Being Dead Is No Excuse Page 3
Methodist Customs and Cuisine
Many local Episcopalians would be shocked to learn that St. James’ is not the oldest church in the world. It is not even the oldest church in Greenville. That honor goes to the Methodists, who had a log-cabin church in the 1830s before St. James’ was established in 1868. Also, the “Mother of Greenville,” Harriet Blanton Theobold, was a devout Methodist. Mrs. Theobold—many of whose descendants have naturally gravitated to St. James’—is accorded her matriarchal title because she donated land from her plantation to rebuild Greenville after it was burned down during the Wa-wuh. (Some people think Southerners refer to this unfortunate epoch as the War of Northern Aggression—that’s not true; we just call it the Wawuh.) Mrs. Theobold is credited with introducing “Methodist cuisine” (in the parlance of an official Methodist history) to Greenville—which means she should also be honored as the “Mother of the Covered Dish Casserole.”
Historically, Methodists are better behaved than Episcopalians. Lucy Mattie Trigg, who grew up as a Methodist preacher’s daughter in Aberdeen, Mississippi (a town that, sad to say, is in the hill country and therefore not part of the more convivial Delta), remembered her Episcopal sister-in-law, who wasn’t very devout, and who used to come and visit. This in-law could shock everybody merely by going upstairs, turning on the Victrola, and dancing. She wasn’t blood kin, so nobody could tell the infidel to stop. The family had to sit in stony silence in the parlor below as she desecrated the house.
From a social point of view, the Episcopalians and the Presbyterians, located a block away from each other, are competitive. Episcopalians who get mad at the rector zip over to the Presbyterian church until things cool down. When an elderly gentleman returned to St. James’ after one such absence, parishioners noticed that he had pierced an ear. “That’s what happens if you become a Presbyterian,” everybody chortled, though there’s absolutely no evidence that elderly Presbyterians are any more predestined to pierce their ears than elderly Episcopalians.
Though a number of old planter families still hew to the religion of the Wesley brothers, and there is certainly no spiritual or theological animosity, the culinary competition between the Episcopal ladies and the Methodist ladies is cutthroat. Episcopalians are snooty because they spurn cake mixes and canned goods, without which there would be no such thing as Methodist cuisine. Methodist ladies do great things with the contents of cans and boxes. If a survey were done of the winners of Pillsbury Bake-Offs, ten to one the majority would be Methodists. The casserole is the most characteristically Methodist foodstuff.
“You can always tell when a Methodist dies—there are lots of casseroles,” said Lucy Mattie Trigg. A Methodist lady grocery-shops by wheeling her cart down the aisles and grabbing every can in sight. Her pantry looks like an arsenal, but she has on hand the makings of a fine casserole any time of the day or night. Because of this reliance on canned goods, the sodium content of Methodist funeral cuisine is high. If several Methodists die in a row, the ladies of the church complain that they can’t get their wedding rings on; their fingers are too swollen. Methodist cooking, the mother lode of Greenville funerary fare, is delicious, but you must overcome snobbery and embrace canned soup, their favorite ingredient. The Methodist culinary genius might be summed up this way: Now you’re cookin’ with Campbell’s. (See also “Comfort Foods: There Is a Balm in Campbells Soup,” p. 141.) It should be noted that, when in a group, Episcopal ladies say they are purists and turn up their noses at Chicken Lasagna Florentine, a bubbly, cheesy concoction with everything from sour cream to buttered pecans, a Methodist favorite guaranteed to produce another funeral in short order. When polled anonymously, however, many Episcopalians admit to a secret preference for the eclectic Methodist goo. Fried chicken, though ecumenical, is yet another Methodist specialty, the dish traditionally served when the preacher comes to Sunday lunch.
The cookbooks put out by the Greenville Methodists abound in such treats as Hot Dog Stew, which the average St. James’ cook would ostentatiously pass up—in public. While not entirely appropriate for a funeral, Hot Dog Stew, no doubt, helps Methodists weed out the (literally) faint of heart from their flock. Methodist cooking is definitely not for those who’ve recently had bypass surgery, unless they’re angling to be the honoree at the next funeral.
