Friday, May 29, 2009

Still Cottage Dreaming - Breakfast



From my childhood perspective the cottage was heaven, but for my grandmother who had to keep it clean, cook and serve meals, and wash our clothes, it was back to the way she had grown up on the family farm (which was within a mile of the cottage). She never complained. There was no running water, just a pump out by the lake where buckets had to be filled and hauled back to the kitchen. There was no electricity, just lanterns, a hand-cranked Victrola, a wood stove that had to chop and stack wood for. No refrigerator, just an icebox that Grandpa had to buy ice for from the old Brechin Icehouse a few miles away. I remember at some point being in charge of making the toast at breakfast. The toaster was a wire contraption that you clamped your two pieces of bread between and held and turned over the flames. And as long as we're on breakfast which was revered in our household, I would comment that everyone who was usually there, Uncle Bruce, Aunt Ethel, Grandpa, my mom Catherine, me and Grandma, all liked their toast differnt ways, almost burned, very light, just warmed. So being the toast person was more complex than one might think. If there was no fish there was bacon. The usual introduction of the plate of bacon coming to the table included Grandma or mom or Ethel saying, "this is Bruce's (looking a little raw), this is Andrew's (cripsy but not black), this is ..." well, you get the picture. Eggs too were done to order!