I may have mentioned this on my blog or in comments before, but I am going to tell you about it again for a very important reason.

When I was a small child, we (siblings and cousins all) spent summers with my grandmother. She was a hard working enterprising woman who worked a farm and had a green thumb. My uncle built her a green house. Aside from her cooking, which a vast collection of county fair ribbons proved was the best around, she could make anything green flourish and grow. She was well known for both.

On Saturday mornings, she would get up before sunrise, go out to the hen house, wring a couple to a few necks, scald off the feathers, wash and prepare the meat, and fry up a half dozen to a dozen chicken dinners, throw on some mashed potatoes and biscuits, a side of green…