Remembering what's for supper, and for breakfast, too

I grew up in Arthur County in the heart of the Sandhills in Nebraska. If you want to find it on the map, search for Arthur, Nebraska. Once you see the town of Arthur, which has a population of about 150, go about five miles north and two east. There is only one place about right there for miles. That is where I grew up.

Everyone up in the hills pretty much raised everything they ate. There used to be two grocery stores in Arthur; now there is one small one. Back then, everyone I knew raised a big garden so they had tomatoes, corn and potatoes. These three were the staples. They would can lots of whole tomatoes or tomato juice. Mom would can a bunch of potatoes as well. Normally, they would freeze the corn. The main freezer was about a 1950 International Harvester chest freezer.

My grandpa, who was a mason, had built a cellar, so we stored the potatoes in the cellar. In the spring, there were still enough potatoes to plant next summer's crop. When we went in the cellar for potatoes, we'd have to break off the runners on the potatoes. We raised our own beef and pork and did our own butchering. Every year we'd raise a hundred or more chickens, keep some for new laying hens and the rest we'd butcher and freeze.

Most all our neighbors came from Europe at one time or another. Many were immigrants who came to the U.S., learned English and became citizens. There were the McElhenys, Johnsons, Neilsons, Monharts, McMullens and the list goes on. My grandparents from Mom's side came from Denmark and Germany. One thing about all of them is they could cook -- not fancy food where you have to have a whole grocery store in the pantry, but just good food.

Most everyone was a good keeper, so there were very few skinny ones. My Aunt Johanna was probably the skinniest one I can remember. Grandma and Mom and the rest of her sisters were pleasantly plump. Boy, could they cook.

Mom never made much bread, but my grandma could. Her bread was just unreal. When it came out of the oven back in the '50s, and you put a good helping of home-churned butter on it, you almost thought you had died and gone to heaven. Grandpa liked those little round hard pieces of toast called rusk. It didn't stack up to Grandma's bread.

My mom could cook as well. Mom would go to the chicken yard and get an old hen or rooster, chop off its head, clean it up and then start cooking. If it was a young hen or rooster, Mom would grab it by the neck, make a couple circles with her hand and she would have a headless chicken. When she got the time, she would make a bunch of dough and make noodles. She would roll the dough out real thin and then lay it out to dry.

There would be dough everywhere -- on the kitchen table and on the counters -- everywhere! I remember, when she wasn't looking, Mick and I'd sneak some of the raw noodles. When the dough was dry enough, she would slice the noodles as thin as she could. When the chicken had cooked enough to be tender, she would add the noodles. Chicken and noodles! Sometimes she would take some simple dough and drop spoons of dough on top of the chicken and noodles, and thus you had chicken and noodles and dumplings. Good!

Many a morning Mom or Dad would get me up and I'd take old Shorty or Strippy -- two of our horses -- and go get the milk cows in. (Getting up early didn't seem to bother my learning in school. But then we went to bed at night.) By the time I got back with the cows, they would have breakfast ready: some kind of meat like bacon or sausage, fried or poached eggs, biscuits or pancakes or waffles or toast and some kind of juice. This might be orange juice, which they bought. It might also be grape juice or tomato juice, which Mom and Dad made. After breakfast we milked the cows, got ready for school and then Mom or Dad took us the four miles to school.

When you sat down to a meal, whether it was at Mom's or Mary Frye's or Grandma's or Rose's or Lela's, you better be hungry. And no matter whether it was breakfast or dinner or supper, it was a real meal.

But it was more than just a meal. There was no hurry eating unless you were starving, so the meal may last an hour or more. So you talked about the day and the neighbors and your friends. You might talk about the cows or the dog or the chickens or the tractors. You might talk about what you wanted to do tomorrow.

And then there were times when the food was so good you just sat and ate in silence, no sounds but the crickets. Silence!

Sad, but that's not the case today. Get the kids up and get them dressed, crank out a piece of toast and smooth on some stuff -- and that's breakfast. Fill a bowl with cereal, dump in some milk and -- voilà ! -- it's breakfast. Call a pizza place and order supper. Or drive down to some fast-food place for a burger and fries. Today the kids eat school lunches prepared by the school employees. At least these are decent lunches. We took our lunches in Roy Rogers or Superman lunchboxes.

Many in rural America still follow the old ways of actually sitting down for three meals a day. I like that. I can't think of anything more enjoyable then sitting down with family or friends around a table loaded with good food and enjoying each other's friendship and the food together. The next best thing would be to sit with family or friends around cups of coffee and a snack. I sure wish I was sitting with my brother and sisters (one doesn't like coffee) having coffee together.

Have a good one,

Until next time.