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Updated: June 26, 2025
Another way is to cook the grillades without garlic, and add to them along with the tomatoes half a pint of tender okra well washed and sliced.
It runs 'em right through to the back an' kills 'em like a shot, and that's the way I cal'late the youth in Ashy dies, if my entomology is correct, as it gen'ally is." "Don't seem an easy death to me," argued Okra, "but I ain't no scholard. What college did thou attend to, Tim?"
Sarah relates that the slaves did not marry, but were forced in many cases against their will to live together as man and wife. It was not until after slavery that they learned about the holy bonds of matrimony, and many of them actually married. Cotton, corn, and rice were the chief products grown on the Donaldson plantation. Okra also was grown, and from this product coffee was made.
It was evident with the garden as an index that the boarders at King's Crest were fed on more than milk and honey. Randy picked the okra and carried it to the kitchen, and returning to the Schoolhouse found the Major opening his morning mail. Randy sat down on the step. "Once upon a time," he said, "we had niggers to work in our gardens. And now we are all niggers."
He has nice eyes." Mrs. Paine left the topic as negligible, and turned to more important things. "Randy, would you mind picking a few pods of okra for the soup? Susie is so busy and Bob and Jefferson are both in the field." "Certainly, Mother," his cool answer gave no hint of the emotions which were seething within him. Becky's fate was hanging in the balance, and his mother talked of okra!
The Major's keen eyes studied him. "What's the matter?" "I've been picking okra for soup, and I'm a Paine of King's Crest." "Well, you peeled potatoes in France." "That's different." "Why should it be different? If a thing is for the moment your job you are never too big for it." "I wish I had stayed in the Army. I wish I had never come back." The Major whistled for a moment, thoughtfully.
"Did yuh, Edwin?" "All the other fellows only got seventy and eighty." "Mamma's boy leads 'em." He entered at that, submitting to a kiss upon an averted cheek. "See what mother's fixed for you!" "M-m-m-m! fritters!" "Don't touch!" "M-m-m-m lamb stew!" "I shopped all morning to get okra to go in it for your father." "M-m-m-m-m!"
This grows in the shape of pods, and is of a gelatinous character, much used for soup, and is also pickled; it may be boiled as follows: Put the young and tender pods of long white okra in salted boiling water in granite, porcelain or a tin-lined saucepan as contact with Iron will discolor it; boil fifteen minutes; remove the stems, and serve with butter, pepper, salt and vinegar if preferred.
Becky's fate was hanging in the balance, and his mother talked of okra! He had decided some weeks ago that boarders were disintegrating and that a mother was not a mother who had three big meals a day on her mind. He went into the garden.
Her faded bonnet fell back between her shoulders, hanging on by the strings, and her dropped basket, with its "few lill' bécassines-de-mer" dangling from the handle, rolled out its okra and soup-joint upon the floor. "Ma piti! kiss! kiss! kiss!" "But is it good news you have, or bad?" cried the girl, a fourth or fifth time. "Dieu sait, ma c'ère; mo pas conné!" God knows, my darling; I cannot tell!
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