. . . by J. C. Lyendecker
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Lately I’ve been reading, with great delight and admiration, Frederick Law Olmsted’s A Journey Through Texas, which records a journey he and his brother took through The Lone Star State in 1857.
Olmsted is best known today as the co-designer, with Calvert Vaux, of Central Park in New York City, but he was fine writer, who took several journeys through the slave states before The Civil War in order to report on conditions there to the rest of the country. Olmsted disliked slavery and found its effects on white Southern society pernicious, but he was not a zealot on the subject, content to report coolly on what he saw, both good and bad.
His book about his journey through Texas is one of the great works on the frontier West, filled with clear, richly detailed descriptions of the landscape and the people, including transcribed snippets of conversations engaged in or overheard along the way, and fascinating observations on modes of travel, habitations and foodstuffs. The brothers traveled mostly by horse, and slept under canvas whenever possible.
One interesting fact Olmsted reports is that from western Louisiana throughout most of Texas the travelers could rarely find any food anywhere except cornbread and fried pork, usually served with coffee. This was served at all meals, in the humblest cabin they sought refuge in from time to time and in the dining room of the best hotel in the state capital of Austin (which was something of a hovel.)
Fresh butter was almost unheard of, as was wheat bread, and even wheat flour could rarely be had at any price. Most of the time they could vary the standard fare of “pone and fry” only by shooting their own game along the trails.
Inspired by this bit of information, I have decided to try and live on cornbread and bacon for a week or so, to see what it would be like. I decided as well to make my own cornbread, in an iron skillet, as it was usually made on the frontier. Here’s the first batch, based on a recipe in The Joy Of Cooking, which came out exceptionally well:
There would have been endless variations on cornbread eaten on the frontier — it was a universal food among whites, Latinos and Indians. I plan to try several variations myself — including a classic “corn pone” recipe which, unlike the Joy Of Cooking rule, uses only corn meal, no flour, no baking powder and no sugar. (A pone, as Olmsted used the word, was just a round of cornbread made in a skillet. Today, “corn pone” describes the specific type of cornbread made without baking soda, and goes by many other names, like johnny cake.)
The prospect of a diet of cornbread and bacon for a week or so is not entirely unpleasant to me — and I expect it will take me back to the American frontier in a way no other research can.
I’ll be providing cornbread and corn pone recipes in later posts.
Matt Barry’s latest — laugh or cry, your choice . . .
A new Amazon customer review of Fourteen Western Stories:
This is truly a western read. It is just as wild as the west goes on paper. I especially loved the first story. WOW. What an aim straight for the heart. Worth the purchase.
Available on Amazon for the Kindle and for free Kindle reading apps, which work on almost all computers and portable devices. Free to borrow for Kindle owners enrolled in Amazon Prime.
Also available in a paperback edition!
. . . let the little girl through.
Western movies used to be referred to, usually dismissively, as horse operas. It’s not a bad term for them. Like classical operas, they might have silly plots or bad acting, but these things might be redeemed by beautiful music, or at least a few memorable arias.
Horse operas had their arias, too — passages showing superb horsemen riding superb mounts through handsome scenery, or in rousing action sequences. The quality of the horses and the horsemanship in Hollywood movies was almost always of the very highest order, even in the crappiest B-Westerns, so if you love watching images of fine horses ridden by fine horsemen, there is almost always great pleasure to be had from any kind of Western.
If you’re “tone deaf” to these visual “arias” in Westerns, to the kinetic melody of the movement of men and horses through space, you may find the appeal of Westerns baffling, just as a musically tone-deaf patron will find the appeal of many operas baffling.
This is your problem, not the problem of the operatic works before you.
Not a great critic, perhaps, but a great communicator of his love for movies, a champion of many good but neglected films, a supporter of obscure but worthy up-and-coming talent.
He was the guy at the barbershop who turns the conversation to the latest flick at the local movie theater and gets people jawing about it — so maybe in some ways more important to the culture than a great critic.