Tin Foil, Skillets and Pecans
A few years ago, after Susan and I first met, we were getting ready to grill some steaks on the back deck. We were going to have the traditional steak dinner with baked potato and a salad.
I knew she had already been to the store.
Do you need me to pick up anything while I am here at Winn-Dixie?” I asked in my “husband-of-the-year” voice.
“Yes, I do. Pick up some tinfoil for the baked potatoes.”
“Some What?”
“Get some tin foil.” She responded.
“Do you mean aluminum foil?”
“No. Tin foil.”
“Never heard it called tin foil. I only knew it as aluminum foil or Reynold’s wrap.”
I bought some Reynold’s aluminum foil.
This started the debate that still lingers to this day.
Do you call it: 1. Tin Foil 2. Aluminum Foil or 3. Reynold’s wrap?
Susan’s family calls it tin foil. I have told her numerous times, tin goes on the roof of a barn, not to wrap a tater or to line the bottom of the stove. In her defense, I have canvassed several friends and they vow that their family goes the “tinfoil” route also.
The Southerners who refer to it as “Reynold’s Wrap” were probably raised in the red clay of Northwest Alabama where Reynold’s Aluminum employed almost 5,000 people in the 60’s. It has since been bought out a couple of times. When in the Shoals, I intentionally drive by there on 2nd street and remember those loyal workers.
My brother-in-law, Bob Tanner, worked in Human Resources for Reynold’s and Alcoa for more than 30 years. They lived in Gurden, Arkansas; Louisville (twice); Rockdale, Texas (twice); Kansas City; Longview, Washington; and Florence, Alabama. I am sure that those employees called it Reynold’s Wrap.
We all looked forward to our extra- large roll of Reynold’s Wrap from Bob and Susan, my sister, as a Christmas gift. I still have some that is more than 15 years old.
The band, Shenandoah, had a hit years ago entitled: “Next to You, Next to Me.”
Here is the 2nd verse: ‘Barbeque chicken in ALUMINUM FOIL. Just enough money for my gas and oil.”
When I am back in the Shoals and run into Marty Raybon of Shenandoah, I’m gonna ask him why he didn’t call it tin foil?
To me, it’s “Loomnum” Foil.
There is another question that I can’t get answered: does your family call it a frying pan or a skillet?
Supposedly, the major difference is that a skillet has a lid and a frying pan does not. I have always thought of them as being interchangeable.
For newlywed brides or unlucky women who were raised in the north: never, ever WASH a cast iron skillet. This is the special one that you use to bake cornbread (without sugar). If your cornbread comes out right, you can take a paper towel, wipe the skillet out and store it back under the oven.
If you put sugar in your cornbread, you can do whatever you want to with the skillet since your husband is not playing with a full deck to begin with if he will eat “sugar cornbread.” I call that CAKE. Get a kale shake to wash it down. Thank you Judy Bailey.
Whether you fry in a skillet or a frying pan, it is mandatory to keep a cup of “bacon drippings” on the back of the stove to season everything from peas to biscuits. We are talking about homemade biscuits, not the “Whop ’Em” ones” that come in a tube.
You want to impress your husband- to- be or potential in-laws? Have a “seasoned” skillet to cook in, and bacon drippings on the stove. You are half-way home already. If this doesn’t impress him, he might not be for you anyway. Send him back to Manhatten or Hoboken.
While I am at it, I still get my Fruit of the Looms in a crack, when I hear someone talk about Pee Cans (Pecans). They actually call the nut: Pee Cans. Where I am from, we always called them Puh Kahns.
It must be a Georgia thing. In the song: “Chicken Fried,” Zac Brown sings: “Sweet tea, Pee Can pie and Homemade wine,” in the second verse. Dog fans have been busy mixing their sweet tea and homemade wine in their Pee Can and drinking it. It will cure what ails ya.
I first thought it was a bunch of yankees who couldn’t speak Southernese saying Pee Cans. Now I find it’s some of our good neighbors to the East of us that call them Pee Cans.
When I hear Pee Can, it reminds me of once being in the hospital for one of my eye surgeries. Nurse Ratchett told me: “James, if you can’t make it to the bathroom, there is a Pee Can under the side of your bed.” I will empty it for you in the morning. I was in Alabama, not Georgia.
My Grandmother had a Puh Kahn (Pecan) grove. We picked up a lot of nuts from those trees, but I never saw a Pee Can anywhere near them. Nanny would be rolling over now if she heard me say Pee Can.
She might even do what Mother did the first time that I got up the nerve to say A$$ and she heard me.
I didn’t have to cut a switch. I had to go to the bathroom and get the Ivory soap. She lathered us up with a washrag and cleaned my mouth out good. (This is a true story with my hand on a bar of soap.)
I belched bubbles for 2 days. To this day, I still think of Momma when I get up the nerve to speak about the” Donkey in the Bible.”
If I ever visit a Southerner who is baking a Pee Can pie in a skillet lined with tinfoil, you can bet your Sweet A$$ that I have been converted.
If Momma was still around, you know what she would do?
Get the Ivory out.