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Summertime in the BelgradesContentsfor Printing
Article Summaries |
The Twenties KitchenMy childhood kitchen was warm and cozy. The wide shelf was filled with personal belongings that had not been put away as yet by their owners. The dishes were done only after the evening meal as then water had to be heated only once a day. The result was that the sink was always cluttered with dirty dishes. Next to the sink hung the long roller hand towel. The lingering aroma of the latest meal filled our minds as well as the food had filled our stomachs. On the big black stove (first wood but later converted to kerosene) with its four lids and the water basin there was almost always a pot of lamb stew simmering. Sometimes keeping it company was a kettle of curdling milk destined to become homemade cottage cheese. This curdled milk, with a few additives, would later be found hanging in its gauze bag and dripping the whey into the sink as it dried out. Shades of Little Miss Muffett. In the doorway between the kitchen and the living room were hung curtains which were usually tied back. Part of the reason for these curtains was the quaint habit of hiding the kitchen from visitors. There were curtains of this type all over the house and were used additionally to keep the heat in or out as the case might be. There was a dining room off of the other side of the kitchen and we ate there most of the time. If we had a large gathering to eat — such as a school class or a multitude of relatives — Pa would take one of the garage doors off and set it on saw horses in the living room. In this case most of the furniture was relegated to the front porch. On Mondays the sawhorses and great tubs filled part of the kitchen for the weekly wash which always included sheets from our six beds. The hand wringer was attached to one of the tubs — pots of water were boiling on each of the stove lids — clothes were separated into different colored piles right on the kitchen floor which by this time had acquired a linoleum for the day. We watched while my mother twisted and slopped the wet wash, turning it upside down with the aid of a long flat stick that had a 'vee' cut into one end to help in picking up the clothes out of the boiling hot water. Turning the handle of the wringer was hard, particularly if the sheets were not fed into it correctly; it was wet and unpleasant work and it kept us tied up for most of the morning. Once when my brother Bob was the handle turner my mother's hair got caught in the wringer with the sheet. Everybody around was screaming including my mother. Thank God the manufacturers had installed a quick-release feature to the top of the wringer which Bob immediately pressed down and my mother escaped serious injury. Others in the family carried the baskets of heavy wet laundry out to the clothes lines where the clothes were hung to my mother's demanding requirements. Washcloths, handkerchiefs, and other small articles of clothing were spread on the grass or on bushes to dry because the sheets, tablecloths and other large things used up most of the clotheslines. Intimate pieces of wearing apparel were hidden behind the sheets in case of visitors coming by. Two other furnishings eventually occupied our kitchen. In the corner next to the cellar door was a small table used to collect things that were in the process of coming or going somewhere else. In later years that corner was the home of an icebox. In the corner next to the dining room door stood a piece of furniture which was quite a marvel. It had been given to us by a family who could afford a newer and improved one. (It seemed sometimes that everything we owned had been given to us by someone.) This cabinet stood almost ceiling high and contained shelves, buckets, bins and other types of containers and included the molding board for all manner of cooking needs. There were also two large conical bins with bottom outlets, one for flour and one for sugar. I was embarrassed when these bins were called "breasts." From My Memoirs, by Charlotte Robinson | ||