Jasper County Democrat, Volume 4, Number 39, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 January 1902 — AUNT CINDY’S RECIPE. [ARTICLE]

AUNT CINDY’S RECIPE.

Washington Girl Fonnd Ont How to Make. Sweet Potato Pie. A Washington girl was recently visiting in Lynchburg, Va., and while there was greatly impressed with the perfections of the sweet potato pies that obi Aunt Cindy, the cook, used to send up for the delectation of the company. Such richness, such sweetness, such flakiness of crust, such delicate and delicious blending of flavors were never befoce obtained by mortal hand. So, armed with pencil and notebook, in true cooking school style, and fortified by permission of her hostess, she ventured into the kitchen to learn the sweet secret.

“Come in, honey, come in, an’ make yo’se’f welcome,” said Aunt Cindy affably', when her visitor modestly presented herself at the kitchen door. It Is needless to say that Aunt Cindy was a relic of antebellum days, and valued accordingly. “I want to get your recipe for sweet potato pies, auntie,” seating herself on the chair Aunt Cindy had hospitably wiped with her apron. “Law, chile, I dcs cooks out o’ my hald; I don’t go by no wrltin’,” replied the old woman. “Certainly, but your proportions must always be the same or your results would vary.” The Washington girl was a cooking school graduate with “one cup” of this, “two cups” of that and "three cups” of the other fresh in her mind. “Let’s begin with the eggs,” she continued, observing the old woman’s puzzled face. “How many eggs do you use?” “Well, yo’ know how aigs is, honey,” replied Aunt Cindy, judicially; “some’s big an’ some’s little; sometimes dey’s skeerce, an’ sometimes dey ain’t I des puts In de aigs ’cordin’ to de size ob ’em an’ how many I’se got.” “How many sweet potatoes do you use?” asked her questioner, somewhat bewildered. “Dat’s ’cordin’ to de size ob de famb’ly, ob co’se,” said the old woman. “When we all got company, as we mos’ in ginerally has, I uses mo’, an’ when dey ain’t nobody but des we all, hit don’t take so many.” “How much butter?” “Right smart o’ butter,” responded Aunt Cindy emphatically, evidently thinking she was accurate at last. “Ain’t nothin’ good widout butter, an’ I always puts in er plenty.” “How about sugar?” questioned the young woman. “Sugar to tas’, honey; sugar to tas’. Some folks likes ’em sweeter’n others; we all likes ourn tolerbul sweet.” “What else do you put in?” was asked before the book was closed in despair. “Oh, des whutever’s handy,” answered the old woman. “Sometimes I puts in er little cream, but yo’ don’t has to do dat; des ’cordin’ to wedder you’s got any er not; an’ er pinch o’ spice, but dey ain’t no spechul rule ’bout seasonin’.” “I am very much obliged to you, aunty,” said the Washington girl, politely, if insincerely, as she gathered up her book and pencil and left the kitchen. But Aunt Cindy was not to be deceived. “ ’Pears like folks dese days can’t understan’ nothin’ yo’ tells ’em,” Jhe remarked when the young woman was out of hearing. “Fo’ de war’ when I wuz er chile ” But as Aunt Cindy turned toward the stove, says the Washington Star, her reminiscences were lost in a cloud of fragrant steam that arose from a saucepan where “right smart o’ butter” and “sugar to tas’ ” were bubbling in toothsome harmony.