MORE FORGOTTEN 3-Ingredient Farm Suppers No One Makes Anymore

Find All my recipes in one place! Otis Granger Cook Book: https://otisgranger.com/ Last Saturday I cleared a kitchen in Benton County, and on the inside of the pantry door, in pencil, was a list. Not a grocery list. A supper list — twenty-some lines, three words apiece. Corn, butter, salt. Bread, tomato, salt. Somebody's whole rotation, worn into the paint. A while back I gave you twenty-five of the three-ingredient suppers my mother put on the table for eleven people, and I said there was a whole shelf I didn't get to. You filled the comments with the ones I left out. This is the rest of the shelf. Twenty-five more, none of them in the first video, none of them needing a fourth thing. I'm Otis. Forty years of barns and estate auctions across the Midwest, and the kitchen is the last room I clear. My mother's name was Ruth. She cooked in that farmhouse forty-one years and never opened a cookbook. In this one: the radish sandwich — cucumbers and onions — lettuce with cream — the first new potatoes — the tomato sandwich with no mayonnaise — fried corn cut off the cob — supper pancakes — butter noodles — cream of tomato soup and the pinch of soda that keeps it from curdling — hamburger gravy on bread — creek bullheads in cornmeal — HOT potato salad, and why the German side of the county never bought mayonnaise — creamed onions — Iowa pork steak and onions — sausage, apples and onions — frosted turnips and parsnips — glazed carrots — Hubbard squash you split with a hatchet — Christmas Eve oyster stew, four hundred miles from an ocean — ditch asparagus — morels, and how to tell a real one — and the July supper that was nothing but corn. And the rule underneath all fifty: one thing from the ground, one thing from the animal, one thing from the bin. Open the icebox, not a recipe. Safety said plainly in the video: never eat a mushroom you can't name (true morels are hollow top to bottom, cook them always), know the water your fish came out of, and mayonnaise salad doesn't sit in the sun. What was the three-word supper on your mother's pantry door? Tell me the dish, and tell me her name. I read every one.