Looking Back by Linda K. Hubalek

Author:Linda K. Hubalek
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Swedish immigrant stories, pioneer woman stories, woman's letters, fiction series, christian fiction
Publisher: Butterfield Books Inc.
Published: 2016-02-08T00:00:00+00:00

Wednesday, July 23rd

GREASED WITH BUTTER and lined up across the table in front of me are the six loaf pans that fit in my oven. Yesterday noon I cooked extra potatoes for the yeast starter. After dinner, I mashed them fine and mixed with a little salt, sugar, flour, water, and a yeast cake. Set aside and left alone, the mixture fermented all afternoon. Last night after supper, I added cooled scalded milk and cold water, then kneaded in warm flour to make a stiff dough. I returned it to the mixing bowls and covered it for the night. This morning I'm kneading the dough down to be divided into individual loaves for the pans.

I've baked bread every Wednesday and Saturday for over fifty years. Years ago I baked two batches twice a week. After the children left, I didn’t bake nearly as many unless company or the threshing crew was coming. I'm baking the full oven load again today because of the help we'll have here the rest of the week for the sale and move. We'll be handing out sandwiches right and left to hungry people the next three days.

I had both the kitchen and utility room stoves stoked and going before the rooster crowed this morning. The rolling pin clanged and bumped out eight pie crusts first thing. Instead of lard, I used blocks of suet that I still had in the cellar. It makes excellent pie crusts. I draped the thin crust over the lined-up pie tins, and Mabel went down the row, scooping canned fruit filling into each one. Two apple, two peach, one mulberry, one grape, and two cherry. That got rid of a few more jars from the cellar. A dot of butter into each pan and another round of crusts on top. Pinching the two crusts together I sealed the edges against the rim of the tins. Slits to let the steam rise out of the crust during baking are appropriately cut to tell what kind of pie each is. “A” for the apple, “P” for peach, and so on. After pouring a little milk on top and sprinkling some sugar on each, they were ready to bake.

The loaves of bread are growing too rapidly underneath the towels that are draped across the floured tops. During the summer they rise so fast in the heat. During the winter, when the house is chilly, you wonder if the loaves will ever raise enough to bake.

The loaves need to get in the oven, but the pies aren’t done yet. I can tell from the smell of the crusts when they are at the right tint of brown, and they aren’t at that stage yet!

Trying to keep my patience with the stove, I go through my recipes looking for a certain one. What would I do without this old book? I started handwriting recipes in a school composition book years ago. Over the years I've collected recipes from friends and family and included them in the book.

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