Saturday, July 19, 2014

One of My Many Time Machines

I need pages and pages.  So I need to write a story and keep it here on the computer because all I want to say here is far far FAR too long for a blog.  No one would care about my Time Machine really, and to go into exquisite detail would intensify the readers boredom.

So, briefly (if you call this brief) I was talking to a dear friend on the phone about food  The food of the South is distinctly different than the North or midwest.  I described Daddy's cooking as he is the one who reared me and my two brothers.  He always made a big Sunday dinner for us for all the years we lived there at home with him. There would be (of course Southern) fried chicken, pan made gravy, biscuits, his excellent salad, home cooked and snapped by him green beans, potatoes that were buttered and in quarters...not mashed.  A cake made with cake flour and home made icing.  I learned at his knee and after reaching my early teens I took that over mostly.

There is something Daddy had at all times when he cooked.  He used it as a tester, a food turner, a tenderness indicator and as a whisk.  When he was finished with all those functions and after putting the meal on the table, it was his personal fork.  Here it is.  Aluminum tines, a wooden handle and two brads of aluminum to hold it all together.  Oh this is an old old fork.  Daddy had it when he and mother were married back in The War Between the States times.  When he passed away (Oh, my friends, I still miss him terribly and it has been many years) I took this fork that was so sweet a reminder of him to me from my childhood home.  I wanted to use it myself I missed him so terribly but I never did.  It is still darkly stained if you will, by a VERY very VERY long time of use.   I would never do anything to remove that old old dark "patina" nor refurbish this fork in any way,  The only thing that he didn't do is bend the tines.  That is my fault through the years.

I had told my friend how a Southerner cooks fried apples.  They are not dessert-like in the least.  I see Daddy standing at the gas stove, after putting the cut-up green apples into the cast iron frying pan with some lard in there all melted, and shaking a few teaspoons of table sugar onto them while "stirring" them about with that fork.  Then, turning them with a spatula.  The whole cooking period was only 10-13 minutes or so.  They went with certain meats we had, usually pork chops or ham.  Green peas as well.  I will close this.  Sorry.  I saw and remembered the fork and I had to tell just that part of daddy's story.
  xo



21 comments:

  1. Wonderful story Carole. Most of our family old things were lost in the war, but I still a few old things from after the war.

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    1. Thank you Horst I'm glad you understood where I was coming from.

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  2. Do you mean the fork was passed down to your dad from your Civil War era? If so, pretty neat! I'd be thinking about all the relatives who would have used it! Definitely a treasure.

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    1. I was just joking about when Dad and Mother were married. Joking about my advanced tottering age. xo

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  3. Excellent. Yes, you need to record these stories. They are important. I really enjoyed this, my friend. ~xoxo~

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  4. Love and prayers to you Sis.. I know how it is.. I am finding many of my parents things now that I am moving...it is very emotional for sure.. Take care

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  5. Love and prayers to you Sis.. I know how it is.. I am finding many of my parents things now that I am moving...it is very emotional for sure.. Take care

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    1. Thank you Caroldee, you for certain would understand.

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  6. Rosemary B here:
    cute and wonderful memory. That is a cool fork. do you hang it on the wall, or keep it in a drawer? My parents, as you know, went through WW2, There was NO food. most people starved to death. The Nazi's took everything
    A good book to read about that is The Hunger Winter...
    Anyway, I love this story because you still have the visual memory in your head. You dad treasured it too
    My parents have a house full of treasures. Very interesting to go through mom and dad's things since they are both still alive I DO bring those things to them and ask. My dad, I find, saves everything. He wrote a very detailed diary while he was a "worker for the Germans" and his locations and such. He thought his adventure was pretty cool but he did see a lot of death and trauma. He still has a lot of things, boxes full of old bills, those really have to go, but when I was born, the bill was $25. So,that is pretty interesting that he still has that bill.
    I have a lot of mom's kitchen supplies, a flour sifter, a potato masher and some other stuff, Now I am the saver.... what do I do with this stuff I cannot throw away?

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  7. Love this. This is the kind of things that are near and dear to all of our hearts and wonderful to hear about.

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  8. Me again:
    just to explain: My dad was taken up in a razzia in Holland in 1943 I believe.
    The men were gathered up to do work that the Nazi's men could not do because they were fighting in the war. So my dad was basically a work prisoner. He was with all sorts of men together for a year. they became good friends but never kept in touch after.

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  9. I think you could safely call that a food tuning fork!

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  10. What a sweet memory. I loved reading your dad's story! My dad didn't cook. There was a thing in Japan when I was a child, that men should not enter kitchen, or, women should cook. I remember only once he cooked when my mom got sick and stayed in bed. The meal was burned, which gave me chuckle. I knew he did his best :-)
    I'm sure your dad wouldn't mind the tines were bent. He would be so happy that you've been keeping his fork for all these years xoxo

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  11. M here: What a great story Carole. That fork reminds me of the Granny Forks I use for cooking - much like your daddy did. Your Daddy's fork had a much nicer handle tho. What a great heirloom you have to help you remember those wonderful days. Hugs.

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  12. Yes I agree with the others a bloody great story

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  13. Oh that is a lovely story and you will always hold it close to your heart. Such sweet memories. Carry on the good stories.
    Enjoy your day x

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  14. Hi Si!
    If you call this brilf you was talking yo with your friend on the phone about FOOD. Daddy's cooking as he is the the one who reared you and your two brothers. when he made a big sunday dinners there would be of course southen the fried Chicken pan make gravy.and biscuits salad and green beans potatols.your early teem you took that over mostly I can see that sis!
    your was so sweet a remender of him to you from childhood home.
    The only thing that he didnt do is bend the times that us my faulk through the years.
    you has good remembered with your Daddy's and you are still very same as Fried Chicken pan make gravy for all of your children's always just keep up Sis!
    I love you Sis! I hope we can keep up our life please keep up your eyes with your bodys and Katie's us well.
    xoxoxo
    Sis, Katie,Miyuki and Victoria,
    Michiko

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  15. You dad sounds like he was a really great cook and what better then his fork to keep those memories alive. Oh those fried apples sure sound good.

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  16. How wonderful and dear. Thanks for sharing a piece of your dad. He is so much a part of what makes you, "you".

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  17. Thank you for sharing these beautiful and very moving memories with us, Carole.

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  18. I understand about the fork. I have some old utensils from my mother. Some she gave me when I was young. A peeler, a masher, a 2-tine roast fork... I'm sure they meant little to her and that she was glad to get newer ones. Well, maybe. That peeler is the best one I've ever had (and I bought a new one once thinking it would be better). It was good, but not "better". The old one has been used for so long, the middles are worn. Like a (). The handles are raw metal and would seem hard to hold, but they aren't. It is the single best kitchen tool I own (well, OK, except for the Wusthof knives I bought at a going-out-of-business sale).

    But when she died and Dad said "come get stuff" I got a set on corn on the cob plates. Weird oblong containers for one ear. Ceramic, painted, and glazed. I loved them from childhood. And there were a few other items like that. Small items can mean a lot.

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