Mama's Potato Cakes 1918

Mama’s Potato Cakes 1918

I remember from an early age, how I loved being in the kitchen with two of my grandmothers, and one great grandmother. Overnight visits with each one separately was such a treat for me. What an honor getting to listen to stories while learning to cook at the same time, and learning their special recipes too! Each grandmother had such great qualities and yet all so different. They all had such different backgrounds and different upbringing, and all so unique, but also so similar. This brings me back to a time in my Grandmother Daisy’s kitchen one summer morning in Florence Alabama. Now Grandmother Daisy was a little southern woman from Alabama. Small in stature and in her little black high heels, she stood at 5’0 and weighed about 115 pounds. This particular morning I recall was pretty routine, we had already been out to the garden to pick a few stalks of corn, tomatoes, onions, and a “few taters” as she would call them in her southern accent. I can still hear her voice in my head saying, “we can make my mama’s potato cakes tonight, , and that will make me feel like I’m back home in my mama’s kitchen”. Sometimes when my grandmother told stories, I could sense she felt homesick for her mama. I remember the summers being so hot down in Alabama. We always got up early and got things done before it got to hot to heat up the kitchen. We came back into the house and sat down at her little table with four wooden mismatched chairs. She sat a bowl filled with potatoes on the table between us, and as we began to peel potatoes, grandmother began to tell her life story. This is her story.

She was born to the ease of plantation life on a cold dreary morning in February 1924. The frigid boisterous winds rattled the shutter on the old plantation house that morning. The oil lamps burned all night waiting for the arrival of the blessed event. The sun had not yet arisen , when the clamorous cries of the newborn infant filled the house. They would call her Daisy.

Daisy, the fifth child out of eight, born to Richard and Florence Kimbrough, was raised on a one-hundred acre cotton plantation in Florence, Alabama. She grew up to be a beautiful little girl, with long curly hair that toppled down her back, and eyes that twinkled with every smile.

Daisy’s daddy, Richard, was the county commissioner of Florence: he built roads for the county. He donated land for the schoolhouse and church to be built on. He owned a small grocery store, a blacksmith shop, and a mill. Needless to say, he was an extremely diligent man.

Now Florence, Daisy’s mama, was a robust woman with a stern disposition. She loved all her children and raised them with strong Christian morals. She loved reading her Bible daily.

Daisy lived in a one hundred year old plantation house that had been painted stark white. The house had five bedrooms and chimneys on both ends of the house (this kept it positively toasty in the winter months). The antique iron beds were piled lavishly with homemade quilts that Florence made herself. The house was furnished modestly , but seemed elaborate during the depression.

One hundred year old oak trees bordered both sides of the mile long driveway that led to the big house. These beautiful oak trees shaded the entire front part of the house during the spring, summer, and fall.

The Kimbrough’s had a lot of hired help who dwelled in living quarters behind the old plantation house. These small homes were erected in the and1800’s, and were used the housed the slaves . After slavery had been abolished, the homes were never torn down.

Aunt Bant, a middle-aged woman, had been with the family for years was nicknames “aunt bant”, because she was short, plump, black as coal, and resembled a Bantam chicken. She wore her salt and pepper hair in a disheveled bun on top of her head. Aunt Bant had a lot of responsibilities. She washed the clothes daily in the big black boiling pot, and hung the, on the clothesline to dry. She also did the cooking for the family. The daily routine was done all year long.

One of aunts Bant’s favorite chores was making Cracklins. Cracklins were strips of hog meat, boiled down real low and used in making Lye soap. This made the clothes as white as snow. She received a small wage for her help as well as free living quarters in the back.

Daisy loved aunt Bant. Even though she wasn’t her real aunt and her skin was of another color, she also considered her as part of the family.

Napoleon, another hired hand, had also been with the family for years. He was tall, thin and as black as soot. His primary job was to keep the rose bushes weeded. He too lived in one of the old slave quarters with his entire family.

