I am a woman searching for my inner goddess and using fabrics, words and photography as my road map. I find great comfort and order in my creative efforts and hope that in sharing them you find a peace also. Welcome and Be Blessed!

Monday, February 20, 2006

Towelbath, Tripe and Scrapple

The gun control idiots use emotion to peddle their tripe. We who believe in the God-given right to defend ourselves use logic.

GunTrash | 02.19.06 - 9:06 pm | #

Logic and guns used together and wisely will usually produce tripe-if one so desires eating that nasty stuff.

Red Queen | Homepage | 02.20.06 - 4:02 am | #

Isn't tripe the "active ingredient" in scrapple?

I'm Not Emeril | Homepage | 02.20.06 - 8:21 pm | #

To understand where these comments came from you will have to check out this post by Kilo. It is a good post but really has nothing much to do with the rest of this post.

When I was on safari in Africa my husband shot a hippo. The darned thing decided it wanted to die in the river instead of on the riverbank, and not just close to the bank but way out in the middle of the river. First the trackers (those native men who take their lives in their own hands to make sure we have a great hunt) had to wade out into the crocodile infested river to the hippo where they climbed on top and tied the cable to the hippo leg. Then we proceeded to shir all the pins but one from the winch on the professional hunters toyota. There was no way to pull the hippo up the bank so the trackers then had to stand in ankle deep water and cut the hippo in half so the load was less on the winch. My husband stood on the top of the bank with his rifle at the ready just incase one of those crocs were were watching came too close.

Why would these men risk so much for a hippo? The next day as we drove past the trackers camp area we saw this beautiful bright green stuff on racks. I asked what is was and the tracker replied Towel bath. It did look like green bath towels only I found out it was actually the stomach of the hippo turned inside out to dry- hippo stomach= hippo tripe.

When I was a little girl my grandma would make scrapple for us to eat with our breakfast. I am now jonesing some scrapple with maple syrup. The recipe follows and note no tripe need be included unless you are a Zambian tracker with a hankering for towelbath.

Philadelphia Scrapple

2 pounds pork shoulder (or pork butt)
1 whole fresh pork hock
2 cups yellow cornmeal
1 teaspoon cayenne
1 teaspoon sage
1 tablespoon salt
1 teaspoon white pepper
2 teaspoons black pepper

Cut up pork shoulder (butt) into 2 inch chunks. Place the pork chunks, pork hock, sage and cayenne in a stock pot and cover with water. Simmer for about 2 to 3 hours or until meat falls apart. Drain and reserve stock.

Pull meat from bone and chop all the meat with a knife or food processor, being careful not to grind it too fine. Set aside.

Measure 5 cups of stock and return to pot. Bring it to a simmer; add meat, cornmeal, salt and peppers, and stir constantly until thick and smooth, about 15 to 30 minutes.

Pour mixture into 2 loaf pans and refrigerate until completely chilled. Un-mold scrapple. Slice and fry until golden brown and crisp on both sides.

Makes 12 servings.


Plain Old Pennsylvania Dutch Scrapple

1/2 pound chopped raw pork
1-1/4 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon pepper
1 cup corn meal 1 medium onion, chopped
1- 1/4 quarts water

Brown onion slowly in a little fat. Add meat, seasoning and water. Cook at simmering point 20 minutes.

Add corn meal and cook over medium heat for one hour. Turn into loaf pan and cool.

Cut in slices and fry in fat until brown. Serve with gravy or tomato sauce.

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I believe that things can always be cured with a hug and a cup of tea, fixed with either a needle and thread, duct tape, WD40 or coke, and that prayer works every time. I take in strays whether in animal or childlike form. I have been mother to many for a time and this is my way of keeping up with some of those straying children that I miss. I appreciate shock value and use it often to remind people that the world is round and colorful and we are not all living in square brown cardboard boxes with little holes cut in for windows. Look for the warm fuzzies- God delivers them up fresh every day just to say- I think you are pretty darned special- so special that I have your picture up on my fridge for life and I am sending you a hug to remind you that you matter to me.

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