I remember those days, and for many, many years had a knee jerk reaction to preachers and anyone in business suits, which is another story by itself!!
When the preacher would drop by close to supper time, I remember Grandma would tell me to go kill the old Dommiker hen or one of the Barred Rocks..it was up to me to catch the one with yellow legs (sign of a non layer) and butcher and clean her for dinner, while Grandma and the preacher would sit on the front porch and chat. Then she would cook the chicken and to my disgust would always give him the best parts of the chicken, seemed to me that he would eat everything on the table. Looking back, this was during and shortly after the depression, late 30s and early 40s, so the poor man was probably very hungry and would not get a good meal for whatever amount of days he would be on the road visiting. He had to depend on whatever he was offered, and not every farm woman was a good cook, or would cook her best food!!