Catfish? That's not a panfish. I grew up eating sunfish, bluegills and such, really whatever Dad could catch. The closest we came to catfish were bullheads and suckers. There would be sucker runs in the spring near where we lived. As a fish, they left a lot to be desired with tiny barbed bones throughout the flesh making them difficult to eat. I didn't much care for bullheads, either. They looked like small catfish, same whiskers and skin. Yeah, skin. They had to be skinned. Dad had a flare for doing that. I never did get the hang of it. I preferred bluegills.

Our next Memoir Writing Class will be May 9th at 9:30 A.M. at the Senior Center in Maynardville. All are welcome!

Our previous class on April 26th was very interesting. Gertie Brummitt King, the author of “Alex Haley, The Man I Knew,” brought a copy of the book. It was good to listen to the experiences of a published author. We hope she continues to attend our class. Her input is welcome. Everyone is welcome. We all have to start somewhere. This Thursday would be just fine.

A number of years ago I found a cookbook at a thrift store that didn't follow the usual pattern for cookbooks. This one had Canadian recipes in it. How would that be different from any other cookbook, you ask? Well, for instance, it had recipes in it for carabou. Food City doesn't carry reindeer meat. There were also a few other exotic foods that we don't find in East Tennessee.

One recipe seemed to jump off the page, yelling “Try me!” So I did. It had a different name in the book, but I re-named it “Canadian Hamburger Vegetable Soup.” It is easy and delicious.

Do you remember S & H Green Stamps? How about Top Value Stamps? Or Gold Bond Stamps? The S & H Green Stamps stick in my mind. I have a few in a scrapbook somewhere. I collected them religiously. That means faithfully, constantly, conscientiously and with devotion. They had a sucker in tow. That sucker was me. If there was a special with extra green stamps I was there. Hopefully, it was for something I really needed, not just to fill out a book of stamps.

Today, radio programming consists mostly of music and talk shows. It wasn't always that way. Back in the day, the late thirties and World War II days, drama ruled the airwaves. In the movie, “Oh Brother, Where Art Thou” there is a scene near the end showing an elderly couple sitting close to their radio listening to the political rally our hero was participating in. That scene has an element of truth in it. That was what we did – sit near the radio listening to the dramas being presented that evening. You knew better than to utter a word while the story line played out.

I have always liked the taste of rhubarb. It is especially welcome after a winter of eating mostly canned fruit. Mother made rhubarb pie when the stalks were crisp and full of juice. We always had plants growing somewhere around the garden spot. Rhubarb doesn't demand much. Enough moisture to keep it alive during the hot summer months is about it. It is one of the first things up in the spring.

Some say there is nothing new under the sun. I disagree. There is always a new diet making the rounds. You can be sure that after the Thanksgiving and Christmas holiday season the television will be overflowing with them. Old diet plans resurface with a new twist. Who do they think they're kidding? Those slim adolescent beauties were never fat. Put a fifty year old overweight mama of six kids on their diet plan and see if she is not a bunch of wrinkles. That is, if she is able to stay on their diet.

About twenty years ago, I was the kitchen manager at the Hickory Star Restaurant on Norris Lake. Always looking for new recipes, I came across this one. With a little tweaking, it became my own. First, let me tell you about my time at Hickory Star.

Lefty Frizzell sang a song about Saginaw, Michigan. He sang about the fancy houses the lumber barons of yesteryear built on Mansion Row. We didn't live in that part of town. We lived on the west side. Our house was the only one on a block in a working class neighborhood that never really took off. There was only one tree.

The tree wasn't a stately oak or a majestic elm. It was a young box elder tree growing near the driveway out near the street. No one planted it there. It just grew. That was a set up for trouble.

Wow! Look at those prices: Lime Ade, 5 cents; Sliced Ham Sandwich, 10 cents. I can't read the rest of the prices, but they were in line with what I could see. Look at those stools? You don't see any like them anymore. There were fountain cokes, homemade pies and cakes, and glazed doughnuts. I know about the doughnuts. I made them.