Jul. 22, 2002 - 23:10 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

Alien In The Kitchen

It was only a few short years really. Like most of my memories of way back then. But they still stand out vibrant and alive.

Canning season seemed to last for quite a long time in the summer as different things became available. For a time my Grandmother lived across the alley from us. Now it must have been a very small time envelope because Momma started back to work shortly after I began primary school, so that would have been the time between my first awareness and starting school that I built tonights memories on. I think that many of my memories seem to have been forever, but lasted only a short while.

There was no program nailed against the wall but I could tell when something was up just by the way Momma acted. Pretty soon we would go across the alley to Grandma's where there was heat and the smell of cooking stuff and also of exotic spices. There would be Mason jars fresh out of the boiling water waiting to receive the items being worked on at that time. Pots and kettles, stirring and pouring, steamy air. The complicated and scientific operation of filling the jars and sealing them was exciting to a small kid. Was never lucky enough to beg samples of any of that stuff, but did enjoy eating of it later when it was needed.

Chow-chow, Pickalilly (sp?), tomato preserves (the only sweet tomato concoction I have ever liked), and many other things were canned that I knew not a whit concerning. It was almost like being around watching the White Witches brewing their good potions, leading me to thinking of how winter time would be more livable because of the industry of Momma and Grandma.

Makes me wonder, how did stuff put up in Mason Jars become called canned ? Canned stuff was stored in the cool of the basement and brought up as needed, an operation I elbowed my way into and conned Dad into letting me carry a jar or two. How proud I was to be helping, how high each step was and how teetery I was carrying that stuff up.

I still wouldn't know how to can anything, its still a world apart from this man. But how marvelous were the end results of the sweaty, steamy, back tiring labor of Momma and Grandma.

When I would cautiously come into where the magic was being made I would be an Alien In The Kitchen . . . . . . . .

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