The Ogg Family FarmWe all know that aromas and smells trigger memories, but I heard a sound over the weekend that made me remember someplace special. I stopped by the Louisburg Cider Mill; I am unfortunately addicted to the caramels they sell by the cash register. As I stepped outside with my treasure in my hand, the screened door closed behind me. You know the kind, made of a wood frame with two large sections of screen. Don’t think security, don’t think pneumatic door closer, just remember your grandparent’s screened door. It might have had a simple metal door pull or a hand carved wooden door pull, or maybe a large thread spool. There was probably a spring, one end connected to the door, the other to the door frame. Without that, the flies and mosquitoes would have moved in! Anyway, as the door quietly “whooshed” behind me, followed by a wood on wood “clack” as it closed , I remembered the back screened door at the farm. I’m not sure why, but the farm, my Mom’s childhood, and my Grandparents have been on my mind a great deal lately. Maybe it is all the talk about pigs and pork, maybe my working on the genealogy, maybe it is just yearning for the old days, but I am once again overwhelmed with memories of the home of my great grandparents, Napoleon Boneparte and LouEmma Ogg; my grandparents, William Clyde and Minnie Florence Ogg; my uncle and aunt, Clarence and Zelma Ogg. Three generations of my family created a perfect place for me to spend some of the more important moments of my childhood.
The farm was auctioned off when my Uncle Clarence died. My aunt had passed away several years before. None of his survivors are farmers, none of us live in Richmond, Missouri, so we had an auction company come, and the house and contents were sold. Actually, the old farmhouse and the main part of the land had been sold years before when my uncle needed to retire from farming. Uncle Clarence and Aunt Zelma kept one corner section and built a new home where they lived until their deaths. So now, when I talk about the farm, I’m talking about the original farm where we spent time as children, spent holidays. The house with the giant pine tree in the front yard. I used to lie under that tree and listen to the wind softly brush its way through the pine needles. You just don’t get sounds like that here in the city. They may be there, but there are too many other sounds to overtake that soft beautiful whisper.
Other sounds I remember fondly are those of cattle mooing in the pastures, roost
ers crowing from the chicken yard, the sound of the pump handle being moved up and down, followed by the gurgling of the best tasting water in the world, splashing into our hands. And is there a sound anything like playing with the barn kittens in the hayloft? I don’t think so,! After an afternoon of running through the knee high pastures, it was time to head for that backdoor. That wonderful “whoosh….clack” was quickly followed by those memory coaxing aromas….fried chicken….mashed potatoes…homebaked breads….green beans and country ham…..cherry pie…..!
No wonder I miss the farm! No wonder I am as wide as I am tall!
The farm was auctioned off when my Uncle Clarence died. My aunt had passed away several years before. None of his survivors are farmers, none of us live in Richmond, Missouri, so we had an auction company come, and the house and contents were sold. Actually, the old farmhouse and the main part of the land had been sold years before when my uncle needed to retire from farming. Uncle Clarence and Aunt Zelma kept one corner section and built a new home where they lived until their deaths. So now, when I talk about the farm, I’m talking about the original farm where we spent time as children, spent holidays. The house with the giant pine tree in the front yard. I used to lie under that tree and listen to the wind softly brush its way through the pine needles. You just don’t get sounds like that here in the city. They may be there, but there are too many other sounds to overtake that soft beautiful whisper.
Other sounds I remember fondly are those of cattle mooing in the pastures, roost
ers crowing from the chicken yard, the sound of the pump handle being moved up and down, followed by the gurgling of the best tasting water in the world, splashing into our hands. And is there a sound anything like playing with the barn kittens in the hayloft? I don’t think so,! After an afternoon of running through the knee high pastures, it was time to head for that backdoor. That wonderful “whoosh….clack” was quickly followed by those memory coaxing aromas….fried chicken….mashed potatoes…homebaked breads….green beans and country ham…..cherry pie…..!No wonder I miss the farm! No wonder I am as wide as I am tall!
I think these memories call for one of my grandmother’s recipes. Of course, it has to be….
“Minnie Florence’s Biscuits”
2 cups self rising flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup lard chilled, yes, LARD! No substitutions!
2/3 cup buttermilk, yes, the real thing
2/3 cup heavy cream, absolutely!
all purpose flour for shaping biscuits
Melted butter for brushing tops after baking
4 tablespoons Melted butter for greasing pan
Preheat oven to 475. Throw out your cooking spray! Grab that melted butter for the pan, and pour it into your baking pan. Mix flour and salt in a medium bowl with a whisk. Add lard and crumble with your fingers until it crumbles with no pieces bigger than a pea. Just rub the flour/lard between your fingers. Make a well in the center and pour in the buttermilk and heavy cream all at once and mix with a fork
until JUST MIXED. Do not over work. The dough will be
very sticky. Dust your hands with the all purpose flour and also your work surface…I use a pastry cloth. Turn out the dough onto the flour surface and work with it so it is just coated with a very light covering of flour. Pat it out…fold it over on itself from the right, turn a half a turn and pat out again…this gives you the layers. Pat out to a 8 inch by 6 inch rectangle and cut with a 2″ biscuit cutter - DO NOT TWIST the cutter. Cut straight down and lift up. Twisting will seal the edges and your layers will be gone! Every cookbook I have gives this same warning! Grandmother Ogg knew her “stuff”!
This should give you 10-12 biscuits…you can pat your scraps out once but no more. Re working will cause the dough to become tough. Take one biscuit at a time, dip it in melted butter in baking pan, turn it over and lay it in pan. Do this to each biscuit, then bake for 15 minutes more or less…watch them so they don’t get too brown. As soon as they are perfectly golden, take them out.
My apologies to all who are on diets, be it low-fat, low-carb, low-LARD! There are recipes in the world that should remain pure, unchanged…this is one of them!
This should give you 10-12 biscuits…you can pat your scraps out once but no more. Re working will cause the dough to become tough. Take one biscuit at a time, dip it in melted butter in baking pan, turn it over and lay it in pan. Do this to each biscuit, then bake for 15 minutes more or less…watch them so they don’t get too brown. As soon as they are perfectly golden, take them out.
My apologies to all who are on diets, be it low-fat, low-carb, low-LARD! There are recipes in the world that should remain pure, unchanged…this is one of them!