A Methodist burial service is not quite in the same league with one at St. James’. There are robes rather than embroidered vestments and no rosy-cheeked acolytes. The Methodists are sort of the in-between church—not as formal as Episcopalians, yet not as rollicking as Baptists. “Methodists are frustrated Baptists who’d like to be Episcopalians,” said Lucy Mattie Trigg. That is: They’d like to whoop and holler, but they are not deaf to the clarion call of upward mobility. When Methodists make the move to St. James’, they must learn restraint. “They’re never too peppy at the Episcopal church,” sneered Lucy Mattie, who visits occasionally with her son, now vying for a place on the vestry. At St. James’, it would be truly amazing if you were put away to the tune of “Amazing Grace,” a Methodist top ten. The elegiac “Oh, God, Our Help in Ages Past” is about as jolly as Episcopalians get. (For more on hymns, see “The Delta Funeral Hit Parade,” p. 170.)
Methodist ministers often are former bad boys who smoked and drank and ran with the wild crowd before they saw the light and reformed. Episcopal clergy are nice boys (and now girls) who still like to smoke and drink and run with the wild crowd. But then, how can you reform when you’ve always had lovely manners? Episcopal rectors (please don’t call them pastors!) tend to be preppy products of the Southern seminaries, in particular University of the South, fondly known as Sewanee, the Vatican for Southern Episcopalians. It is the be-all and end-all, located on a mountain in Tennessee, where some undergraduates, known as “gownsmen,” wear academic robes around the campus all day. This helps feed the fantasy that they’re really in Oxford, England, which Episcopalians like. Methodist preachers are less likely to dress in Brooks Brothers and clerical collar and more likely to be Bible thumpers. You’d never, for example, meet one with an alligator patch sewn on his clerical shirt, which one of our favorite Episcopal rectors sported in casual moments. These contrasting styles are important factors to keep in mind when planning your funeral.
Methodists are addicted to potluck events, a propensity manifesting itself in the funeral lunch at the church. There is a real sense of community, with all the ladies bringing their favorite casseroles or desserts. It’s a nice way to take the burden off the family. But an ex-Methodist, now firmly ensconced at St. James’, feels perhaps a bit too much of the burden is lifted. A few years at St. James’ have attuned her to the finer things in mourning. “I arrived [at a Methodist funeral] with my horseradish mousse on a cut-glass pedestal stand, and there were all these… Pyrex dishes,” she sputtered. Everybody has to look down on somebody: For Methodists, there are Baptists. “The Baptists put little bitty marshmallows on their congealed salads,” complained Methodist Lucy Mattie.
A final question: If you die a Methodist, will your friends and family enjoy the consolation of a nice, stiff cocktail? Delta Methodists are part Delta and part Methodist, which means they like a toddy now and then. Still, they aren’t quite as imbued with—how shall we put it?—the cavalier spirit as Episcopalians. The Episcopalian ideal of a gentleman is a man who, if a lady falls down drunk, will pick her up off the floor and freshen up her drink. You practically have to be on the list for your second liver transplant before a Southern Episcopalian notices that you drink too much. They’re not called Whiskypalians for nothing. One Christmas Eve at St. James’, the Shaws found Bunny Parker passed out in their pew. Bunny had spent the hours leading up to the sacred rites at the Thunderbird Lounge on Main Street—famous the length and breadth of the Delta for having a real Thunderbird inside—and the miracle was that Bunny was able to find the church at all. Probably because he’s very devout. The Shaws immediately forgave poor Bunny and, not wanting to interrupt his much-needed rest, stole somebody e
lse’s pew. It is a reasonably safe bet that being pie-eyed in church on Christmas Eve is not socially acceptable at any Methodist congregation in the Delta.
When a Methodist dies, you don’t know if you’re going to get bourbon or almond tea. If the family does break down and serve alcohol, they’re likely to get a disapproving look when the minister comes to call. He will probably cast his disapproving gaze especially at the Episcopal minister, who, if paying a courtesy call, will fairly leap at the chance of a cocktail. When a Methodist minister drinks, it’s for “purely medicinal purposes.” If you feel your family will be so devastated by your departure that they’ll require the solace of strong drink, join St. James’. Immediately.
