#hominy

I have now finished the narratives of Kentucky militiamen Elias Darnell and William Atherton, both of them describing the doomed campaign of General James Winchester to relieve Frenchtown, Michigan Territory, that resulted in the defeat and capture of US forces at the Battle of the River Raisin in January 1813. There is not a lot of culinary discussion in the accounts of Atherton and Darnell as the militia suffered greatly from the want of clothing and supplies. Winchester's Camp No. 3 in the Black Swamp was infamously known as "Fort Starvation."

An army marches on its stomach, as Napoleon or maybe Frederick the Great once said, and the Kentucky militia foraged for food as best as they could. Atherton describes finding a bounty of dried corn:

We found a quantity of corn in the fields, which was soon gathered; and before any machinery was prepared to pound and sift it, a quantity was boiled whole, and eaten without even salt. But we quickly arranged to have it made into hommony [sic], and after the hogs came, we fared well upon "hog and hommony." You may judge of our relish for our food, when I tell you that one of our company, whose name I will not give, eat so much corn that he appeared to be actually foundered, and unable to walk for more than a week.

I immediately thought of another War of 1812 attempt to make hominy: the far less successful effort of the "gentleman volunteers" from Petersburg, Virginia, related by Alfred M. Lorrain:

Our ambition rose no higher than parched corn, till a luckless epicure exclaimed, "Boys, did you ever hear of hog-meat and hominy?" "0! don't mention hominy; you will make us squeal right out." "Well, sirs, it is not only mentionable, but it is highly feasible. Now, if you will only cast in a generous contribution of corn, we'll borrow a camp-kettle, and make a royal mess of hominy." Having been partly raised on hominy, we all understood very well how to dispose of the good dish when cooked, but we had brought out no recipe concerning the preparation. However, it was decided, without a dissenting voice, that it must be boiled. [...] Every hour or so we would dip up a spoonful to try it; but it really appeared that the longer we boiled it the harder it got. We persevered till day dawned upon us, and then, to our great mortification, found that we had not only lost our corn, but our night's rest.

Sunday Luncheon

Hominy times have you made this for breakfast?