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Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, December 22, 1929, Image 93

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TON, D. C*., DECEMBER 22. 1020.
'mortal A ward Stories SB BY ROBERT E. SHERWOOD
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“So you /«*// me /or a fog-horn! ts ell, uhat are yon bumming around here for
nou'? / advise you to make yourself scarce before he gets home."
surveyed dim with deliberate satisfaction. “You
look to me like a common bum. I always knew
you'd never get anywhere.”
"I guess you were right.”
He smiled as he said this. Mrs. Burchall was
irritated by the easy good humor of his tone,
by the calm confidence of his eyes.
“Why did ycu do it?” she asked.
“I don’t know. It was a rainy night, and I
heard a fog-horn out in the river.”
“So you left me for a fog-horn!"
“Yes—l knew you'd be all right. Your people
had money, and I sent some.”
“A lot you sent."
“I guess it wasn't much —but it was all I
could scrape together.”
“w ai Aj, wnat are you bumming around here
for now? What do you want? More
money? Well, you won't get it. Not one nickel
I told Fred Burchall if you ever showed up he
was to kick you right cut. And he'd do it, too!
I advise you to make yourself scarce before he
gets home.”
“Don’t worry, I’m going. My ship sails at 6.”
“Oh, your ship sails, does it! I’ll bet it’s a
fine ship.” She laughed at the mental picture
of any ship on which Roy Whidden could ob
tain employment. “How did you ever find out
where I live?”
“Oh, 1 kept track of you through the bank.
I knew when you got the divorce and got mar
ried again.”
“Well, then, why didn’t you leave me alone?
What did you come snoopin’ around here for?”
“Just curiosity. I wanted to see what the boy
looks like.”
“Well—you’ve seen him.”
“Yes, I’ve seen him. That’s all I wanted."
He straightened up and started to move away.
“Well—good-by, Em.”
“Gcod-by, and I hope you enjoy yourself or:
that ship of yours.”
He was walking away down the street when
suddenly she called to him: Roy!” He stopped
abruptly in response to that well remembered
“There was something I meant to ask you,”
she said with an unusual hesitancy. “What—
what was that extra about?”
He rubbed his none-too-smo. th chin and
thought for an instant.
Christmas Dinners in Old Virginia: *
Continued from Third Page
public as terrapin, they would be overcome with
mortification, but to the gentlemen of Eastern
Shore and the Chesapeake Bay country, terra
pin was terrapin, and there was no other way
to cook it.
“Boil the terrapin 45 minutes, or until the
head will pull off easily. Remove the thin gray
skin and under shell, cut out the gall most
carefully. Dice the whole remainder and put
into a stew pan holding not less than two
“Add one teaspoonful salt,
“One-half teaspoonful cayenne,
“Two tablespoonfuls Worcestershire,
“Two ounces of port wine,
“Two ounces of sherry,
“Six ounces cream.
“Dredge very well with flour and boil 2 min
utes. Add one-quarter pound of butter and
serve as soon as melted.”
While we are speaking of the Chesapeake
Bay country, many are the eulogies of the can
vasback duck. In the days of which we write
“duck was canvasback, sir, the only kind
that a gentleman would eat, sir,” and it was
not uncommon when there were guests for din
ner to see six, eight or ten of these choicest
cf all water fowl on the serving dish, and only
the breasts were taken off of each one. It has
also often been told that there were probably
only about four people in the world who could
tell a canvasback from a red head after it
was cooked, and one of those for whom in
fallibility was claimed was the famous restau
rauteur, Jimmy Jones of Norfolk, but Jimmy
Jones was of relatively recent times, and today
when we are lucky enough to get any kind of
wild ducks to grace our table, the prodigality
of the past is almost unbelievable. From Tide
water Virginia come these instructions for pre
paring wild ducks as they were served in that
“Pick, dress and wash wild duck, being espe
cially careful not to leave them in water, as
soaking destroys the flavor. If there is any fishy
odor about the ducks rub them lightly with a
piece of onion and put three or four raw cran
berries in each duck before cooking it; adjust
the wings and legs, and run a skewer through,
so as to keep them in place. It is not unusual
to stuff wild ducks; just put a few raw cran
berries and a few small onions in them. Rub
well with butter and put one tablespoonful of
butter in the duck; place in a hot baking pan,
pour one gill of boiling water in the bottom
of the pan, and stir into the water one tea
spoonful of salt; put in a very hot oven, baste
well every five minutes, first with butter melt
ed, and water in the bottom of the pan, aft
erward with the drippings. When done serve
with their own gravy poured over them. It
is hard to prescribe the exact length of time
for cooking wild duck, because of the differ
ence of size and age, as well as for the differ
ence in taste, some persons liking them very
rare, while others like them well done.”
Many of the Chesapeake Bay huntsmen like
their duck cooked only 20 minutes in a very
hot oven, but this is not usually cooked enough
for the average person. The inseparable dishes
that should always be served with wild duck
are applesauce and wild rice. If this latter is
not obtainable, coarse hominy makes a de
lightful substitute.