The Ladies of St. James’ Cheese Straws
Cheese straws have been served at every known occasion. Nothing compares with home-baked cheese straws. Cheese straws baked at home are to store-bought ones as fresh asparagus is to canned asparagus.
Delta cooks are incredibly protective of their recipes; nowhere is this more apparent than with cheese straws. One matron insisted we come to her house for a private lesson before she’d share her late mother-in-law’s recipe.
Most cheese-straw recipes are pretty similar. The success depends on the cook’s technique. Fortunately, proper technique is not that difficult; it rests on scrupulosity with regard to two basic rules: Always melt your butter before adding, and watch how you add the flour. Don’t put it all in at once. Put it in slowly. Don’t knead the dough, work it lightly with your hands—just enough to blend. Purists may omit the Worcestershire and Tabasco.
Ingredients
4 cups all-purpose flour, measure before sifting
2 scant teaspoons salt
1 ½ tablespoons cayenne pepper
approximately 4 sticks salted butter, melted
4 (10-ounce) packages of extra-sharp cheese, finely shredded
5 dashes Tabasco
5 dashes Worcestershire (Lea & Perrins)
Sift the flour, salt, and cayenne together. Work the melted butter into the shredded cheese (with your hands!). Note, the recipe reads 4 sticks of butter, approximately. Use the amount of melted butter to produce a consistency appropriate to your cookie press. Incorporate the flour mixture a little at a time (still using your hands). Add the Tabasco and Worcestershire to taste. Fill the tube of the cookie press. Using the ribbon disk produces a real bite, while the smaller disc produces the familiar squiggle.
Bake at 350° for approximately 12 minutes, or until firm to the touch and slightly brown around the edges. Squiggles take only about 10 minutes.
Makes about ten dozen.
Fried Walnuts
This recipe comes from the Beyond Parsley Cookbook, which was put out by the Junior League of Kansas City. Fried walnuts have become such a standard feature of the St. James’ reception that few remember their origins do not lie deep in Delta culinary history.
Ingredients
8 cups water
4 cups English walnut halves
½ cup sugar
cooking oil
salt
NOTE: A pound of walnuts equals 4 cups.
Bring water to a boil, drop in the walnuts, and boil for one minute. Drain the nuts in a colander. Have water running very hot, or use a kettle of boiling water, and rinse.
Drain the nuts well again, immediately place them in a bowl, and coat with sugar.
Have the oil hot, and place the walnuts in the oil about one cup at a time, depending on the size of the pan. Fry until golden brown. Remove with a slotted spoon, drain, and place on wax paper in a single layer. Sprinkle with salt. Cool and store. These can be frozen in an airtight container. Left at room temperature, they remain tasty for a week.
Makes four cups of the three major food groups: salt, fat, and sugar
Lowery’s Fudge Cake
No Greenville native of a certain age will ever forget the pleasure of biting into a piece of Lowery’s fudge cake. It was sold exclusively at the old Lowery’s Motel. We still remember how it was cut into squares and neatly wrapped in wax paper. After the Lowery ladies died and the motel restaurant became but a fond memory, custody of the fudge-cake recipe was passed to another lady of the church. It still arrives for the reception in perfect squares, wrapped in the traditional wax paper, though now the ladies of the Pastoral Care Committee unwrap it and arrange it on a silver tray. It never lasts long.
Ingredients
2 sticks butter
4 squares semisweet chocolate
1 ¾ cups sugar
4 eggs
1 cup flour, sifted
pinch of salt
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup chopped pecans
Preheat oven to 300°. Melt the butter and chocolate together. Add the sugar. Stir until melted. Cool slightly. With a wooden spoon, mix in the eggs, one at a time. Fold in flour and salt. Add vanilla and chopped pecans.
Some people like a lot of vanilla and a lot of nuts. I suggest 1 teaspoon vanilla and 1 cup chopped nuts. Sometimes more is better, Mies.
