52 Ancestors - Week 14 - Favorite Recipe

52 Ancestors - WEEK 14 - FAVORITE RECIPE    

By Cynthia Keefer Patton

I suppose if you ask anyone, "what is your favorite recipe?", the answer will be as varied as the flowers in the fields. One of my favorite recipes was made by my mother-in-law. She was born and raised in south Mississippi and almost everything starts with a roux. Lots of things are fried, and there are a lot of onions and green peppers showing up as well.

This recipe is called "Corned Beef Hash" but it is not at all what you would expect. She always made it in a cast iron pot. You start by making roux with half and half oil and flour. The more you want, the larger the quantity of each. This recipe I use 1/2 cup of each. You have to stir your roux constantly. Let it get almost as black as the pot, or at least very, very rich brown. Use a wooden spoon to stir.

Have the onions and peppers already prepared (1 cup each chopped). Throw them in the hot roux to cook for 5 or so minutes. They might spit. Add a couple teaspoons of chopped garlic. Have 1 cup of luke warm water waiting to add and start thinning the mixture. Open two cans of corned beef and shred it with a fork on a plate. Add that to the pot and more water as needed. Last but not least, add a can of cooked sliced potatoes. If you love potatoes, add another can.

Cook until the flavors mingle. Serve over hot rice (I prefer Mahatma or jasmine rice). ALWAYS serve with a pan of buttermilk biscuits. Bake them close together in a cake pan and they will rise and be fat. Brush them on both sides with the oil in the pan and you won't need butter!

This is a hearty meal and makes for great memories. To this day, my grown son will ask me for this comfort food on a cold winter night.

52 Ancestors - Week 13 - Worship

 52 Ancestors - WEEK 13 - WORSHIP    

By Cynthia Keefer Patton

My mom was born in Washington, Pennsylvania and up there people said the word worship as "washup" and the word washing (as in washing machine) as "worshing". So, I found this all quite amusing when I was a small girl and when she would tell us we would go to church to "washup" I was a little confused.

Fast forward to 2024. Mom has been gone from us six years and as the Easter holiday approaches I can't help but wish I would go once more with her to worship at an Easter Sunday service. We were raised Methodist, my father being from the United Brethren before they merged with the Methodist. Church was a big part of our life. Not every Sunday, but most Sundays. Sunday school (my father taught adult classes) and then Worship. After that we would fellowship a while with other members and then off to a great dinner out at something called the Picadilly Cafeteria in Atlanta, Georgia.

We could each take a tray and go down the line asking the servers for this and that to our little hearts desire. With six children in our family I am sure it was pretty expensive even for that time period in the 1960's. Other times we would head straight out to a local lake with a big picnic basket full of fried chicken, potato salad, cookies and lemonade. We would swim and play in the sand. I always loved Sundays in the summer.

As an adult I struggle with being a faithful church goer. My first husband was less than enthuiastic and my second husband cares even less. Still I go alone, just not often enough. It is not to say I am not a believer, just not always attending a worship service. My worship sometimes occurs in the late night or early morning when I speak with God, tell him my dreams and fears, pray for family, and give thanks for life. 

When I was deployed to Kuwait after 9/11, I spent my first ever Christmas away from home. My fellow Soldiers and I had a small Christmas Eve service with flashlights instead of candles. Afterwards I walked out to the edge of the airfield in the desert night and looked up at the moon and stars. I felt the presence of God keeping me connected to my family and friends far away. Probably the most impactly moment of worship in my life.

52 Ancestors - Week 11 - Achievement

52 Ancestors – WEEK 11 – Achievement

By Cynthia Keefer Patton

I sat and pondered as I looked at my family tree on Ancestry. I kept asking “who achieved something?”

Who achieved something? I have. I have completed a successful career in the Army followed by a second career as a Defense Contractor. I have farmed, renovated, and managed properties, and now spend time as a professional genealogist.

I don’t want to write about myself.

Who achieved something? My little brother Kevin Keefer. We lost him in 2013 and oh how I miss him. He achieved a lot in his life. He started out as a young teenager working for an ambulance company as an EMT. It was part of earning his Eagle Scout, which he did. A great achievement.

He left high school and went to work full-time. He saw that as something he regretted, but none of his siblings thought any less of him. He was self-sufficient and hard working. He became a firefighter, and then a respiratory therapist. He worked his way up in a volunteer fire department to become the Chief. He had three beautiful daughters and when his marriage failed, he did his best to survive.

He was troubled by the demons of the horrible and sad things he witnessed in all his occupations. He drank more than he should and smoked even though he better than anyone knew it was dangerous. He got esophageal cancer, and it took him at the age of 52.

He had achieved living a solid life, working the jobs that not everyone will take on, sowing and weeding his garden, hunting, cooking his favorite country dishes, listening to his beloved music from the 70’s, and hanging out with good friends.

He was a good man, a great brother, a father who cherished his children, and a hard worker. A great achievement.

 

 

 

52 Ancestors - Week 10 - Language

52 Ancestors - WEEK 10 - Language

By Cynthia Keefer Patton

Even though I am sure that quite a few of my ancestors might have spoken other languages: German and French in particular--the majority of them spoke English or some variation of it with an accent (those from Ireland or Wales).

But my husband Denny is another story. His mother's great-grandmother and great-grandfather on her paternal side came straight from northern Italy (Ponti di Legno, Brescia, Lombardy)  to America in 1889 and eventually to Warrensburg, Missouri where they settled and farmed. So one would think that they arrived speaking Italian. And that Denny's mother would have heard her grandparents and their other children, and her cousins, all speaking some Italian. 

Or perhaps she would have cooked some of the recipes handed down or brought over from the old country. I asked my husband if his Mom made really good pasta or some other dish. He said no. Not ever. Never. And never spoke a word of Italian. So what happened? Most likely they became so "Americanized" that they turned from the ways of the before and adapted to the ways of the new place they settled. I should try and find if any of the Catholic Church records in that location have more original information that might show that they were using their native language when they arrived.

When I go down to Warrensburg and we visit with his brothers and their kids and grandkids, there is no evidence that any of them descend from Italians. Interesting how much of a melting pot America truly is.