Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



Sunday, September 4, 2011

Bread Heels


Worth fighting for . . .
In the Stringam household of eighty years ago, all food was prepared from scratch.
Processed or instant foods simply didn't exist.
Nothing came packaged from the store.
Bread was something that emerged, nearly every day, from the large oven.
No other option was possible.
No other option was needed.
Grandma's crusty, fresh bread, hot from the oven, was the favourite food of my Dad's family of nine brothers and sisters and their home was nearly always awash in the wonderful smell.
Mmmmmm.
But each large, beautiful loaf only had two ends.
Because bad manners hadn't been invented yet, it never occurred to Dad and his siblings that they could do anything about that.
Side note: My husband and his brothers, the creators of bad manners, would cut off every available surface – sides, top, bottom – after the ends had been claimed.
But I digress . . .
So, as the time drew nearer for the family to assemble for the evening meal, Grandma Stringam would slice one entire loaf of fresh, warm bread.
And place it neatly on a platter to go to the table.
That was about the time that every child in the house would suddenly appear.
And wrestle each other for the privilege of 'helping'.
The only time in the history of the world that that would happen.
Moving on . . .
Carefully, the winner would carry the precious platter of warm deliciousness to the table and park it in the centre.
Then he would quickly snatch one of the two crusty ends and set it on his own plate.
At first, this 'claim' was all that was needed.
But not for long.
Finally, the sacred placing of the bread on an individual's plate wasn't sufficient as a deterrent because as soon as the bread was placed and the claimer gone, someone else would creep in and slide said crusty slice of yumminess to their own plate.
Then the next person would do the same.
And the next.
This would go on until everyone assembled for the actual meal.
Whoever possessed it at that time . . . won.
Sort of like a game of 'hot potato', but better.
As time went by, more and more sneakiness was required.
The bread was placed under the plate.
Under the napkin.
Stabbed with the owner's fork.
The owner's knife.
Finally, in full view of whoever happened to be waiting in the wings for their turn, the possessor would stick out his (or her) tongue and lick the back of the hotly contested piece of bread.
Okay, remember what I said about manners?
Forget it.
Then place the now-thoroughly-claimed prize on their plate.
The entire contest came to a screeching halt.
But only for a while . . .

5 comments:

  1. Mmmmmm...home made bread hot from the oven dripping with butter and grams home made jam...a tiny taste of heaven.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Yum! This made me want to bake bread and keep both ends for myself!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Oh, I've missed you ... disaster struck in my house while Doc was gone, so my blogging hasn't been happening.

    I remember the first time I saw somebody cut off the crusts of the bread and I just couldn't understand what the heck they were doing ... until I tasted the difference between homemade and store bread.

    Sad thing is that I still grab for the heal of the bread ... I don't think I've taught my kids about them because Doc and I grab them first ... such bad parents we are :)

    ReplyDelete
  4. I'm so lucky because my kids all hate the ends so I get them all to myself.

    My bucket of wheat ran dry in the house over a month ago and I can't get my hubs to get me another bucket out of the storeroom...

    Thanks for reminding me to get after him to get me some so I can make some bread. It's been several weeks and it sure sounds good tonight!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Funny I can't get my kids to eat the heel of bread but then ours is store bought:)

    ReplyDelete

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