Because gas
was rationed, our milk was still delivered by horse and wagon.
I would rush into the street to see the horse. The highlight of
my day was when the horse would look my way and neigh. I would
report to whoever happened to be there that the horse said hello
to me. The days the horse did not communicate crushed me. My wounds
were soothed, though, when someone explained that the horse had
a heavy load to pull and might not have felt well. Those were
the days before homogenization and the cream was poured off the
top of the icy bottle for use in coffee. All my family seemed
to love cream in their coffee.
Lard came
in a tightly sealed brick with a large red dot in the center.
When first brought home, it was hard from refrigeration. But my
mother softened it to room temperature, and then the fun began.
The red dot needed to be popped and the brick kneaded until the
red dye mixed with the white lard, creating yellow butter! Real
butter was a luxury few could afford during the depression and
early war years. The task of making butter fell to me and I developed
many fine techniques to accomplish the task. Among them were kicking
and stomping on the lard when no one was looking.
My family
was 2nd and 3rd generation American, but still tied to the cooking
styles of the old countries, England, Ireland and Germany. Meat
and potatoes were the order of the day and every respectable supper,
except on Fridays, had to contain them. Vegetables were served
in the English style - as tea sandwiches or side salads. Here
are two that live in my memory.
Cucumber
salad: Slice a cucumber on the diagonal into very thin slices.
Blend one tablespoon apple cider vinegar with one teaspoon sugar.
Sprinkle on cucumbers and toss well. Serve chilled.
Radish
sandwich: Place thinly sliced radishes in several layers on
buttered bread, with salt and pepper to taste.
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