In honor of my mother coming home from six weeks in the hospital and rehab following a stroke on June 11, I wanted to honor her with this blog post (in two parts)…

Gomming & Yowing

The title of this post reflects our dinner menu on June 19, 2008, plus green beans, two kinds of potato salad (American and Southern), creamed corn, fresh cucumbers and tomatoes, wheat rolls, and two desserts (Boston Cream Pie and French Silk Pie), all prepared in honor of one of my brothers-in-law on his 49th birthday.

First and foremost, though, this post is about my mother’s fried chicken. If you think her cornbread is good, you should try her fried chicken: it makes other fried chickens slink away, with their heads (if they still had them) hung low in shame. The bottom line: this ain’t your mama’s fried chicken. It’s MY mama’s fried chicken, and it deserves the best write-up I can give it.

Here’s the backstory: My mother’s father Ray Clarida spent most of his adult life preparing food. Without formal training, per se, he called himself a chef and his food was…

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