Serve up and strongly deny the existence of bones at bottom of pot. Fussy diners (i.e., children) are advised not to dig too deep...hence the name Graveyard Soup.
* * *
"I don't know quite what to tell you, except that this is what my mother fed
us on, during winter, for most of my childhood. She hated to cook but had
definite beliefs about what was good for us. Green vegetables were only
cooked until hot, and were always very crisp and not soft. She could not be
bothered to cut, grate, shred, peel or stir food so meals were planned
around these basic principles. Her other staple was baked potatoes together
with fried onions and four penny bacon (bacon off cuts).
"Mr. Bailey the butcher was much feared by me as he gave the older children chicken legs to play with (he showed them how to pull the tendons to make the leg jump) and he once put my doll on the chopping block and pretended to cut her leg off.
"I think "Bones for the dog" was a euphemism a bit like asking for a doggy bag in a
restaurant today and that every one asked for these for their own use. In
any case after the doll incident, I did not have to go to the butcher. We had
dogs and they did get the bones in the end so my mother would not have thought it
a lie to ask for them this way.
"As for Graveyard Soup itself, I think it was probably my brother who named the dish. Certainly, I still refer to any soup containing bones as graveyard soup and, though I have not seen them for ages, I'm sure my sisters do too. The food we ate was nutritious
but not great. My mother was very resourceful and what little money she saved on food, etc., she spent on books and travel which, unusually for parents
of that time, she thought much more important than homemaking skills."