This is my third lesson . . .
In memory of our grandmothers
"Morning Amber,
I woke up early wanting to go through Gradma's notes for cooking and here is
what I found. You might have to play with this some because I translated it
to english sometime back. But it does work because I've used it myself.
INDIAN FRY BREAD
2 1/2 cups Flour
4 tsp. Baking Powder
1/2 tsp. Salt
1 tbsp. Sugar
3/4 to 1 cup Milk
DIRECTIONS
1. Mix all ingredients together.
2. Add enough milk to make a soft dough.
3. Divide dough into balls the size that will roll out the shape of a taco shell.
4. I like to hand pat here but you can use a rolling pin (remember not too
thick).
5. Poke holes in the middle of the shell.
6. Fry in deep fat (lard if you have it or beacon grease adds flavor) until golden brown.
7. Top with honey or powdered sugar or maybe cinnmon/sugar.
When I was little grandma and Mom lived near a river bank. Us girls would collect wild berries. Grandma would mash them up and spread them over our bread as an added treat. The juice was severed in iced tea or just by its self in a chilled glass. My Mom, having a fridge would sometimes pour the juice into ice cube trays and freeze them for us to have on the back porch in the evening before bed. Boy what a flood of memories are rushing before my eyes right now. You know we weren't rich but the bond between me and my grandma is worth more than any King's gold . . . I hope you enjoy making the bread and memories with your loved ones. Use your own toppings too.
Love Ya, Country"
Hi Country,
Geoffrey and I talked about learning about being Cherokee together. I told him how both of my great grandmothers were Indian. I told him how Cherokee is also called Tsa la gi. He laughed and said "I'm not a indian, where are my feathers?" We looked at an encyclopedia of North American history together. Then he asked me if that was why my hair is long? I remember a fry bread that grandma used to make. Her father taught her and told her it was something he loved that her mama made for him. Also, she said if I washed my hands in salt after cutting onions it would take away the smell. That's the extent of what was taught to me from my heritage . . . I don't even have a recipe for her fry bread, but I loved it. My grandma died in 1985. My family lived in the Oklahoma/Arkansas area. Grandpa Roy Dobson lived near Muskogee, OK most of his life. We (my mother and her children) were in Norman for a while, then went back to Arkansas where my grandma had an 80 acre farm for 15 yrs in the Fort Smith, Ark. area. I love the mountains north of Fort Smith. Other than that, the Dobson's started out in NC, then moved to Georgia. The Goforth's began in Tennesee, moved to Texas about the same time as Daniel Boone, then traveled on to AR (that's always been the story my grandma told me). The family stayed in Indian Territory until grandma's mother died when she was 6 in 1928. (I have found 2 names of my family listed on the Dawes Rolls; John Fink and Margaret Lindsey. Just in case anyone chooses to check this out and follow up on their own.) My Great Grandpa (and his new wife Gladys) actually left his 10 year old daughter in OK when work gave out. Gramma came home to find her clothes and personal items in a box with a note telling her to go to the preacher's house. The preacher wouldn't keep her so she fended for herself hiring out as household help during the depression. Her father lost contact with her for years. Funny how verbal history is passed down. Big chunks get left out, but it makes you feel part of something.
My gramma was an incredible lady. She put herself through beauty school. She supported my mother by herself after her husband left. She became financially secure and when she married for the second time in 1959, she asked her husband to have a vasectomy. He, in turn, checked her teeth! Gramma worked an acre garden by herself. She canned all their food, made beer in the basement, and raised their own meat. She adored her barn cats and guineas. She had peacocks for watchdogs. She was loyal, and kind, but would only take so much off of people. I knew she loved me without a shadow of a doubt . . . and I loved HER with my whole heart.
Well Country,
I now have a big plate of golden brown fry bread! I used my old cast iron skillet. Geoffie wouldn't put his hands in that dough for anything! He was so funny! You forgot to mention we'd need extra flour for hands and the board! LOL! My buddy opted for honey with his, and I ate my piece plain . . . kinda like old fashioned fried doughnuts when you sweeten them up! Now I remember why we loved them!
This weekend, I learned that frybread is a result of Government issued commodities. Interesting.
November 06, 2001
Geoffrey and I are in agreement! The tradition of frybread needed updating until I find a chance to practice the old recipe. We now buy frozen white bread dough, thaw it, cut it up and deep fry it. It's our favorite dipped in raw sugar and cinnamon! This is a re-established tradition . . .
April 17th, 2003
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