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Hartleys Potato Chips have been fameous in Central Pennsylvania for many generations.
For many of those generations they were made by frying them in lard. (Some of the younger lads and lasses might need to look up that word).
Call it progress or whatever overly used word you would like, but they no longer fry them in lard, having switched to the more healthy vegetables oils.
They still taste fabulous, though.
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6 comments:
Hey Lowell & Amy,
Sounds like you're enjoying your time in the States! Wish I could attend your open house in August. I'll be moving to Ithaca, NY to start grad school in a few weeks.
Blessings to you!
CaSandra
ewwwwww, lard. that is so gross.
i'm loving Akron, PA. Mennonites are cool people, eh? :)
Hi CaSandra!
You are amazing. What are you taking up? sorry we are not there to help you move in.
Blessings,
Lowell
hey Dale and Marika,
(when making a list, isn't one supposed to put the fewer syllables early in the list, and the multi-syllables last in the list, and thus it would be Dale and Marika, rather than Marika and dale, or should one use another way of making the list, such as putting first the one who can make the best Mexican food while being the furtherest away from Mexico?)
Hope you are having a great time.
You would have to get up to Belleville/Big Valley to get REAL Amish and Mennonite cooking, that Lancaster stuff is just too worldly.
by the way, I have at least a dozen Amos Stoltzfus' in my close family, and I am guessing that the Amos who lectured to you is not one of them.
Blessings,
Lowell
We love your blog and check it daily.
Things are pretty quiet across the hall.
Actually, we did have a weird experience the other night. A young guy rang our doorbell at 4am... turns out he was making "cold calls" for illegal substances! He woke the whole complex and the one next door. Crazy neighborhood.
AARrrgghh,
That is one of the frustrating things about "living in the hood".
An old roommate and I had a drunk guy on our porch once for over an hour hollering, "Baby, let me in", while we tried to convince him that (number one) we were Not his baby, and (number two) this was Not his baby's house.
Oh well,
Lowell
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