Hey, Sis, let's make something...

 

                                                    Robert Kent Peck 1951-1997, in red cowboy shirt

 All my life, my family has called me "Sis".  Now that there are only three of us, hearing "Sis" comes less and less frequently. That fact pulls out stories  about a few of those times.

My brother Robert was born January 14, 1951.  Then about eleven months later, I was born on December 4, 1951.  We were inseparable, sometimes enemies and sometimes friends.  But, always always we were ready to be there for the other.  

Robert was able to talk me into cook or bake a treat for him.  How, I don't know.  "Sis...let's make some..."  only he did not do the work. 

He convinced me to make deep-fried onion rings on Sunday afternoon. My hair smelled like onions even when we went to church at night.  Had to shampoo several times to remove that odor.  Then he thought frying up some bologna sounded good and I made that for him.  

But, Robert's favorites were anything sweet.  Again, he would say, "Sis...let's make some..." I would sigh, but there would quickly be some dessert of any type.

Here are some of his favorites, taken from Mom's cook book given to her as a wedding present in 1946. The binding is gone, pages fragile and crumbling. Lots of splatters and wear speak volumes.

God bless Betty Crocker.

Sis. How I would love to hear Robert say "Sis...let's make some..." again.  I probably would mix up hundreds of batches, just for him.

Lard for Life

 

                                                                                    Retro   

My farmer father with my brothers worked incredible hours to "put food on the table". Mom raised an immense garden to can and freeze. We ate well and were richly provided with food.  

So looking at the LARD and its happy people made me giggle. When a hog was taken to slaughter and butcher, we had tidily wrapped frozen good stuff in the freezer, and, as an added present, we had a new fresh 5 gallon tin of white lard.

The female ancestors of my family knew how to bake pies, oh boy, using lard for the crust. BEST CRUST ever. Fried chicken could not be more crispy and delicious except when fried in LARD. 

It

                                                            My mother would be horrified.

                                                               Gotta have it

                                                                                                                                         

So many stories about lard can be told, not all pleasant.

 

The journey continues with my hand. See the Dr. tomorrow. Please leave messages...your words are a bright spot in my day.

Happy Birthday, Robert

 

Robert Peck, 1951 - 1997

All my life, my family has called me "Sis".  Now that there are only three of us, hearing "Sis" comes less and less frequently. That fact pulls out stories  about a few of those times.

My brother Robert was born January 14, 1951.  Then about eleven months later, I was born on December 4, 1951.  We were inseparable, sometimes enemies and sometimes friends.  But, always always we were ready to be there for the other.  

Robert was able to talk me into cook or bake a treat for him.  How, I don't know.  "Sis...let's make some..."  only he did not do the work. 

He convinced me to make deep-fried onion rings on Sunday afternoon. My hair smelled like onions even when we went to church at night.  Had to shampoo several times to remove that odor.  Then he thought frying up some bologna sounded good and I made that for him.  

But, Robert's favorites were anything sweet.  Again, he would say, "Sis...let's make some..." I would sigh, but there would quickly be some dessert of any type.

Here are some of his favorites, taken from Mom's cook book given to her as a wedding present in 1946. The binding is gone, pages fragile and crumbling. Lots of splatters and wear speak volumes.

God bless Betty Crocker.

She taught many war brides how to cook.

Sis. How I would love to hear Robert say "Sis...let's make some..." again.  I probably would mix up hundreds of batches, just for him.

Robert is holding his son Tony. Robert was a big man, and Tony is now.  

Robert is on the left. His vision was so bad, and no one knew it until he was 2 or 3. I am on the right in a red gingham dress. Mom is holding me, I don't know how she survived. My father is the handsome dark man. His family were from the Iroquois tribes; he and his brother had features and skin color from that.  

Ruby in the kitchen Wednesday Words

 

Ruby dumped the yeast roll dough onto the wooden table. Brioche?  Were they serious? Brioche takes 24 hours to prove.  An hour or so of kneading and the dough was thrown into the proving drawer.  I hate making brioche.

Next was the apple cranberry crumble pie. Ruby, peeling apples and cranberries were nothing. In an hour, the pie was pulled all bubbling from the oven.  I love apple pie!

All was well until the word PI popped up.  PI ? 

Everyone knows 43⋅(π(5)3) Sheesh.

Timer rang, and Ruby felt her duty for the honor of St. Catherine's Women Auxiliary was met.  Cleaning and wiping baking materials, Ruby was done. 

 

Ingredients for Classic French Brioche

• 2 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/4 cup nonfat dry milk
• 3 tablespoons granulated sugar
• 1 teaspoons salt
• 1 tablespoon instant yeast

 

Nana Moves In

Source

A dull day, that is what this is,dull gray.  Samuel thought as he looked up from a coloring project to The Mother.  She was making a cake for Nana, who was moving in with them. 

Grammy had moved in with Aunt Tammy Whammy when she decided she was ‘out of her depth’ with Samuel.  Out of her depth?  Samuel smiled at the words.  The old lady was drowning in the deep-end.  He continued working on a “Welcome, Nana!” sign.  The mother had written the words, although Samuel believed he could have conveyed the message better with his fiery bombs and flaming people.  Oh, well, whatever.

The mother had just poured the batter into the 8 ½ x 11 pan when the doorbell rang.  Jehovah Witnesses or young Mormon men?  She would prefer the young Mormons.  When she didn’t return right away, Samuel nodded.  The men.  Well, then. 

Samuel climbed down from his chair and ran to the opposite side of the table to peer into the cake better.  Oh, Fun-Fetti.  This is perfect. 

Thinking on the fly was one of his many gifts.  Scooping up some bits of broken crayons, Samuel carefully placed and pushed them into the cake.  Maybe a few more on this side?  After effectively burying the crayon shreds, Samuel returned to the sign, innocent by all accounts.

The Mother returned to the table, smiling and blushing.  Nothing like religion to make one happy.  She placed the cake into the preheated oven, and cleaned up the kitchen, humming happily.  Every now and then, she gave Samuel a nervous smile.

Samuel returned her smile.  “You okay there, Buddy?  Wanta play a video game?”  Okay?  I am juuuust fine. 

The timer rang and The Mother carefully removed the cake from the oven and placed it on the high counter.  Leaving the oven door open just enough to let the oven cool, The Mother ran to the bathroom.  The bathroom door closed.

Oh, woman.  Do you even think about the possibilities?  Samuel peered at the partially open door, and silently lowered it down.  Still hot, but not dangerous.  Grabbing some broken crayons, Samuel tossed them onto the oven shelves and bottom.  Oh, how lovely.  Samuel watched at the colored pieces spread out and pool in rainbow glory.  Silently Samuel closed the oven door, knowing The Mother would never notice.

The Mother returned.  “Nap time, young man.  For you and me both.” 

Samuel acquiesced, holding her hand lovingly.  The Mother was confused, but accepted this new step in Samuel’s life:  possible obedience.

In his room, Samuel listened for new sounds.  When the front door slammed and happy voices sounded, he knew Nana had arrived.  He listened as Nana spoke about the big roast she had ready to cook.  The oven will be heated up next.  He felt a tickle of anticipation.

Source

The smell of scorched crayon filled the house.  Oh, glory!

“SAMUEL!”  A dull gray day transformed into one of joyful color. 

Source