Day 106 Quiet Day at Home

Today was a quiet day at home for me.  There was the ever present laundry, preparing for my next to last class, a nap, preparing snacks for the trip to the spit and cooking dinner.  I had bought beautiful mushrooms at the market on Saturday and  turned some of them into a chicken and mushrooms dish.  Quite yummy, if I do say so myself.
Del had an extra lecture today, so he worked this morning and headed out to school. 

I read an entry on FB about muddle tickets that took me back.  When I was a girl every organization in the county seemed to sell muddle to raise money for this and that.  Our Girl Scout Troop certainly raised a lot of money selling it and selling Claxton fruitcakes.  We actually got to ride the train to Savannah to juliette Gordon Lowe's home.  I never cared for the fruit cakes, but I still love muddle.  It goes by the name Brunswick stew in other places, although I think muddle is a little thicker.  You can eat it with a fork.  Every community had a couple of men who cooked the muddle for the groups to sell, and there was some disagreement as to who made the very best.  Other people just made it for friends and famiy.  We used to make muddle every year in a big black iron pot over a fire.  The women cooked the chicken, pulled it off the bones and got the vegetables together and the men stirred the pot constantly for hours until it was done.   Daddy had whittled out a paddle that looked very much like a boat paddle.  Keeping the fire hot enough to cook, but not burn the muddle and keeping it stirred all the way from the bottom was a big responsibility, because scorched muddle would ruin your reputation.  Stirring was a hot job, so the iced tea flowed.  In our family you had to sweeten your tea yourself if you wanted it that way, because Mother liked hers plain.

If you haven't had muddle, it is basically a thick stew of chicken, side meat or bacon, butterbeans, corn, onions, potatoes and tomatoes seasoned with salt and lots of black and red pepper.  Each muddle maker had variations.  Some people put in some sugar and some put in cracker meal at the end for thickness.  We didn't.  I have Woodrow Pollard's recipe and after cutting it down, manage to make a pretty good muddle in a big pot on the stove.  When the first hint of fall comes, Del asks when we are going to have muddle.  I make a big pot and freeze it in quarts for later.  Come to Ga. this fall, and I'll make you some.  We'll have fried corn bread.

Sometimes we had squirrel muddle.  I really couldn't tell much difference in taste, but I did hate it if a piece of shot was missed and I bit down on it.  Squirrel muddle was just for home eating, of course.

I guess all the muddle makers I knew are gone now.  I wonder who they passed their paddles to.

Tomorrow is our road trip to the spit.  I'll tell you all about it when we get home.