Annas, the youngest helper, did most of the dusting and polishing of the furniture. She had a light shade of skin and eyes. She wore her hair in “two twigs” on the sides of her head, (which later we figured out were braids). Annas only worked part time for the family and lived on the next farm over.

Richard, raised hogs, and grew corn. His cotton filled up half his land, and come picking time, it looked like a blanket of clouds.

Everyone worked the fields at picking time, including men, women, and children. They were all given $.50 for each one hundred pounds of cotton they picked. Daisy was elated to have her own spending money.

When Daisy was just eleven years old, her daddy died suddenly of a stroke, due to high blood pressure. Doctor’s at this time didn’t know what caused high blood pressure or how to treat it. He was just 44 years old. To Daisy, losing her daddy at such an early age was a huge devastation. Death is not easy for anyone, but for Florence, raising eight kids by herself would prove to be a great difficulty. She would pray to God for the guidance and Wisdom she needed to take on all this responsibility, and she did receive spiritual strength from God above.

Daisy grew up playing the piano at church on Sunday’s for the local church, as well as for revivals. When she was just sixteen , the church minister wrote and asked Florence if Daisy could attend a revival with him in Lexington, Alabama to play the piano. She would be allowed to stay with his niece and her best friend Effie. Florence reluctantly agreed.

After the revival was over, Effie invited the younger crowd over to a local party her friend was having. Daisy met a young man there John. Daisy and John took and instant liking to each other. She thought he was so handsome and charming. John asked Daisy for a ride in his automobile, but Daisy hesitated because if her mama found out, she would never be allowed to go anywhere again. Despite all that, she decided to go anyway.

The next day, John drove to Florence, Alabama, and walked Daisy to school. They dated three months before John asked Daisy to marry him. They walked to Florence for permission. Florence disapproved . She thought Daisy was to young, and John too old. Despite Florence’s objections, Daisy advised her mama, they would be married on John’s birthday in one week, with or without her mama’s approval. Florence eventually accepted the idea. Florence took Daisy town and bought her a pair of silk stockings hose, and a light blue chiffon dress. On the day of the wedding, Florence curled Daisy’s long hair into curls that toppled down her back. Daisy put on a large brimmed hat. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. On a beautiful spring afternoon, April 3, 1941, John and Daisy were wed in a tiny ceremony in the ministers home. In exactly one year later, Daisy would give birth to a healthy baby boy. She would name him John David . She would decide to call him by his middle name. I remember Grandmother saying “we might have to finish this story another time because we have literally sat her all morning and it’s nearly lunch time”. I remember being so mesmerized in her story, I had lost track of time. We got busy dusting, taking laundry off the line, and making beds. I remember how fast times goes when I spend the day with her. I remember her telling me “lets take a little cap nap, then we will start supper for granddaddy. I remember falling asleep quickly and when I woke up, the house was quiet except for the tick tock of the grandfather clock. I remember getting up and finding the recipe for Potato Cakes laying on the counter. I could see the recipe was written in my grandmother writing. I picked it up to read it and it read Mama’s Potato Cakes. It was her mama’s recipe. It looked so easy, and remember how good it tasted.

Mama’s Potato Cakes 1918 Florence Kimbrough

You Will Need:

2 Cups Mashed

1 onion diced

1 egg

1 cup all purpose flour

½ vegetable oil

½ tsp ground black pepper

How to Fix

Mix mashed potatoes, flour, onion, egg, black pepper, and salt in a bowl until well combined similar to a batter consistency. Heat vegetable oil in medium heat. Drop 4 inch circles of batter into the hot oil. Cook until golden brown, 4-5 minutes per side.

Put on a clean tea towel until ready to serve.

I remember her and I working hard together to flour and fry a chicken and making these potato cakes in a very hot kitchen. Sipping on a cold glass of ice tea and eating a piece of fried chicken and a potato cake was so good. To this day, I love making this duo on her birthday along with a cold glass of tea. It brings back so many memories.