Gyppo Logger by Margaret Elley Felt

Author:Margaret Elley Felt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: University of Washington Press
Published: 2017-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

My day as cook for a logging camp began early, at the bull cook’s call at 5:30. (That is, unless the crew had to “hoot-owl,” or work their shift early enough to be able to quit before the heat of the day. In that case, we arose at the indecent hour of 2:30 A.M.) I was unhappy on the cold mornings when I had to shiver into my clothes while the big, husky loggers got babied with a hot fire to get up and dress by. Finally, after a hint of revolt, I got my fire built too.

Upon arriving at the cookshack, I would find the bull cook busily setting the table, and the big gray coffeepots steaming on the hot stove; so my first job would be to measure the coffee into the pots. The pancakes were next to be mixed and set aside to leaven a bit. Into the pancake batter I chucked a half-dozen egg yolks, then frothed up the whites to lighten them. (This was to ease my conscience. If the loggers had to have pancakes, at least they wouldn’t lie like lumps of clay on their stomachs all morning.) Then I broke three or four dozen eggs into a couple of bowls, to fry at the same time as the sliced bacon Scotty had ready for me. The oven was a perfect place to cook the bacon slowly, in a large, deep cake pan.

Just before time to take up the bacon and eggs, I would start baking the pancakes. This made a bit of a scramble to get all of them off the stove and onto the table on time, but with a little practice I finally mastered it. I had to have at least eight pancakes baked ahead before the breakfast bell could be rung, but no more than that lest they become “sad,” as my father expressed it. With two big griddles, it was fairly easy to keep up with the demand. Just as fast as I could pour them onto the griddle, take the baked ones to the tables, get back, flip them, take them off onto the platters, pour out more onto the griddles, take them to the tables and back again, my “customers” made them disappear and sat waiting for more. But nobody complained, because waiting that few seconds insured everybody hot ones. Then, after a while, I would find a cake or two left on the platter when I retrieved it from the table, and knew the saturation point was near. Then I could run a little slower.

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