Over The Back Fence

Things are settling into fall and the weather has been warm – cool – cold – and warm again. It isn’t the usual November fare, but we’ll take it!

When I was growing up, we never had strawberries in January, sweet corn in March or fresh spinach in December! Foods, activities, our clothing, the places we  could go and our entertainment all had seasonal attachments. Today a housewife can serve strawberry shortcake anytime; skiing, swimming, baseball, or a Broadway show is possible any time you have airfare or other travel fare.

About this time as days grew shorter and evenings were long, my grandfather, with whom I lived, would decide it was time for something sweet. He had two specialties: lighter than air pancakes, and molasses candy. This old fashioned treat was just right for a chilly evening.

The procedure for the candy making started with poking up the coals in the big square cook stove in the kitchen. It was also a requirement that the squat molasses jug have enough of the thick dark stuff to blend with the other ingredients. I can see gramp “testing” the syrup by dribbling the hot sauce into a cup of cold water. When it was just right to start to harden, the hot liquid was poured into the buttered pie tins.

Then came the waiting! On the shelf in the cold “back entry” the tins sat and cooled and hardened, and finally were ready to sample. Putting a clean cloth around a small hammer, gramp whacked away at the first pan-full till there were enough small pieces for eating. You sucked on the sweet stuff rather than risk losing a filling if you chewed on it!

The pancake “specials” took place on Sunday mornings. When grandfather went down to shake and open up the coal stove and coal furnace, he sometimes hauled out the big iron griddle and began to beat it on the kitchen stove lids. When the sound of eggs being beaten followed we knew it was pancake Sunday. With a generous chunk of butter and a dollop of maple syrup from up at Brundages Farm, it was a special breakfast indeed.

Both of the homemade treats depended greatly on the knowledgeable way to get that old black stove in just the right mood to provide the right kind of heat for a right amount of time. It was an art and a skill of its own!

These past couple of weeks, I have been shut in, and they have not been very good ones. This is the only way I can thank so many of you for your get-well wishes and messages. I’ve had enough of trouble this year and will hope the new Century provides some better times!

Last week the remark at the end of the column was by Marlene Dietrich.

Who said, “Anger is only one letter short of danger.  If someone betrays you once, it is his fault. If he betrays you twice, it is your fault.”?

Wendover Road acquired its picturesque name in the 1940’s when residents voted by an 8-7 margin to replace “Carcass Lane.” In the minds of many of the neighbors, the old name brought back unpleasant memories of a slaughterhouse previously located at the end of the street.