted your homemade B.P. butter before I even read that it was, indeed, made by you.
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But he is certainly a double for him. WOW.
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That looks wonderful. I love small town potlucks.
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And I’m sure you had those 2 plates of food wore off by the time you got home!
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Mrs. Turkey
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Oh, and thank you for posting on weekends. I live alone, and appreciate the company! :-)
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Looks like a wonderful feed though, and if that’s all you ate, I’m sure you don’t need to worry.
But I’ll say a prayer, just in case.
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For some reason, reading this reminded me of when we used to do “chivalries” (except that can’t be correct because I know what “chivalry” is) …..did you ever do them down there? I *think* that’s what they called them (I was a young girl at the time).
It’s when newlyweds were married and a bunch of friends & family would show up unannounced at wherever they lived and would short-sheet their bed, do things to their car, wake them up and make the newlywed bride cook pancakes for everyone. (At least that’s what they did at the one I attended when I was about 10 years old.)
Basically a group of friends & family going and making a real pest of themselves at their home. Do you or anyone else know what I’m talking about?
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(from wikipedia) A shivaree, or charivari, or chivaree is a North American term for a clamorous salutation made to a newlywed couple by an assembled crowd of neighbours and friends.
This term is used in Rodgers and Hammerstein’s stage musical Oklahoma! based on Green Grow the Lilacs by Lynn Riggs.
It is also the title and main theme of an episode of “The Waltons” (Season 3 Episode 19). The bride and groom in the episode are jovially ‘harassed’ on their wedding night and the groom is ‘kidnapped’ until a paltry ransom is paid. The explanation given is that it was a down-home country tradition brought over to the colonies by the first settlers. Unfortunately, the ‘city boy’ groom was less than impressed. (It is a French term.)
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SkippyMom – please e-mail Suzanne and tell her who you are so that we can figure out if we are related.
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Funny, all that gorgeous food and the thing that made me the most nostalgic was the little glass of green onions. When I was a girl, there was always a little glass of green onions and a bowl of salt on the table or picnic table everyday in the spring and summer. Celery stalks in a glass in the winter. The onions came from our own garden. I don’t think I ever ate one, but I want green onions now.
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