Homebodies - Would we really want to? Or simply talk about it?
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- Published on Sunday, June 7, 2015
By Rita Friesen
The Neepawa Banner
As the scoop of original plain yogurt settled in the bowl, a flood of memories rushed through my mind. Go back to a hot muggy summer afternoon on the farm. We have been out fencing in the swampy bush land, stung by mosquitoes and pesky black flies, face whipped by wily branches. Or baling clover on the back 40. Sweat dripping down, stinging tired eyes, and the abrasive clover stems shredding jeans and wearing leather gloves to a soft pliant texture.
You know the type of day. No air conditioner in the home, the cook as hot and tired as the field hands. Meal time, a time to rest, breathe deep and share thoughts. And there, coming out the fridge, the old green glazed bowl filled with ‘dicke milch’. Thickened milk. The unpasteurised milk from the jersey cows had been left on the counter overnight and it had thickened to a wonderful gelatinous mass. Thick enough to slice with a knife. And on the table, beside the heritage green bowl, was another smaller, matching one, filled with hard boiled eggs. Eggs from the mixed flock running around the yard. The evening meal consisted of those two ingredients, the eggs sliced by a tinny device created just for the slicing of eggs. A little salt and pepper and the meal sufficed.
‘Knack saat’, sunflower seeds roasted in the oven, a staple for an evening of crokinole and Chinese checkers. Some farm families grew a few special plants in the kitchen garden, others gleaned from the fields. In a shallow, darkened from use, cake or cookie pan, the seeds would be carefully watched and stirred as they roasted. Farm homes were more casual than most homes today, and in one home where I was always welcome, as the family sat around cracking seeds, they were allowed to let the hulls simply drop to the floor. Sweeping up at the end on the day solved the problem.
A source of family laughter was the kids or grandkids coming in and seeing Ed watching baseball, a generic grocery bag hooked over his ears, not unlike a feed bag on the old horse, carefully spitting the hulls into the bag!
‘Spits’ were in the glove box, or on the seat, of the farm truck, in the combine and in the tractor. They were a staple.
Today, both yogurt and sunflower seeds are always in my kitchen. However, the yogurt comes in flavours, fat free, two percent, etc.Not sure how nutritious the substance is. The sunflower seeds I purchase are pre-shelled, compact. I sprinkle them on top of my cereal, steal a handful for snacking.
For the price of one package I could plant a garden row, or two. I wonder about eating healthy. I wonder about the cost of feeding a growing family. If we could go back to growing our own food, processing our own food, would we really want to? Or simply talk about it?
