...thanks to a passage in one of Daniel Woodrell's novels, in which he describes "a fried-baloney and government-cheese sandwich." Although I hadn't eaten bologna (not the hillbilly spelling) for 45 years,I've had a hankering for a fried baloney sandwich, which I've given into twice in the past month.
I know, I know: ground up animals parts, animal fats, salt, sodium nitrite; the reasons to not eat baloney are legion. My general diet is the antithesis to baloney. I'm mostly a vegetarian, w/ a small and decreasing amount of fish and chicken. I eat an anti-oxidant rich diet.
But something about memories of fried baloney made me throw restraint to the wind, albeit for a couple of days. It didn't help when a local health-food market put low-sodium bologna on sale and put the line "fried bologna sandwiches--YUM" in their weekly sales supplement.
Maybe it was because of Woodrell's courage at putting such an anti nutritionally correct scene in his book (I don't remember which one, as I read five that week). Or maybe it harkens to a comfort food from my childhood.
Woodrell describes another culinary treat of poor people in the Ozarks as the grease jar, where all the leftover grease in the frying pan--be it bacon, pork, chicken, squirrel or rabbit, and reused whenever the need for grease arises. He admits it doesn't sound very savory but claims ANYTHING cooked in it turns out tasty.
I'm not tempted by it anyway. The deadly qualities of superheated, old lard tend to discourage any nostalgic memories I have of the grease jar sitting under the sink.
However, I'm kind of curious about he describes hillbilly fast food: A bottle of Royal Crown cola half filled with peanuts.
I know, I know: ground up animals parts, animal fats, salt, sodium nitrite; the reasons to not eat baloney are legion. My general diet is the antithesis to baloney. I'm mostly a vegetarian, w/ a small and decreasing amount of fish and chicken. I eat an anti-oxidant rich diet.
But something about memories of fried baloney made me throw restraint to the wind, albeit for a couple of days. It didn't help when a local health-food market put low-sodium bologna on sale and put the line "fried bologna sandwiches--YUM" in their weekly sales supplement.
Maybe it was because of Woodrell's courage at putting such an anti nutritionally correct scene in his book (I don't remember which one, as I read five that week). Or maybe it harkens to a comfort food from my childhood.
Woodrell describes another culinary treat of poor people in the Ozarks as the grease jar, where all the leftover grease in the frying pan--be it bacon, pork, chicken, squirrel or rabbit, and reused whenever the need for grease arises. He admits it doesn't sound very savory but claims ANYTHING cooked in it turns out tasty.
I'm not tempted by it anyway. The deadly qualities of superheated, old lard tend to discourage any nostalgic memories I have of the grease jar sitting under the sink.
However, I'm kind of curious about he describes hillbilly fast food: A bottle of Royal Crown cola half filled with peanuts.
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