Table Scraps circa 1997

A couple of you asked about my food column. Below is one. I may or may not do others.

TABLE SCRAPS

Published Dec. 24, 1997

Christmas Day for 'pokes in '97

The wind, no doubt, whipped through the Panhandle area on Dec. 24, 1897. The temperature that day reached a balmy 50 degrees, and the low that night dropped to 24.

Christmas Day probably dawned with calm winds, though the gusts almost certainly picked up during the day since the thermometer logged a high of 46 degrees.

No snow in recent days made it easier for the cowboys on the JA Ranch to quickly make their rounds and then prepare for a much-needed diversion - a trip to the Matador Ranch for a Christmas party and dance.

The JA, begun by Charles Goodnight and English partner John Adair in late October 1876, was the first ranch in the Panhandle. By 1886, the gentlemen divided the property, with Goodnight making his headquarters near what is now Goodnight in Armstrong County.

Incidentally, historians credit Goodnight with inventing the chuck wagon.

The Matador Land and Cattle Co. incorporated in 1879 and was sold to stockholders from Dundee, Scotland. Its holdings extended from northeast of Lubbock to almost the tip of Oklahoma. The northern division of the company, called Alamocitas, had headquarters in Channing.

Mrs. Henry Campbell, wife of the Matador's owner, found life in the Panhandle lonely. Not many women chose to live in an area where the nearest neighbor might be as far away as 80 miles. So she began having a Christmas party and dance in 1882. She would invite cowboys and settlers from the area to come to the Matador Ranch.

Feasting was a big part of the festivities.

The Matador cooks prepared wild turkeys and wild hogs or antelope and antelope stew, according to Lisa Lambert of the Panhandle-Plains Historical Museum.

Sometimes venison steak graced the tables. Side dishes included cornbread dressing and wild rice. Cowboys could choose apple pie or corn pudding for their sweet tooth and the children could munch on popcorn balls.

In later years, Christmas dinner at the JA Ranch featured roast beef, antelope, cakes, pies and other delicacies of the day, Lambert said.

Dancing played a major role in the fun, though the few women probably were exhausted before the night was over.

Today's cowhands probably are married, and they and their families live on the ranch. While one woman might cook a couple of meals a day for the hands while they are working, in the evening the cowboys will return to their homes.

In 1897, the cook had no grocery store to run to at the last minute in case she forgot the flour. Planning for at least a month was a necessity.

Today's cook can hop in the car and be at the local supermarket in a matter of minutes - probably even on Christmas Day.

When your family sits down to Christmas dinner, remember the hearty souls who first came to the area and be thankful you do not have to ride horseback or in a wagon for 80 miles to enjoy company.

Another ranch food tale

Mitch Bell was just a youngster when he first went to the JA Ranch in February of 1884. When he was 91 years old in 1949, he talked to Herbert and Carolyn Timmons of the Globe-News about life on the JA. The trio talked over a table while eating at a Clarendon cafe. What follows is part of that interview.

" 'They have good food here. I like their custard pie - better than beans any day. Hot rolls and butter beats sourdough all to pieces, too. Anything tasted good then when we were working out of doors, but lots of times the bread was hard and dry.'

"Mitch Bell chuckled. 'Beans are lots better than black-eyed peas, though. Once, after I had been on the JA for several years, they got hold of some dry black-eyed peas; sent a big sack of them out to our chuck wagon. We managed to empty the first sack; plenty of fussing, though. But here came another big sack of dry peas. That was too much for any bunch of cowboys. You know that, you can sure pour lots of dry peas down a prairie dog hole.

" 'All would have been well, but it rained that night. The dry peas swelled and swelled and swelled. They popped up out of the prairie dog hole, even pushed up the ground. Of course John Mann, the ranch boss, chose that day to show up.'

" 'Mitch Bell finished the story. 'Got scared John Mann was going to make us scoop those peas from the ground and eat them, prairie dog smell and all. John Mann was a fine fellow, though, and just. We got along fine, and no more black-eyed peas in our camp, not ever.' "

Questions or suggestions?
If you have a tip, suggestion or comment, write: Table Scraps, c/o Amarillo Globe-News, P.O. Box 2091, Amarillo, Texas 79166-0001, or call 345-3321, between 7 a.m. and 3 p.m. Out of town readers can call 800-692-4052.