Pour the mixture into a buttered 9 x 11-inch pan. Bake for about 40 minutes. Start testing at 30 or 35 minutes. To be a purist, your straw for testing should come straight from the broom.
Florence Metcalfe’s Variations:
Florence Metcalfe, Harley’s mother and Gayden’s mother-in-law, adapted the recipe and made it even lighter and more delicious. She separated the eggs and incorporated the yolks one at a time into the sugar. She then whipped the egg whites and folded them into the mixture. (The whites are beaten until they can hold a soft but not stiff peak.)
Makes eighteen squares
Million-dollar Pound Cake
This pound cake is served at St. James’ receptions. As an offering to take to the house, it can’t be beat. Not only is it a good dessert, but it also can be toasted in the morning for breakfast. Jane Hovas, a neighbor and one of the best Presbyterian cooks around, provided this recipe. Her original came from Southern Living magazine. It had been sent in by a friend of Jane’s. We’ve tinkered with it over the years.
Ingredients
1 pound butter, softened
3 cups sugar
6 eggs
4 cups all-purpose flour
¾ cup milk
1 teaspoon almond extract
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Preheat the oven to 300°. Cream the butter; gradually add the sugar. Beat well. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating after each. Add the flour to the creamed mixture, alternating with milk. Begin and end with flour. Do not overmix. Add the flavorings.
Pour batter into a greased-and-floured tube pan (10-inch tube pan or 10-cup pan). Bake for 1 ½ hours, or until slightly firm to the touch. Cool in pan for ten minutes.
Serves twelve.
Mason-Dixon Curried Chicken Salad
You don’t want the table to be monochromatic. There are about a thousand chicken salad recipes floating around the Delta. Not only is this one delicious, but because of the curry, it also adds a certain color to the table. Our curry powder south of the Mason-Dixon tends to be generic and weak, but it still adds a delightful zing. Three tablespoons of it is fine. However, 1 ½ of the real thing is quite sufficient. Remember, the taste amplifies as it chills.
Ingredients
4 to 5 pounds chicken breasts (dark meat is a no-no in chicken salad)
butter
¼ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon pepper
2 ½ cups homemade mayonnaise
2 tablespoons soy sauce
½ lemon
1 ½ to 3 tablespoons curry powder
1 (10-ounce) package slivered almonds
2 cups sliced celery
2 (5-ounce) cans sliced water chestnuts, drained and rinsed
White seedless grapes, optional
Preheat oven to 350°.
Wipe the chicken breasts with butter, then sprinkle with salt and pepper. Wrap tightly in aluminum foil and place in a shallow pan. Bake for approximately 1 hour. C
ool and cube the chicken. Mix the mayonnaise, soy sauce, lemon juice (a nice squeeze of fresh lemon), salt, and pepper. Start by adding 1½ tablespoons curry powder—gradually add more as you go.
Using a baking sheet, spread the almonds in a single layer, coat with butter, and toast until golden brown, about 15 minutes.
Add the mayonnaise mixture, water chestnuts, sliced grapes, and toasted almonds to cubed chicken. Correct seasoning and chill well.
Serves ten.
Virginia’s Butter Beans
Although this recipe comes from the late Virginia Owens, a St. James’ parishioner, Virginia’s Butter Beans are made by everybody in town, and we can see why. The crumbled bacon is the crowning glory.
Ingredients
6 slices bacon, fried and crumbled
¼ to ¾ cup minced green onions (or yellow onions, if you please)
cup minced celery
cup bell pepper, minced
2 large cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons flour
2 cups drained canned tomatoes
Salt and pepper to taste
2 tablespoons brown sugar
2 (10-ounce) boxes frozen butter beans, cooked and drained
Preheat the oven to 350°.
Fry the bacon, remove from pan and crumble. In the same pan sauté the minced vegetables in the bacon grease. Add the flour, tomatoes, salt, pepper, and brown sugar. Add the cooked and drained butter beans. Adjust the seasonings, pour into a casserole, and top with crumbled bacon. Bake until bubbly.