Word: salade
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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CHICAGO: Nothin' from Appalachia Many white poor who have left Appalachia still return to the "hollers" to sample the hospitality of home, chow down on pokeweed salad and hog jowls, pop a squirrel with the old .22-cal. "hog rifle," or just "swang on the front stoop." Others are totally uprooted. In a second-story apartment on Chicago's North Side, an obese Appalachian woman grunted heavily as she heaved herself off the army blanket covering her bed. She flicked off the stained TV and said: "I've got trouble. My 14-year-old, he just got stabbed...
Lurleen Burns was a poor man's daughter, and all she could bring as her dowry was loyalty. In 1943, when she married George Wallace, a young truckdriver who talked of being Alabama's Governor, their wedding breakfast was a drugstore chicken-salad sandwich and soda pop. Then the pretty 16-year-old blonde, whom he had found selling cosmetics in a Tuscaloosa dime store, dutifully followed Wallace to wartime Army bases, once making him a home in a converted henhouse. As his political fortunes prospered, Lurleen mothered his four children, remaining in the background when they settled...
...Ready to Jump." Annemarie's own taste runs to roast goose with red cabbage and homemade spatzle (noodles), and her idea of an ideal main course is roast duck served with white rice, artichoke bottoms and petits pois with a salad of romaine, watercress and little mandarins. No dieter herself ("If one eats right, one doesn't have to"), she made herself an expert in low-calorie meals. And when Weight Watchers magazine asked for a few samples, she cheerfully agreed. As recipes, they were ordinary. Her "Black Mushroom Soup" is simply five cups of bouillon...
Azaleas too pooped to pop? Fluffy ruffles lost their curl? Pollypoddies look like a tossed salad? Take heart. For every ailment, TV Horticulturist Thalassa Cruso has a remedy: "A highhanded plunge into a bathtub full of sudsy water will do wonders for your plant." If not, well, "then throw it out. You'll feel much happier replacing it with a fresher, sprightlier plant...
...that the ancestors of those deprived mountaineers left the crags of Wales and the glens of Scotland while his forebears were still sharing the parlor peatfire with the pigs? Their English may hark back to Elizabeth I, as do their music and customs, and they may live on poke salad and fatback, but in some ways they are better off than the rest...