Sunday Journal and Sentinel
Winston-Salem, N.C., Sunday Morning, October 16, 1966
Party at Tobacco Barn Swings
Old-Fashioned Chicken Stew is Truly Southern
By Beth Tartan, Journal Home Economist
Photos by Frank Jones
TOBACCOVILLE—The big old black cast iron wash pot was still half full of creamy white chicken stew when the party was over. Four impressive pound cakes remained uncut in a collection of pies and cakes which looked like a church bake sale.
That is the kind of party it was— a bountiful party, bountiful in the old southern tradition.
The party was a tobacco barn chicken stew celebrating the 35th anniversary of the day Mr. and Mrs. K. L. Smith eloped to Galax, Va.
It was the gayest wedding anniversary celebration a couple ever had. From the moment guests, some 35 of them, parked their cars until the host stretched out in the early hours of the morning on his cot at the barn, it was a swinging party.
A cauldren of stew is silhouetted by fire tended by W. R. Lane.
Country Music
The sound of country music greeted guests as they drove in on the narrow, dusty, dark dirt road to a setting which seemed in the middle of nowhere.
Charlie Long played the electric guitar and Harold Haymore played his fiddle for hours.
Sometime before midnight, the youngsters started playing rock and roll records. An electric line going to the barn is about the only modern touch.
The owners and hosts, Mr. and Mrs. Bobby Kye, have fought progress to keep the barn just as it was when they bought it three years ago, more for chicken stews than to raise the allotment of 1.5 acres of tobacco. They've even resisted the oil furnace, which has replaced the wood furnace in most barns.
They do, however, raise tobacco and at curing time, Mrs. Kye and the three kids stoke the fires by day. Her husband stokes them by night. Mrs. Kye is a daughter of the Smiths.
Charlie Long plays guitar, Harold Haymore fiddles, Mitch Kye eats.
A Pleasant Contrast
There the barn stood, made of ancient logs daubed with clay. Hearty cord wood fires burned in the two traditional burners on each side of the barn door.
The warmth added to the welcome and contrasted pleasantly with the nippy night air. The smell of the burning wood drifted out like a fine perfume to mingle with that of the wood fire under the pot and the rich buttery stew and robust coffee.
An ordinary tin roof jutted out on the firing side. It covered cocoa-colored dirt pulverized by generations of working feet. To one side of the roof was a tall pile of cord wood and tobacco sticks topped with bright orange pumpkins. To the other side was the dirt road and a corn field with corn ready to pick. At the end of the roof, a spotlight shining up into the trees made the leaves look even greener than the green grasshoppers which were there in abundance, seeming to enjoy a last fling of summer.
To the sides, other trees had turned to shades of pink and flame. A faint tint of light over distant tree tops came from Winston-Salem.
Tables with homemade lamps were set up around the barn. A homemade lamp is a pop bottle with kerosene in it and a twisted rag for a fuse.
Except for the chic country clothes of some of the guests, the electric light and the coffee urn, the setting was pretty much the same as that used for ages for a tobacco chicken stew.
Off to one side Mrs. W. R. Lane and Mrs. June Smith took turns stirring the stew in the big pot, a perfect prop for a Halloween party. The day before, Mrs. Lane and Mrs. Smith had picked the chickens after scalding them in the pot and singeing them over the fire.
Store bought chickens?
“Lord, no,” Mrs. Lane said. The chickens, four hens and one rooster, came from her yard. “They were right heavy ones. I e x p e c t that rooster weighed eight pounds,” Mrs. Lane said.
Store butter?
“Of course not, it's country butter in it and a lot of it.”
Light bread?
“Yes, it's store bought bread. My mother would never have served chicken stew with anything but homemade yeast bread,” Mrs. Lane continued.
Frenzied Appetites
During the interminable stirring, simmering, seasoning and thickening just to the right consistency, guests wandered around working up frenzied appetites as the night air grew crisper.
Kids climbed trees and played with the Kyes’ dog, Hobo, and Thunder, a big, beautiful, sleek, black dog owned by Mr. and Mrs. John Cockerham, who live “right down the road from the barn.”
The Cockerhams were there with their three children, John, Randy and Jan. Mr. Cockerham, who owns a women’s specialty dress shop in Winston-Salem, was wearing his “most comfortable outfit”—blue denim coveralls.
Latest in Fashion
Mrs. Cockerham and her sister, Mrs. Judy Hutcherson of Winston-Salem, were wearing the very latest in casual fashions for women—beautifully tailored suits with tapered trousers.
Mrs. Cockerham’s was gray wool with a gray velvet Chesterfield collar. Mrs. Hutcherson’s was checks in shades of pink and green which stood out in sharp contrast to her shiny black hair.
As one of the guests remarked, “This doesn’t just look like a musical comedy. It’s like being in one.”
Mrs. Horace Chatham of Winston-Salem was pleased that her daughter, Mrs. Cockerham, was having such a good time, as the Cockerhams returned here to live just two years ago after living in a sophisticated area of California where Mr. Cockerham was manager for the Darling Stores.
By the time the stew was ready, everybody was more than ready to get in line around the pot.
Before each deep, white soup bowl was filled, guests were whistling with burnt tongues from a liquid which must have been as hot as the fire which cooked it.
But the heat did not prevent audible enjoyment as stew ran down everybody’s chin. Some filled the stew with crumbled crackers; others with light bread.
Array of Pickles
The array of pickles Mrs. Smith brought looked like an offering at the county fair, ranging from kosher dills to pickled peaches. Some of the guests must have eaten half a quart of pickles.
For dessert, there were pies, cakes, and chess tarts. Mrs. Smith alone made 13 pies, including fresh pumpkin and sweet potato.
After the dessert, those who could still walk got busy with a hot dog roast. Youngsters cooked franks on sticks over the hot coals. The franks cooked the way folks use to warm in front of a fireplace on a cold night. They were charcoal black on one side and still lightly chilled on the other, but in a bun with mustard, slaw, and onions, they were the best anybody ever ate.
After-Dinner Treat
As an after-dinner treat, there was corn. The host sauntered across that dirt road and wandered up and down the corn stalks, pulling ears. He put the ears on a flat bed of carefully raked coals. The aroma of the fire changed as the corn shucks turned to black.
He danced a jig and blew on his hot fingers as he pulled open the charred shucks. How to describe the flavor of that corn? Corny has to be the best word. Besides being fresh from the field, the corn had a roasted flavor that made guests beg Bob to ask them another time and serve nothing but roast corn.
After the corn, the youngsters around sipping soda pop, twisting and frugging to their modern records, while their elders were content to sit back in canvas chairs “reckoning.”
There was a lot of reckoning going on at the tobacco barn the other night. Mr. and Mrs. Smith were reckoning they have been mighty happy these 35 years; Mrs. Lane was reckoning why her tree wasn’t going to have more buck eyes this year as Mr. Lane reckoned he didn’t know how old the barn was.
The party went on until there wasn’t much point in Mr. Kye’s going to bed, as the tobacco was ready to come out at about dawn.
As he often does in the middle of the night, he roasted some corn for himself after the party was over.
He was not tempted by the leftover stew as he is a vegetarian. For supper, he had eaten a slaw sandwich on light bread with chopped onion.
A supper under the stars makes the 35th anniversary of Mr. and Mrs. K. L. Smith a special one.
(L) Mrs. Lane made the stew.
(R) The pot has more than enough for everyone.
Guests are relaxed but happy as they wait for the stew.
The party moves rapidly now that the chicken stew is ready to be served.
(L) Kye takes corn from the coals.
(R) Host Bob Kye shucks corn.