A Sense of Humor During WWII

My husband's grandfather is 2nd to the left in front kneeling ~ Forrest Pointer ~ In Iceland during WW2 at  Camp Kwitchwebelliakin, a.k.a., Camp 'They-Got-A-Sense-of-Humor' . [Snort.]


A newspaper clipping from the Pointer Family Archives.


~C

SNGF ~ Family Stories' Blog Elevator Pitch

I'm a Cheater
Okay. It's been a while since I've done Randy's Saturday Night Genealogy Fun [SNGF] [Yes. Genealogists are fun. You didn't know that?], but I knew it'd be pretty easy because I knew I could cheat use my About Page info. After all, I'd already made it pretty short [for me].


Now here's Randy's SNGF Challenge tonight [if we choose to accept it]:


1. Write an elevator speech for your blog based on Tonia Kendrick's Blog series, 31 Weeks to a Better Genealogy Blog, #31 WGBG: "Write an Elevator Pitch for Your Blog."


2. Post it on your blog, in the comments on Randy's blog, on Google+, etc.


3. Leave a comment on Tonia's Elevetaor Pitch blog post. [Lots of blog traffic link love here, folks.]


Now. Tonia recommends that your pitch should be between 100-150 words. And I thank God for that because I read a few other people's pitches before reading her suggestions, and they were a lot shorter, which kind of put a crimp on my idea to cheat use what I'd already written on my About Page. [Snort.]


So. Here's my pitch:




Dead people like to talk. And I like to listen and write their stories down. Sometimes their stories are sad. Sometimes they're happy. And sometimes they're downright naughty [if I'm lucky]. 

So. Family Stories is where I write it all down. Their bad decisions. And their good decisions. The times they got it right. And the times they couldn't have been more wrong. It's where I tell you about them in hopes that they won't be forgotten. Everything they've willingly told me. And what I've had to pull from them. They're imperfect. Just like you. And just like me. But they're mine, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

So take a look around. Read a few stories. Laugh. Cry. Shake your head in disbelief. [*snort* I do it all the time.]

For these are my family's stories.

My Gran's Gonna Kill Me

She deftly lifted the next cooked potato and keeping it in the palm of her hand, she first peeled then diced it with a sharp knife.

“Gran, aren’t you afraid of cutting your hand?”

She gave me the same response as my mom had when I’d asked her the last time she made their potato salad.

“No, Dear. I’ve been making this potato salad for a long time, and I’ve never – not once – cut myself while doing it.”

 As she worked on the next cooked potato, I studied her face – the lines crisscrossing her face, the age spots on the back of her hands, the papery thin skin covering her face and arms, her fluffy white hair sticking out from her head – and figured she knew what the heck she was doing.

My Gran must have been in her 80’s when I really watched her make her potato salad. It fascinated me how she was able to hold the cooked potatoes and eggs and dice them in her hands with a sharp knife without cutting her hands.

My mom prepped the potatoes and eggs the same way.

And so do I.

To the best of my knowledge, we’ve never – not once - cut ourselves while doing it either.

I’m pretty sure it’d taste the same if I did the dicing on a cutting board, but I take comfort in knowing that I prepare it the same way my Gran and my mom did.

However, I have added one teeny, tiny ingredient. And I’d bet the $2 that I have in my wallet [I know. I’m a big spender.] that my mom added her own “something” to the recipe. [In fact. I know she did.] I like to think it’s just another layer to the family story.

But I didn’t add this ingredient until I’d been preparing it the exact way my mother had showed me for well over 10 years. And while I’m probably gonna catch a lotta afterlife crap from my Gran for giving away her recipes, I’m still gonna share it. It’s that good. [Heck. What is she gonna do? Come back and haunt me? I wish she would. I have quite a few questions for her.]

Now. Before I give you the complete recipe, you gotta pinky swear that you will NOT change my Gran’s recipe in any way until you’ve been preparing it the same way for at least 10 years. ‘K? If you’re outta the correct ingredients, don’t substitute other crap. This should be a clear sign that it just wasn’t meant for you to make it that day. The don’ts include:

