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Just a few memories recounted by my
father,
Albert VANGAMPLEARE, in the year 2000 when he was 75 years old. |
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Blood
Sausage
While
growing up, the VANGAMPLEARE kids (Helen, Madelyn, John, Evie, Irene,
Lorraine, Albert, Delbert, Gene, Vonie and Vernon), made blood sausage
every fall. First a hog would be butchered (stick the hog and
catch the blood in a pan). Next the blood was dumped into a larger pan and
salt, pepper, garlic, bread crumbs, onions and ground up side pork was
added. Nothing went to waste, my family even used the intestines for the
casings. One of us kids would clean the casings very well and then it was
time to put the casings on the “stuffer” machine. Someone would hold
the end of the casing and fill it two-thirds full with the mixture and tie
off each sausage. Because we had such a large family, we would make
approximately 150 sausages. After that you would cook them. First we’d
tie the sausages to a broom handle and lower them into a big copper pot to
boil. After 20 to 30 minutes, someone would check to see if they were
done. The sausages were finished when pricked with a pin and the juice
would run white.
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Yvonne
Price, the
youngest daughter of our first American VANGAMPLEARE family, carries on the Belgian tradition of cooking blood sausage. |
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Back Row:
Madelyn, Evie, Irene, and Lorraine
Front Row: Vonie, Gene, Delbert and Albert
This would have been around the time of their mother’s death.
The four in front were the children the story is about.
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A
Trip Never Forgotten
Our mother died in August 1931 from complications after childbirth. She
left 11 children behind. A new baby, a 2 year old, a 5 year old, 7 year
old twins, a 9 year old, a 12 year old, a 15 year old, and a 18 year old.
The two oldest girls had already left home; one being married. Pa
(Alphonse) was a farmer. He had to do all the work — in the house and out
in the fields — besides trying to take care of the kids. The older kids
helped, but it became just too much. So Pa took four of us youngest
children (Vonie, Gene, Albert, and Delbert) to the adoption home in
Davenport, Iowa. But as he got closer to the adoption home, he began to
cry. All us kids were crying too. Pa decided he just couldn’t do it!! He
turned the car around and brought us back home. He raised all of us and promised
to keep us together. We were a close family. Long before the “Waltons”
did it, we always said “Goodnight Pa” every night. And Pa always knew
all our voices and answered each of us by name. It must have been a
difficult time, but the VANGAMPLEARE family always felt loved. |
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Email questions or comments to: Dixie
Gardner |
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