My grandmother was a small German woman born in the 1890s; she never drove a car nor microwaved a meal.
However, she taught me to ferment cabbage into sauerkraut, pickle gherkins and beans, mash freshly harvested potatoes and bake wonderous kuchens and kolaches.
She also boiled her chicken.
Those were the days of innocence and wonder. I remember the beauty of her deep brown eyes. They are mine now – and never questioned the pale boiled bird she served forth.Continue reading “My German Grandmother Boiled Her Chicken￼”