Books [He Never Wanted Land Till Now]
“What do you have for Sunday dinner?” I asked.
“Lawsy, mister,” he exclaimed, “Sunday dinner ain't no different from any other dinner wid us. We eats what we's got, and if we ain't got nothin', we just don't eat nothin'.”
“And what would you call a good Sunday dinner?”
“A mess of collards, a piece of backbone and hot corn bread,” he answered, after a moment's reflection.
“Collards is mighty good eatin' when dey is cooked right,” he explained. “When you cooks a piece of fat meat in de pot wid de collards, den you ain't got much. But when you fries de meat sep'rate and den pours de grease from it over your collards, den you got somethin' fitten.”
At this point our conversation was interrupted by a hullabaloo on the other end of the cotton patch. A dog was yelping excitedly and one of the boys was shouting at the top of his voice. We found out what all the excitement was about in a few minutes when the boy run to his granddaddy proudly exhibiting a rabbit which the dog had scared up in the cotton patch and had succeeded in catching.
Mose turned to me and said, “We'll have meat on de table today.”
“I should imagine that the boys could provide you with quite a bit of game during the fall and winter months,”