• Putting fruit or nuts in it. [This ain’t fruity or nutty potato salad. Although some of mom’s family was fruity and nutty.]
• Using turkey bacon. [This is just wrong. This ain’t potato salad for dieters.]
• Not using the bacon grease. [This is a must. Again. This ain’t potato salad for dieters.]
• Not putting the onions in it cuz you’re afraid your other half won’t kiss you after eating it. [Honey, once your other half tastes my Gran’s potato salad, you’re gonna get a lotta kisses. It’s that good. Did I mention my Gran had 8 kids?]
• Using sweet relish instead of dill relish. [Save the sweets for dessert. Like pecan or cherry pie. Besides, you’ve already jumped off the dieting deep end with the bacon grease. A piece of pie ain’t gonna make a bit of difference.]
• Using some other type of potatoes other than the regular Russett potatoes. [My Gran’s Gran, Annie O’Brien, was from Ireland, and I have not one potato recipe passed down through my Gran that included golden potatoes, red potatoes, and the like. Save those for your new found fancy schmancy potato recipes. This recipe needs no razzle and dazzle to impress. Hello? Bacon grease.]
• Using more or less of something because you think you know better. [Trust me. My Gran knew better than you.]

Ingredients

• 7 Medium-Large sized Russett Potaoes [I buy the 5# bag, and use the leftovers to make mashed potatoes and my Gran’s potato pancakes with the mashed potato leftovers. Haven’t made up my mind yet if I’m gonna share that recipe with you. It's my Gran's Gran's potato pancake recipe. We’ll see how this goes.]
• 7 Large eggs
• 4 pieces of thick-sliced bacon
• Bacon grease from frying the 4 pieces of bacon
• 2 stalks of celery
• 1 medium-sized sweet onion [It’s not really sweet, so we’re not breaking the whole “This ain’t sweet-tasting potato salad” rule, and it’s one of my mom’s substitutions.]
• 1 Tablespoon of Dill [not sweet] relish
• 1 Tablespoon of mustard [Just the plain ol’ yellow kind. No Dijon-like crap.]
• 1 Tablespoon of white vinegar
• 2 teaspoons of Slap Ya Mama Cajun seasoning [The one with a yellow label.] [This would be my addition to my Gran’s recipe. In fact, I use it in *everything*. You can purchase it online here. So there's absolutely no excuse for you not having this on hand.]
• Mayonnaise, about 1 cup but add ½ a cup at a time.
• Salt to taste

Instructions

1. Rinse the potatoes [don't peel before cooking] and put them and the 7 eggs in a big pot just covering them with water. Place on high heat and bring to a boil. Boil for 20-25 minutes.
2. While the potatoes and eggs are boiling, dice the celery and the onions well. No big chunks. [The potato and the bacon are the stars of this show, folks.]
3. When the potatoes and eggs are done, drain the boiling water out of the pot placing the hot potatoes and eggs in a colander to cool.
4. While they're cooling, fry the bacon in the same pot until crispy but not burnt. [This way there's only one pot to clean and the grease can't pop onto your shirt and ruin it. My mama didn't raise no fool.] Don't cook the bacon in the oven or microwave. Fry. It.
5. Once the bacon is fried completely, take the bacon strips out of the pot with tongs and drain them on some paper towels. Place the pot with the grease to the side to cool a bit.
6. Peel the 7 hard boiled eggs.
7. Place the 7 cooled cooked potatoes and the 7 hard boiled eggs in a big plastic bowl.
8. Peel the skin off the cooked potatoes with a knife [like a paring knife] and dice the potatoes and the eggs. No. You don't have to do it in the palm of your hand. In fact, if you're not related to my Gran, I wouldn't try that. Just make sure the diced potato pieces are on the medium side. Not too big and definitely not too small. [We're not making potato soup here.]
9. Once done with the potato and egg dicing, use both your hands to mix the pieces around. Yes. Use your hands, not a spoon.
10. Add the diced celery and onion to the potato and egg mixture and toss again with your hands.
11. Crumble the 4 slices of crispy [but not burned] bacon strips and toss into this mixture. Yes. With your hands.
12. Add the 1 Tablespoon of dill [not sweet] relish to the mixture and toss with your [you guessed it] hands.
13. Add all the leftover bacon grease from the pot, the mustard, and the vinegar to the mixture and stir it all carefully all with a big spoon just until it's mixed. [I use my big sturdy bamboo wooden spoon. I guess you could use some other kind just so long as it's sturdy.] 
14. Add the Slap Ya Mama seasoning. [I just love the name of this stuff. And it tastes perfect. My Cajun neighbor introduced me to it, and it's made in the same little town she's from, Ville Platte, Evangeline Parish, Louisiana, which also happens to be a parish away from where my Gran was born there in Louisiana. Connections, folks. They're everywhere.]
15. Now. Add the mayonnaise a 1/2 cup at a time. Why? Because my Gran's potato salad is not that wet and drippy kind of potato salad. It's just not. It's hearty. The potatoes break up a little while mixing and while it's not creamy, per se, it's definitely not cubed potatoes with mayonnaise dripping off of it either. So. It's better to add a little mayonnaise at a time because you can always add a little more, but once you've ruined the potato salad with too much mayonnaise, it's ruined. I don't care how much you love mayonnaise, it ain't the star of my Gran's potato salad.
16. Before just adding salt blindly, taste test the potato salad. If you think it needs salt, add it. If not, then don't.
17. Chill for at least 2 hours or overnight.
18. Sprinkle a little Slap Ya Mama on top before serving cuz it makes it look pretty.

