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November 25, 2006



What is it about the men in our family from that generation and the allure of bagging small game for the urban pot? My mother has similar tales of brunswick stew a la Grandpop, roundly detested by his progeny. It is a good thing that he was a marginaly better fisherman than hunter and that Buzzard's Bay was far more bountious than the pine woods of Wareham. Put enough cream and potatos in the chowder and even barnicles and dog whelks taste good.


Reminds me of the story Ganny used to tell. Pop returned to their apartment at 27 W. 67th street from a weekend at Indian Gap with a bag full of squirrels he had shot. She was in bed with the stomach flu and Pop made her get out of bed to make him mulligan stew. She did it, but said she "lost her taste for squirrel" after that.


A lady whom I know told about her father's childhood in east Kentucky. They trapped a possum in the fall and fattened it in a cage on the back porch until Thanksgiving. This was probably during the 1930's or thereabouts.


roast possum? :(

I just saw the cutest possum in my backyard, burrowing right by my back door. Hes the cutest thing ever, I'd hate to see him wind up on a grill.

I see him almost every night..I'm pretty sure its the same one, hes got and odd white pattern on his rump.

no he's not a skunk. ha.

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