tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71647728593042084222024-03-13T19:56:00.860-07:00Sweetgrass, Shrimp & GritsSweetgrass, Shrimp & Grits...Tales from the LowcountryRebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05979472721907250819noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7164772859304208422.post-47347873289638028342011-11-18T07:07:00.000-08:002011-11-18T07:07:15.332-08:00Under Old Great Trees<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL4qXUECXqut7Pdy1UeEBo8dX1I_zMAgcaAHqO2Bxqm7_Z1MTT48hceQPCz0jPJG7dg2qRiuqM1x6WmVufRQTDRSSyX3aXpT20rGvT6G9Rh9h1YOs6NRaXQ10-Q24nMM139ZTcOHX70Ww/s1600/October_Road.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL4qXUECXqut7Pdy1UeEBo8dX1I_zMAgcaAHqO2Bxqm7_Z1MTT48hceQPCz0jPJG7dg2qRiuqM1x6WmVufRQTDRSSyX3aXpT20rGvT6G9Rh9h1YOs6NRaXQ10-Q24nMM139ZTcOHX70Ww/s320/October_Road.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I remember this place, from my childhood, this long road under old great trees. My sister and I would run there, in and out of the trees, picking up acorns, and berries, and leaves of scarlet and gold. My mother and her sister would gather pecans on the nearby farm. Thanksgiving would be here soon, and pecans were needed for pies, cakes, and other southern staples of the season. <br />
<br />
<div></div><div></div><div></div><div>I dreamed of this place last night, and Judy, and Mama, and Aunt Elsie. I don't know what took me back there. But for a time, I was there again, under the old great trees.</div><div> </div><div></div><div><span style="font-size: 85%;"><em></em></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 85%;"><em></em></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 85%;"><em></em></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 85%;"><em></em></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 85%;"><em>"I remember more dearly autumn afternoons in bottoms that lay intensely silent under old great trees."</em> C.S. Lewis</span></div>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05979472721907250819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7164772859304208422.post-77603339319727997182011-10-06T12:47:00.000-07:002011-10-06T12:47:33.017-07:00Fall Weather and Chicken Perloo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As much as I love Summer, I have to admit, I love Fall too. Something about the cooler temperatures, football games, wood smoke, and the mountains painted with brilliant colors makes me feel all cozy inside. Ultimately it leads me to comfort foods.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I grew up spending weeks in the spring and summer traveling between Athens, Savannah, and Gainesville. Having family in all those areas, I was priviledged, blessed really, to an exposure of different regional foods. My paternal grandmother exposed me to all things Athens and central and southern Georgia. My maternal grandmother and great grandmother exposed me to Coastal Georgia and Lowcountry foods. My mom and aunts taught me early on of those wonderful dishes coming out of the farmlands and foothills of North Georgia.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But... when I want a simple, one pot, warm and cozy comfort food, I remember Great Granny's Chicken Perloo. Perloo is a lowcountry dish, made of basics...rice, chicken, pork, savory seasonings. Perloo is actually the gullah pronounciation of the word "pilau," a dish that originated with the people of the gullah nation. The folks north of Savannah and Charleston probably use the "proper" pronounciation, Chicken Pilau. But I prefer the old term my Granny and Mama used, "perloo." Another spelling is "perlo." Recipes for Chicken Perloo are as varied as the pronounciation. Some are simple, like my family's. Others are all gussied up with herbs, olive oil, mushrooms and peppers. I like mine simple. Here's the recipe as I remember it from my Mama, Granny, and Great Granny.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1 fryer chicken, cut up</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">4 - 5 cups water</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Salt, pepper, chicken boullion cubes or poultry seasoning</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1 lb. country ham, or thick bacon (later my mom started using polish sausage as a substitute)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1 - 2 tablespoons vegetable oil</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1 large or 2 small onions, chopped</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1 - 2 stalks celery, chopped</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2 cups white rice</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">(Optional - 1 chopped tomato, chopped bell pepper)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Place chicken in a large dutch oven, or soup pan as my mama would say, cover with the water, season well with salt, pepper, a couple of chicken boullion cubes or poultry seasoning. Bring to a simmer and cook chicken 20-30 minutes until done .</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Remove chicken from broth, <strong>saving the broth</strong>, and set chicken aside to cool. When cool enough to handle, skin and debone, and shred or cut up chicken. Add the chicken back to the broth.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In a large fry pan, heat the tablespoon or two of vegetable oil. Add cubed country ham or bacon and cook until crispy. Remove pork from the pan and add the chopped onion and celery, adding a bit more oil if needed to prevent veggies from sticking. Cook veggies until tender and translucent. Add pork and veggies to the broth and chicken. Bring to a boil. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When broth begins to boil, add the rice. Stir well. Reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer slowly until rice is cooked and water is absorbed. Stir occasionally and taste for seasoning. Add salt and pepper if desired. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Final thoughts....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">** Many recipes will call for pouring the broth into another container and setting aside. Use the same dutch oven or soup pan to brown the pork and saute the onion and celery. Then, pouring the broth back over the veggies. My family always cooked the pork and sauted the veggies in a large fry pan, then deglazed with a bit of broth, adding it all back to the broth.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">** Sometimes Mama or Granny would add chopped tomato to the mix after everything was combined back into the broth. I happen to like the tomato and will often use it. Sometimes they even added chopped green pepper to the onion and celery.