Chapter 5

To the older members of the family, the war meant greater seriousness.  To be sure the prices of farm produce increased but not in ratio to that of the commodities purchased.  Then, too, there was that constant feeling that we, who passed through the World War, appreciate -- that the boys at the front were skimped in rations and it would be selfish indeed to let one home product be wasted.  So, we scrupulously practiced conservation.

From the days of grandfather's arrival we had a great oval Dutch stove in the back yard   Built of stone and clay, it had a hearth six feet in diameter.  A great fire of hardwood was built in it and allowed to burn down to the coals after it had been kept up long enough to thoroughly heat the thick walls.  Sometimes a fire would be built for the purpose of drying fruit and berries but on "dry-boards," but generally the family baking would be done first when the oven would be of the proper heat for drying the fruit.  Mother would slip the large pans of bread in on a long-handled paddle and close the oven for one hour to the minute.  There was a time when it needed filling twice with bread but whether or not the pies followed.  Close by stood the leach barrel where the hardwood ashes were soaked and the lye from them was, from time to time, used in making homemade soap.  So, the enormous soap kettle was installed at what we called the "was place" for all the year, except when rain or snow prevented, mother and Olive washed outdoors and boiled the clothes there in a large copper kettle.

In this matter of laundering as it used to be done, one quaint and rather poetical belief held; that the proper time to bleach new linen, which was an even pale cream to yellow, was when the apple trees were in blossom.  So exactly was this saying believed that the new linens were always to be seen spread in a circle as close as might be to the overhanging sprays of flowers.  Some concession, you see, was made to the sun's rays, but the flowers must be given their fair chance.  No wonder they smelled sweet.  Our towels (at least the first time or so we used them) were unironed in the press of spring work, and occasionally the pillow cases and sheets, too.

It has ever been interesting to me, and so I hope to those who read these pages, to speculate upon the causes of well established customs and sayings; may it not be that the housewives who spent their winter days at weaving had piles of the new linens about the time the sun's rays came as a new annual miracle? That they placed them on the grass, at some very early date, under the blossoming trees and beheld a fine bleach? It pleases me to think that way.

Pork and beef were seldom killed in spring or summer.  Poultry, game, calves and lambs were the between time family supply of meats.  The farm hogs fared rather slenderly during the summer months as the porker was supposed to hunt on the common and in the woods under the oak trees.  However, he ran no chance of becoming wild in that way as daily he was enticed to the great buttermilk barrel in the farmyard.  In the fall the hogs were penned and fed the second grade of corn.  To be explicit this was the third grade as the very best perfect eaters were selected for seed and the second grade sold or used at home.  The hogs were fed this corn until they were unable to walk about.  I have seen them rise to their front feet only to take their meals.

Butchering day came about Thanksgiving and it was the only time of the entire school year Mother excused any one of her large brood from attendance.  Everyone able to lend a hand was pressed into service.  There was always a man or two in our neighborhood who made a practice of taking charge of this work, while many more were glad to help not only to lighten the labors of a family of friends but also because there was always a nice portion of meat given as a slight remuneration.

Everything was so arranged that the work could be commenced by daybreak and by noon eighteen to twenty or more clean, pinkly-white carcasses would be hanging by the heels stiffening, ready for cutting and trimming.  Only the leaf and kidney fat was saved for rendering into lard, that from the other viscera being set aside for soap grease.  From the hams, flitches and head was trimmed the meat for sausage.  For the wurst and the pawnhaus the head was cleaned and set aside with a portion of the livers and the hearts.  These were set boiling in a fifteen gallon copper kettle.  It is of interest here to understand just why the head was boiled instead of stripping the meat from it.  This was done to extract the gelatine which made the wurst and pawnhaus of a jelly-like consistency.  It was a meticulous job to properly clean a head, and mother stood over us with many a firm order.  It would be dark when all had gathered in the big basement room and the sausage grinder and sausage stuffer had begun to turn.  Long ropes of unadulterated and carefully seasoned sausages now rolled out steadily as the work went merrily on.

My boyhood days were before those when the canning of fresh fruit was understood and practiced generally, but berries were dried and so were some of the larger fruits, by a process at home.  The ideal place for doing this was on "dry-boards" as we called them.  This drying process was done in the big "Dutch oven" where a fire was occasionally built for the express purpose of drying fruit.  More frequently, however, the oven was used first for a baking of bread and one of pies or biscuits, after which it was the proper temperature for slowly evaporating the fruit.

In a big oven, mother browned rye and chicory -- our wartime substitute for coffee   Outside the oven, however, she dried the mints and herbs which she put away each year for seasonings and simple home remedies.

Of all the wholly or partially prepared foods there was but one that was rigidly excluded from a place among its fellows.  That was the big barrel of sauerkraut, whose peculiar odor so ready to taint its associates condemned it to a nook by itself.  Never-the-less, it was welcomed occasionally on the family table.

After all that has been said in regard to the bursting barns and cellars, it may appear to the casual reader that there was no need for economy at the table.

Today our tables are well supplied with the good things of all climes.  The poorest of us consider it a hardship unless we can have our choice of these foods prepared in the daintiest way.  We pay exorbitant prices for things out of season, nor are our appetites supposed to be constant.  The grocer, the butcher and the baker have to cater to our daily call, sometimes through carelessness on our part three times a day, and we naturally expect to pay suitably for this service.  Then the preference of each individual member of the household is made a matter of serious thought and study.

I would not set myself up as a reformer; in seventy years from today perhaps future generations may be lavishing pity on us for our present privations.  The manner of living is so radically different than that of seventy years ago that we cannot fully appreciate the difficulties in those times.  We but vaguely realize the pioneer's hardships and entirely lose sight of the contributing causes that then perforce made a homely table fare in vogue to suit the circumstances of those times.

I would have you know some of the enjoyments to be found in the simple life.  My home was not exceptional but rather was characteristic of the period.  To furnish food for ten healthy, hearty appetites was no trivial task; undertaken in the right spirit, it became a game in which each took a cheerful part.  One of the pleasant features was that the grocer's and butcher's bills did not mount up monthly.  Cash from the occasional sale of a colt or a beef paid the heavier accounts, while the butter and eggs were exchanged to satisfy the accounts at the grocery and dry goods store.  Hence it will be understood when the butter and eggs were used rather sparingly at the table.

Corn and buckwheat are each such complete articles of diet and are also so simple of preparation that they were made the staple foods on our table in the winter, especially, as there was then no great amount of work of any kind in progress.  Winter mornings we had our buckwheat cakes or our Johnny cakes, served with meat fryings diluted with milk and seasoned nicely.  At noon it would be a great dish of vegetables boiled with meat and another great dish of "pone."  The evening meal was the only one that sent the boy away unsatisfied and that not for lack of quantity but rather on account of its monotony, for unless a visitor would be with us corn meal mush and milk would be our supper.  Our cornmeal was not the ordinary, finely bolted kind, as the miller by father's instructions set his burrs when he ground our corn so as to rind our meal coarsely and left it unbolted for mother to run through a sieve at home.  Meal in that shape required a longer time for cooking; not less than an hour for mush and Johnny cake required double the usual time.

We were never consulted as to whether we were fond of a certain kind of food, nor do I recall any complaints.  However, I remember clearly how eagerly we looked forward to the great piles of doughnuts for Christmas and the quantities of eggs for Easter -- eggs fried, scrambled and also those pretty gaily-colored boiled eggs.