Remember that this stuff is good, and will go fast. Especially the 2nd time you make it. So. It's perfectly acceptable to get your serving right after you make it. After all, you're the one who took the time and trouble to follow Gran's recipe and it should be properly taste-tested to make sure that you've made it correctly.

This is what it looks like after you've taken your portion and placed the rest in a serving dish:

After all have taken their portion and then some, this is what it'll look like afterwards:

Not really this yellow. Added a filter cuz it made it look better. =)

Lastly, I won't be there to see if you've changed things around with the recipe. But my Gran will probably be watching you to see if you do it right. And if you do see her, please tell her to come and pay me visit. I have some questions for her.

Who The Hell Is This Etiquette Guy?

“Shit.”

“What?”

“Looks like Mom forgot to pack the plastic forks.”

“So. How are we gonna eat the potato salad?”

“Well. She didn’t forget the plastic knives.  We can use those.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Yawning, I couldn’t have cared less how my brother and dad were going to eat that potato salad. I hated potato salad. I didn’t give 2 hoots about anything that had mayonnaise, eggs, onion, and celery. The only things it really had going for it, in my 10-year-old opinion, were the mustard, potatoes, and bacon. In fact, the only thing it was missing from my “There’s-no-way-I’m-gonna-eat-that-crap” list was tomatoes. Yuck.

“Caroline, do you want some potato salad?”

“Nope. Just baked beans and my chicken leg. Please.” 

God, how I loved my mom’s fried chicken. Especially when we’d been fishing all morning from dawn until just after noon. Those donuts we had back at 4 o’clock this morning before putting the boat in the bay hadn’t been intended to last that long and my tummy was growling.

“Caroline? I don’t think you’re gonna be able to eat those baked beans with a knife.” How about 2 chicken legs and some potato salad?”

With an “Are you crazy?” look on my face, I told my dad in no uncertain terms that there was no way on God’s green earth that I was gonna eat that potato salad.

He just shook his head, scooped up what I’d asked for, added a plastic knife, and handed it over. I tore into that cold fried chicken like I hadn’t eaten like, well, since, 4 o’clock this morning. 


Then I attempted the bake beans with a knife. Have you ever attempted to eat baked beans with a plastic knife? Yeah. Well. I don’t suggest it. Even if you are starving. It’s not easy. I quickly ate as much as I could. Then ate the rest of my chicken.

But I was still hungry. I tried to look everywhere else but at my brother’s and dad’s plates piled high with Mom’s potato salad. I watched a bird swoop down towards the water. I saw a fish come to the surface causing a small ripple in the water. I focused on one of the islands that made up the area of the bay where we’d been fishing all morning. Then I looked back at their plates. The potato salad. The piles weren’t as high anymore.

Then I focused on the island once more. My eyes began to droop as the boat gently rocked back and forth. I closed my eyes briefly and filled my lungs with the salty air. I heard more birds off in the distance.

I opened my eyes again. Just staring at that potato salad. My stomach growled. I licked my lips

.

“Caroline? Are you sure you don’t want some potato salad? Here. Try some”

My dad handed me some on a paper plate. I hesitantly picked up my plastic knife. Barely dipped it into the potato salad. Brought it to my nose. Sniffed. My stomach growled. It smelled so good. I stuck out my tongue. Licked some of it off the knife. And?

My mouth watered.

I quickly swallowed it and dug in for more. Each knife-full was better than the last. It was tangy. The juxtaposition of the crispy fried bacon and the soft potatoes was to die for. The crunch of the onion and the celery? Divine.

Each ingredient complimented the other.  It was perfect.

Before I knew it, I was done. I licked the knife. I licked the paper plate. I hadn’t even left any on my plate for Etiquette’s sake, like my Gran always used to tell me to do.

I figured Etiquette could get his own mom’s dang potato salad.

My potato salad, which was my mom's potato salad. Before that is was my Gran's, & one day, it will be my daughter's.