She grew up in an era that was void of all the technologies that are available today. She was born on a farm in 1919, the youngest of three and her mother was 42 years old at the time. Her father farmed with a team of horses and when she was old enough, she road one to school about a half mile down the road. This was her life and her world, this was Mother.
She lived her youth during a time when life on the farm was pretty much were you spent most of your time. A trip to town was a rare event, so there was no running to the grocery store everyday looking for something for supper. Practically everything they ate, they raised.
The first time she told me about sausage day I thought she was joking. She assured me she was not and this is how the story went.
Sausage day was a great day on the farm. All the family gathered along with the hired help because it took a team effort to pull this off. First, of course, the hog had to be butchered. Then the meat was ground up, no electric grinders either, they had a hand crank model. After the meat was seasoned it was formed into patties and fried in a big skillet. The patties were layered in big stone crocks and when the crock was full the fat, lard, was poured into the crock until it covered the patties. After the fat, aka lard, cooled and solidified the crocks were put in the cellar, aka basement. Now here's the good part....whenever the hankering for some sausage arose, all that had to be done was to go to the cellar, scrape off the lard and dig out as many patties that were needed.
The sausage lasted a long time and all this was done without the aid of a health inspector, clipboard in hand, peering over their shoulder. Had there been one they probably would have died from shock and then buried somewhere on the farm in an unmarked grave.
After I regained my composure, I asked her if they ground up the entire porkster. She said "All but the hams." Those were packed with salt, keep in mind they are fresh off the critter, and then wrapped in many layers of newspaper. Once that was accomplished, said hams were hung in a shed to cure. When a ham was needed all that needed to be done was to scrape off the paper, salt and mold and TA DA! there was your cured ham. On occasion, the mold won this curing contest and that ham had to be scrapped. I was never really fond of ham and even less so after this.
My husband's mother was born and raised on the island of Maui in Hawaii. She was the youngest of thirteen children and they took another child in to their home after her. They lived about as far away from anyone as you can get on an island in a small house that still stands today, and it's not much easier to get to now as it was back then. Plus, they didn't have electricity unless it was provided by a generator. Her food tale was fish day.
Being surrounded by the Pacific Ocean, fish were plentiful and when you had sixteen mouths to feed, they came in mighty handy. The fish were caught and taken home. Once they were cleaned they were hung on a fence to dry in the open air and sun. Yum, fish jerky. The picture she painted in my head that day is as vivid to me now as when she shared it. I could see a long fence row with fishes hanging in each square of wire, flapping in the breeze. I forgot to ask her what they used to hang them with, but in my picture they used clothes pins. I looked at her and said "Better not tell your grandchildren that one, they'll think you are old." She laughed and said "I know, I grew up with the dinosaurs!"
Yes, those were simpler times for sure. They had no TVs, video games or a convenience store on the nearest corner. Their food was not laden with preservatives, they knew how to cook and play outside. I wonder if it would do this young generation any good to have sausage, ham and fish day?
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