People were so poor that they had to extract every bit of nutrition they could from there meager existence or so I have been told. I try to avoid most if not all of what you just said.Scrapple is scraps of meat ground up and fried as a thin patty. As the son of a full blooded Czech mother, we made Souse which is head cheese with extra vinegar. A hogs head was boiled for about 3 hours. Spices are added, the bones in the head give up juices that when cooled turn to a clear gelatin. The snout, forehead, ears, tongue, jowls cheeks and temples are boned out and cut up into bite sized pieces. The meat is combined with the juice and put in a mold. In our case, cake pans. Then it’s cooled in the refrigerator or out on the porch in winter and eaten like a meat infused jello. Not bad. Makes a hot dog look like Sunday school
Meat. Did I mention there was a lot of gout in the old Bohemie crowd? And high blood pressue was a way of life. There are recipes for all of this. In rural Iowa there are still some small independent locker plants that custom butcher. They are the source for hogs heads, Rocky Mountain Oysters, Jowl bacon, award winning sausage and delicacies like landjaeger. Sometimes called weasel peter for some strange reason.
Iowa Dave
Took delivery on our 21' in June; during the orientation, expected Reece or the Carl (new manger) to say "hello" but didn't even see them...Someone at higher management should greet and personally thank customers for their business; Simple business ethics.
Took delivery on our 21' in June; during the orientation, expected Reece or the Carl (new manger) to say "hello" but didn't even see them...Someone at higher management should greet and personally thank customers for their business; Simple business ethics.
What, no Lutefisk? A story my Norwegian mother would tell me is that it was a common practice to keep the Lutefisk in large crocks outside the house (presumably because of the smell) at the front curb to cure and the very best Lutefisk was from the crocks that had been flavored by the local dogs.When I was growing up I loved eating my Grandmother’s...
What, no Lutefisk? A story my Norwegian mother would tell me is that it was a common practice to keep the Lutefisk in large crocks outside the house (presumably because of the smell) at the front curb to cure and the very best Lutefisk was from the crocks that had been flavored by the local dogs.
Coddling is something I never took much stock in. My orientation was handled professionally by an employee and my questions were answered . The manager coming out to greet you at the time of sale ? I could care less unless there was a serious issue with the employee or the product. Reace is the production manager, I assume he is busy building trailers. If there are QC issues fine, but how is not being greeted a business ethics issue? I just don’t get it.
It's a courtesy to spell people's names correctly. It's Reace and it's Karl.
And Carl is not the new manger, Karl is the new manager
on edit: I do believe this thread has more than run its course. Perhaps a moderator should close it.
Speaking of bacon....
I had a grandmother who routinely cooked bacon in the mornings and then would dip her bread in the grease and eat it like toast. she lived to be 94....
My father use to tell the story about during the depression kids would eat bread fried in bacon fat for breakfast so that when they got to school they smelled like bacon and the other kids would think they were not poor and their family could afford bacon
We used to eat bologna sandwiches and potatoes fried in bacon fat .
My Grandmother use to render lard every Fall , makes the best pie crust .
And Carl is not the new manger, Karl is the new manager
on edit: I do believe this thread has more than run its course. Perhaps a moderator should close it.
And Carl is not the new manger, Karl is the new manager
on edit: I do believe this thread has more than run its course. Perhaps a moderator should close it.
on edit: I do believe this thread has more than run its course. Perhaps a moderator should close it.
My father use to tell the story about during the depression kids would eat bread fried in bacon fat for breakfast so that when they got to school they smelled like bacon a.