Enough Part V

Meanwhile back on the farm, by 1954/55 we had electricity, and we were 'cooking with gas'. I don't remember what kind of cook stove my grandmother had, but I'm almost certain it was a gas stove. We had a 100 pound bottle of propane hooked up right outside the east dining room window and the stove sat in the north corner under the cupboards where the dishes and important papers were kept. I've cooked over a campfire, and on a wood stove and at times getting the fire to 1) start and 2) burn at the right temperature can be a real challenge. I'm not sure that my interpretation is correct, but to me the phrase 'cooking with gas,' means they are cooking right along, not being hindered by trying to start the fire, keep it going, or worry about the right temperature.

One thing about those old gas stoves, the cook had to light the burners on top. In the middle between the burners we had our 'grease keeper' and some sort of spoon rest. The grease keeper did just that. When there was excess bacon grease it was poured into a grease keeper then used later for frying sundry things. When grandma was cooking and would light the burners (with a wooden match or a book match) she would most always put the burnt match on the spoon rest. We often teased her because there were very few meals we didn't end up with a match left in one of the dishes of food. Whoever found the match would hold it up as if they had won the prize, and all at the table would laugh. I don't remember who lived with my grandparents at this time. My sister and I were rather constant residents, but on occasions my cousin Coco stayed for a couple of years. Coco was a year older than I, my sister was six years older than I was, and Coco's sister was ten years older than I was. Sometimes we were all there, but Coco's sister wasn't there often or long.

Farm women earned 'their' money by selling cream, eggs, and a few other items to store owners. During the depression era this was one way they could make ends meet in raising the family. I don't know when the practice, or ability was forced to come to an end. When I was very young I vaguely remember Grandma taking cream and eggs into the 'creamery' and selling them. I also remember our 'separator', that they used to separate the cream from the milk. It sat in the kitchen like a black spider with two shiny aluminum spigots. Milk was poured in the (I think it was) large aluminum bowl on top. Skim milk came out one spigot and cream came out the other. The aluminum parts had to be washed up, and I believe warm or hot water was poured in the top to wash the rest of the operation. After they no longer sold cream or eggs the separator disappeared--probably stored in the grain bin. Grandpa would bring the bucket of creamy milk into the kitchen and Grandma would pour it through a cloth 'strainer' to catch anything that shouldn't be there. I don't remember there ever being anything to strain out, but it was a precaution. She would rinse out the cloth and hang it on the spring that closed the screen door on the back door. One morning while I was in the kitchen I had to back up quickly for some unknown reason and sat down in the bucket of milk waiting to be strained. That was a bad way to start my morning...and Grandma was not happy either.