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Now that Thanksgiving is coming up I like to share the story of my most memorable dinner celebrating this day of remembrance giving thanks to God by those early colonists and Native Americans. And the particular dinner I’m so fond of remembering had much in common with those early celebrants. My guns and fishing poles had supplied much of the food during the time my grandparents and I lived on the mining claim here in the Kern River Valley before the lake went in. This particular Thanksgiving morning I took my shotgun and soon bagged six quail. Taking them back to the cabin, I skinned, gutted and washed them thoroughly. My grandmother made a dressing of sage and cornmeal in a cast iron pot and placed the six quail breasts on top of the dressing then put it in the oven of our wood cook stove. She covered the pot just long enough to steep the quail thoroughly then removed the top in order to brown them and form a thin crust on the dressing. Once the stove had done its job, the...
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