Preserving Traditions

I started this post back in January, but never got to finish...  It was my first time trying to make my family's "Pot Pie", which I hadn't had since just before my Great Aunt Elsie died when I was 13...  Amazingly enough, I still remembered exactly how to make it and exactly how it should taste.  I have to admit that when no one was around and I tasted the first bite, I cried a little because it did taste, feel, and smell just like hers and I felt that just for a moment, she was there with me.  It's amazing how food can connect you to your memories!  Here is the post:

Anyone who knows me, knows that my Great Aunts and Grandmother were a HUGE influence on my life.  While wondering what to do with the ham bone and scraps from this weekend's birthday celebrations, it hit me.....  POT PIE!!!  Now, granted, what I think of as "pot pie" is actually a take off of  Amish "bot bie".  As a child, I never knew that pot pie was actually a stew baked into a pie crust.  Aunt Elsie, Aunt Nelda, and my Grandmother used to make "pot pie" a few days after we would have a big ham dinner.  What I considered a treat, and one of my favorite meals, was actually a product of their Depression Era Pennsylvania upbringing.

You see, our family's "pot pie" is actually a type of ham soup with cut dumplings, there is no crust or "pie" involved at all.  When they were growing up, my great aunts and grandmother had very little.  My great grandfather was a coal miner and with 8 children to feed, NOTHING was wasted.  After a ham was eaten, the bones, fat, and scraps were boiled for hours (you "boil the piss out of it", as my Aunt Elsie would say), making a stock.  Scooping out all of the bones and fatty bits, the stock was allowed to cool until all the fat floated to the top.  the fat is then skimmed off the top, and combined with flour, and a pinch of salt (if there isn't enough fat to make enough dough, lard or shortening can be substituted with a little of the broth for flavor).  There was never measuring in "pot pie"... Everything was "eyeballed" and improvised until it tasted good or was the right consistency.  The dough would be mixed and kneaded until it was "workable" , then turned out onto a floured surface and rolled out fairly thick.  It was then cut into strips, then across the strips on a diagonal to form a type of delicious imperfect parallelogram.  The dough shapes would be set aside, covered by a damp towel, until about a half hour before supper time.  While the dumplings were beng made, chopped onions, potatoes, and celery (if it was available) would be added to the skimmed broth, and any meaty, useable bits woud be picked off the hambone and added back into the liquid as well....  The women would then boil the piss out of that too, then reducce it to a simmer, stirring occasionaly and tasting, usually all day long.  They would add seasoning (only salt and pepper) and water throughout the day as needed.  the day long process would fill the house with an aroma of home, comfort, and family.  I remember getting excited when it was time to drop the "noodles" into the boiling broth, and it was almost time to eat.  The smell filling the house was absolutely incredible, and still feels like home.  Once the noodles were done, there was never an empty seat at the table...  And usually not a drop left.