MudFlaps

Lori Beth · Posted: Thu Aug 05, 2021 1:30 pm Post subject:

~ Then there was her kitchen---her domain---marked in every corner by the special touch of her own tastes, with its own indescribable fragrance that was a mixture of apples and spices, coffee and tea. Fresh bread mingled with the sweetness of a fresh bouquet of roses and honeysuckle, and all of it was clothed with woodsmoke. In season there was canning: beans, tomatoes, corn, beets, peaches, berries, and whatever, neatly labeled and placed in the cellar house for winter. There was baking: fresh fruit pies, or pumpkin or spring rhubarb. During supper at the round table there were excited cries as eager noses sniffed her fresh hot rolls . . . their faces scrubbed with melted butter, shimmering in their lightness like dancing girls on opening night. There were corn bread and beans; when in season, new potatoes and peas creamed together; and greens from the yard with woods mushrooms as a treat; and for dessert, a pound cake that had no recipe. Often Jeff and Brent would bring home a string of bluegills or sunfish and an occasional catfish with drooping whiskars, to be rolled in meal and fried. In the fall, the Saturday hunts would yield fresh rabbit, squirrel, and even a groundhog every now and then.
_________________
We don't have much, what we have, we share.

Lori Beth · Posted: Wed Aug 18, 2021 3:02 pm Post subject:

~ 1909

Thanksgiving was butchering time . . . a baby beef or two, a pair of fat corn-fed hogs that would provide meat throughout the coming year. Who can describe the excitement of an open fire on a chilly, snow-touched Thanksgiving day, or standing watch over a boiling kettle of fat being turned into Lard, while the children waited eagerly for their turn at the "Cracklings" as they drifted to the top. Link sausage was made in a stuffer and seasoned just right with sage in Esther's own special way. Fresh milk, butter, and eggs were always as near as the barn or the little cellar house set deep in the bank behind the house on the orchard side.
_________________
We don't have much, what we have, we share.

Lori Beth · Posted: Fri Aug 20, 2021 10:02 am Post subject:

~ What a treasure house that the cellar was in the fall! There were baskets of crisp, cool apples that waited to be peeled before the fireplace in the winter, the pears alongside, the rows and rows of canned fruits and vegetables standing in their places like glass soldiers, and a brown crock filled with fresh milk and a covered one with freshly churned butter. In the smokehouse above it, the bacons and hams all salted down wept and seeped under their penetrating coats until cured, and the popcorn hung upside down like so many yellow 'possums to add their joy to winter's confinement.
_________________
We don't have much, what we have, we share.