As a curious commentary on the domestic
economy then in vogue, one of the delightful
dishes of the “day after” was “duck soup,”
held in the same high esteem as "turkey hash.”
Again I draw on my old cook book for this
peculiarly piquant and savory soup.
“Cut off neat bits, as much as possible, of
the meat from the ducks that have been served
roasted. Break up all the bones and trim
mings, cut up several onions very fine, and
add enough water to cover all well. Let sim
mer gently for three or four hours and. Just
before ready to serve, take out the bones, sea
son well and add enough sherry or cider to
complete the seasoning.”
It has often been argued that the wild tur
key should be the American national bird in
stead of the bald eagle, and there is no doubt
that in Colonial times the wild turkey was
very generally distributed all over this country.
It is more than probable the early Puritan
"Let's see,” he said. "It was something
about . . . no, that was later. I guess I’ve
"Was it about the world series?” she asked,
as though trying desperately hard to prompt
him. “The morning papers were full cf It. Was
it about that?”
He smiled with relief. “Os course—that was
it! The Ked Sox won.”
* (Copyright. 1929.)
Thanksgiving was celebrated over a wild tur
key, and all through the history of Colonial
Virginia we find constant reference to thi«
grandest of all nature’s contributions to man’s
food. To have been on a turkey hunt, to have
seen the flash and sheen of a great strutting,
blue-black gobbler as he calls, and felt the
excitement of the luring of this most wary of
all game birds, is to have known a sensation
that burns itself into the memory as the un
forgettable culmination of all hunting experi
ences. Turkey hunting still remains an op
portunity for many, but I do not think there
have been any improvements on the way of
preparing a wild turkey for the table from
that recorded many years ago.
“Cut off the head, remove every feather,
taking the largest first. When all the feathers
are off. wash the fowl carefully and look to
see that no feathers have been left on. It is
best to pick the fowl dry. After dressing the
fowl, prepare a stuffing of bread crumbs and
celery, or bread crumbs and chestnuts. Always,
lard the breasts or lay a buttered paper ov«®
them, as the meat of a wild turkey is very dry.
Roast carefully before the fire, basting fre
quently with melted butter. Serve with gravy
and cranberry sauce.”
One generally associates the cranberry of
turkey fame with the bogs of New Jersey and
Massachusetts, but in reality the tidal swamps
of Eastern Virginia were also the natural home
of this peculiarly American berry, and from
earlier times up to now, the wild cranberries
have been gathered locally, and used for mak
ing cranberry jelly or sauce, for serving as a
companion for wild turkey, these two forming
an almost inseparable combination for American
holiday dinners.
“Put the cranberries, after carefully picking
out defective ones, into a kettle with Just enough
water to prevent burning, and stew until the
whole becomes a homogeneous mass, with no
semblance of whole berries, stirring all the time.
Then add the clarified syrup, which should be
previously prepared, and stir a few minutes
while boiling. The syrup is made by allowing
a quart of water to three pounds of sugar.
Allow equal weights of fruit and sugar.”
Today the deer hunt is the chance of a
lifetime, the turkey hunt a thrill that does
not come often, but to most of us who have
lived or spent some time in the country, memo
ries flash back oftenest to the call of the “Bob
White” in the wheat stubble. This gleaner
of fallen grain, this little brown chicken V
nature lives on, raises her brood and whistlw
at sunset her familiar call. It does not take
much prodding of the imagination to picture
the Autumn glories of the woods, afire with
color, the com shocks, the straw stacks and
the sedge field; and more than all old Don
working down the corn rows, and you yourself
with your gun following on behind. He stands,
you send him on, then a whir, the covey is up,
and you fire; and there goes crashing down
the most delicious of all nature's chickens, the
partridge. It is only when you yourself have
ranged the woods and fields behind your dog,
with your own gun, and brought in your own
birds, that you can know the surging thrill of
the hunter when he comes home at the end
of the day, tired, but more than repaid by
what nature has put in his bag. It is fortu
nate for us that partridges continue to thrive,
even as civilization advances and there cease
to be any backwoods or frontiers. As a table
delicacy there is nothing that intrigues the
appetite to the same extent that broiled part
ridge does. Those of us who migrate back and
forth between the city and the country often
have the opportunity of eating this most de
lightful morsel of nature's providing, but ohs
• how often is what should be the most dainty
and delicious of all game absolutely spoiled in
the cooking. The recipe for cooking which is
given here is one that has been passed on from
generation to generation, and will go on being
the simplest and yet the most satisfactory way
of serving quail.
“To broil partridges, pick them, singe and
wipe nicely with a wet cloth; split down the
back, dust with salt and pepper, and rub well %
with melted butter. Butter a broiler and broil
over a bed of clear coals, turning constantly.
Allow 7 minutes to each side for broiling; butter
twice during the broiling. Serve hot with a
little melted butter poured over each bird.”

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