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">** Polish sausage is a nice hearty substitute for ham or bacon. In fact, I prefer it. If you use polish sausage, you'll want to slice in about quarter inch rounds.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Chicken Perloo ~~ takes me back to Savannah and my island everytime.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwUvEpAuGcvenSAdBkfUloLYJeUxc4fQbd2EEmWOK5i4PkIH2UBjTNerWwTgYunHdGBKPRQ95F86K-WXBU0OOnOz2-jljx_UYH66JXhQKBvKwwmm5YP3Bqm4LK4wSQcMTRoz1Rf3nZBEk/s1600/chicken+perloo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwUvEpAuGcvenSAdBkfUloLYJeUxc4fQbd2EEmWOK5i4PkIH2UBjTNerWwTgYunHdGBKPRQ95F86K-WXBU0OOnOz2-jljx_UYH66JXhQKBvKwwmm5YP3Bqm4LK4wSQcMTRoz1Rf3nZBEk/s1600/chicken+perloo.jpg" /></a></div><div align="left"></div>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05979472721907250819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7164772859304208422.post-58324906461403175722011-09-21T13:59:00.000-07:002011-09-21T14:04:18.096-07:00My IslandI started this blog as a small attempt to stay connected to my island. My heart is there, left among the live oaks, the smell of the marsh, and the plough mud of the tidal pools. I sometimes hear the whispers of the gullah people, in my dreams; their deep songs of life, hardship, and Jesus. One day, soon I hope, I'll be back there. Until then, I'll dream about my island, and write about her secrets, the people, the food, and a simple life from long ago. We'll see where it takes me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<dt><em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Oh, what is abroad in the marsh and the terminal sea? </span></em></dt><br />
<br />
<dt><em><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Somehow my soul seems suddenly free </span></em></dt><br />
<br />
<dt><em><span style="font-size: x-small;">From the weighing of fate and the sad discussion of sin, </span></em></dt><br />
<br />
<dt><em><span style="font-size: x-small;">By the length and the breadth and the sweep of the marshes of Glynn.</span></em> ~ <span style="font-size: x-small;">from The Marshes of Glynn by Sidney Lanier</span></dt><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<dt> </dt><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>The Marshes of Glynn</b> is one of </span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Sidney_Lanier" title="Sidney Lanier"><span style="color: #0645ad; font-size: x-small;">Sidney Lanier</span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;">'s poems featured in "Hymns of the Marshes," an unfinished set of lyrical nature poems that describe the open </span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Salt_marsh" title="Salt marsh"><span style="color: #0645ad; font-size: x-small;">salt marshes</span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"> of </span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Glynn_County,_Georgia" title="Glynn County, Georgia"><span style="color: #0645ad; font-size: x-small;">Glynn County</span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"> in coastal </span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Georgia_(U.S._state)" title="Georgia (U.S. state)"><span style="color: #0645ad; font-size: x-small;">Georgia</span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;">. The poem describes a marsh in detail, while evoking senses of patience and common decency.</span><br />
<div class="thumb tright"><div class="thumbinner" style="width: 252px;"><a class="image" href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/File:JekyllIslandMarsh.jpg"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><img alt="" class="thumbimage" height="140" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/d/df/JekyllIslandMarsh.jpg/250px-JekyllIslandMarsh.jpg" width="250" /></span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
<div class="thumbcaption"><div class="magnify"><a class="internal" href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/File:JekyllIslandMarsh.jpg" title="Enlarge"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><img alt="" height="11" src="http://bits.wikimedia.org/skins-1.17/common/images/magnify-clip.png" width="15" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;">A marsh near </span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Jekyll_Island" title="Jekyll Island"><span style="color: #0645ad; font-size: x-small;">Jekyll Island</span></a></div></div></div><br />
<table class="metadata mbox-small plainlinks" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; border-bottom: #aaa 1px solid; border-left: #aaa 1px solid; border-right: #aaa 1px solid; border-top: #aaa 1px solid;"><tbody>
<tr><td class="mbox-image"><span style="color: #0645ad; font-size: x-small;"><img alt="" height="40" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/4/4c/Wikisource-logo.svg/38px-Wikisource-logo.svg.png" width="38" /></span></td><td class="mbox-text"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Wikisource" title="Wikisource"><span style="color: #0645ad; font-size: x-small;">Wikisource</span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"> has original text related to this article: </span><br />
<div style="margin-left: 10px;"><i><b><a class="extiw" href="http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Special:Search/The_Marshes_of_Glynn" title="wikisource:Special:Search/The Marshes of Glynn"><span style="color: #3366bb; font-size: x-small;">The Marshes of Glynn</span></a></b></i></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">In <i>The Marshes of Glynn</i> Lanier is giving a religious testament. But he is doing more than evoking the mystery of God, he is speaking to his beloved country, the South, which lay devastated following the </span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/American_Civil_War" title="American Civil War"><span style="color: #0645ad; font-size: x-small;">American Civil War</span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;">. He feared the coming onslaught of industrialism. And he sought to comfort his southern brethren by showing them the South was still there: an expansive landscape full of beauty and richness which had always been the source of her strength and sustenance. "Look around you," he was saying. "Take courage from the land which God has given you, which has always nourished you, and which is still there, and be comforted."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">~~ Wikipedia</span>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05979472721907250819noreply@blogger.com0