Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

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



Thursday, March 1, 2018

Marble(d) Dough


A couple of days ago, I spoke of finding a prize in my cake.
Turns out similar things have happened to others as well . . .
Husby comes from a large family. Five boys.
One girl.
The boys were . . . eaters.
Need I say more?
Fortunately, their mother was a fabulous cook and well capable of producing the large quantities of food needed with amazing regularity.
She was most famous for her bread. Something that had to emerge from her fragrant kitchen eight loaves at a time at least twice a week.
And she did it ‘Old School’.
Mixing the ingredients with a cakespoon in a large, ceramic bowl until the dough was too stiff, then dropping said spoon and kneading with the hands.
I know you know what I’m talking about.
The entire process fascinated her boys. And they were often close observers.
Just not for the reasons you might think . . .
Now, I probably don’t have to tell you that young boys are composed primarily (85% or so) of mischief.
With a goodly dose of ‘clever-little-monkey’.
And that those same boys have toys.
So: Boys-mischief-cleverness and toys. See where I’m going with this?
Keeping careful watch on their beloved parent’s actions, they would wait for just the right moment and, when she turned away for something or other they would . . .
. . . drop a marble into the bread dough.
Which was then kneaded in along with the deliciousness.
At which point they would run away.
Giggling maniacally.
Hey. I’m telling the story. I’ll tell it how I want.
Their mother knew, when she heard the laughter and the footsteps that ‘something’ had happened.
And, knowing her boys, had a pretty good idea of what.
She would search for whatever had just been dropped into her dough.
Occasionally, she would find it.
More often, not.
On those days, she would sigh and mold and bake and pray.
And just FYI, no teeth were broken in the making of this story.
It’s a good thing.
Like this. Only baked...

20 comments:

  1. This is Grant writing this (pay no attention to the signature on this posting) I hereby confess to all of the mischievous pranks ever perpetrated in the home and my little angelic brother Warren was never involved in any of them
    Sincerely
    GRANT

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Couldn't be Grant writing this confession! Grant only signs his confessions of guilt with the name "Warren".
      Original Anonymouser

      Delete
    2. Ahem. Maybe you guys should take this outside . . .

      Delete
  2. I'm relieved no teeth were broken (and I assume no one choked on a marble either) and I'm also laughing at the Anonymous comment above!!

    Another funny label, too :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yep. No breaking or choking. Won't rule out fisticuffs, though . . .

      Delete
  3. I grew up with four boys and the only girl so I rememeber this mischief well.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Knowing you, Rena, it wasn't the boys into the mischief. Confess now . . .

      Delete
  4. I can soooo see this happening since boys were involved!

    ReplyDelete
  5. This would make me so darn nervous!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I worry when there's a prize in the cereal!

      Delete
  6. Boys - they're all the same aren't they? Mischief just seems to come as part of the package (especially if they are in a group and spurring each other on!)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. My dad used to say: "One boy's a whole boy. Two boys are half a boy. And so on."

      Delete
  7. I remember my Mom baking bread the old way with three kids almost in the big dread pan. Mom would cut off a piece of dough for each of us and we would go off and play with the dough and not bother her.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Marbles?? Yikes. It IS a wonder no one broke a tooth!
    We never had any breadmakers in the family, we had a horse-drawn cart that came around daily instead, with bread fresh from the bakery.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh. My. Word. Tell me again why I wasn't raised in your neighbourhood?!

      Delete

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