Chicken Casserole to Serve Thirty

Below is the recipe mother wrote for her friends and family.  She continued to have dinner parties (thus the 'serve thirty') after my father died.  You can skim the ingredients, but read her instructions.

This was the only picture I could find of Maxine

in the kitchen.  She was not the cook in our family.

My father and sister did most of the cooking.

30 slices of day-old bread, cubed
8 cups cubed chicken (I used the breasts)
2 small green peppers -- chopped fine
2 small onions             -- chopped fine
1 1/2 cub celery           -- chopped fine

6 eggs, well beaten
1 cup milk
chicken broth to make 6 cups
Mix eggs, milk and chicken broth together and put small amount in bottom of pan

Add 1/2 of cubed bread -- next chicken, vegetables and rest of bread
Pour remaining liquid over and let let stand overnight (refrigerate).
Bake 15 minutes at 325 degrees

Mix following and spread over top:
     2 cans cream of chicken soup (do not dilute)
     2 cans cream of celery soup    (do not dilute)
     3/4 cup mayonnaise or Miracle Whip
Over this add 2 cups grated mild cheddar cheese
Bake 1 hour, 15 minutes at 350 degrees

Due to an error, I added more chicken than the recipe called for but I feel it improved the taste.  I thought I was using a four cup measure and afterwards found that it was an eight cup.

Also, I found that I had omitted the cheese--didn't find it until 15 minutes before the casserole was to come from the oven.  I added it at that time and really think it was best to not have the cheese topping on the entire baking time, as it turns brown.  Mine stayed yellow with just a little browning.

I must have had several things on my mind while preparing this casserole as I tripped on the basement stairs and fell flat, holding the casserole aloft and with only two bread cubes bouncing out.  Needless to say, I have several bruises and a twisted ankle to prove I had the fall.

Also, I had  not measured the oven to see if the larger throw-away aluminum pan I was using would fit in it----it didn't.  So I had to transfer, spoon by spoon into a narrower pan.

My paragraph concerning my fall is rather disconnected--I was taking the casserole to the basement refrigerator for overnight.

Guess it was all worth it as everyone liked the finished product.
                                                                      Maxine Haworth

This is typical of how my mother's cooking went.  I wish I had other recipes that she wrote...as many of them are similar to the one above...with her unique changes to recipes.



What's Cookin', Maxine?...Beets Me...

I know what it feels like to walk into a brutal murder scene....the faint feeling, gasp of breath and hand covering my face. I had returned from a day at work at school, walked into the kitchen and saw a red hand print dripping down the refrigerator. The same hand prints were on the cabinets, stove and sink. Red drops pooled on the floor.

 
"I made beets today," my mother sang out to me from her chair in the living room. "Oh...that's nice," I said, wiping clean all beet evidence...after catching my breath. I don't want to make light of anyone who has experienced a real crime scene...but for a few short seconds...I think I could relate to that feeling. My mother lived with me the last twelve years of her life. Her health was remarkable...no medication...just something for her indigestion and a vitamin for her macular degeneration. Some of you may know, from earlier posts, that she was an excellent seamstress. She was NOT a good cook.

 People at school did look forward for her banana bread...until one loaf was full of paper clips. Maxine, (my mom) had dropped a box of paper clips on the counter...I guess...I did not have the heart to tell her about the ruined bread...and I did find stray clips on the floor and counter. It is difficult to write about her cooking without making this way too long. 

 There was the time she made jelly for a brunch my parents were having for guests. My father did 99% of the cooking (he said Maxine was better at entertaining), but she wanted to contribute something...so she made jelly. She proudly set a few small bowls with the proper silver spoon in each bowl. By the time brunch was served, the jelly had solidified becoming one with the bowl and spoon. Picking up the spoon would result in the whole bowl being lifted from the table. One more example and I will end...for now.... I think this picture of the fudge she made needs no words of description.

 She later decided that this would make great topping for her daily hot fudge sundaes.