The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1889-11-27
GrandmOther's Thanksgiving
Pudding.

When we all went up to grandmoth-
cr's for Thanksgiving it was like the
going up of the Israelites with their
wives and their little ones" there were
so many of us. Grandmother had six
daughters and four sons, and all but
Aunt Eunice were married. She lived
at home on "the old place." so,
although grandfather had been dead
several years, things held together and
went on much as they had done, for
Aunt Eunice, of course, knew grand
mothers ways" as did Letitia, the
house servant. The farm was let on
shares, but that did not affect the hab-
its of its owner. Harvest time still
meant the storing of vegetables in the
cellar bins, the filing of the pork barrel
aud the curing of hams and shoulders.
do not think we could have been
persuaded that Thanksgiving day was
possible away from the New England
hill-farm and the full bins and barrels,
or that a Thanksgiving feast could be
prepared without an oldfasbioned
brick oven. The heating of it was in
itself ceremony. Small, round sticks
of oven-wood were laid evenly within
it, and when they had turned to red
Goals, and the baking of a bit of dough
had proved the heat, then all were
drawn out and the oven floor was swept
clean. Such apple and mince aud
deep-dished pumpkin-pies as were then
slid in from what seemed to be flat
tened pitch-fork! Such brown-bread-
shaped by hands dipped in cold water
and by them laid tenderly upon board
as it slowly expanded and grew sweet
and crisp in the warm, clear atmosphere
which only burned wood can make !!
Such a puddjHg as emerged, Thanks
giving morning, to crown the feast! or
a deep copper color in the curds and
yellow jelly in the whey, studded with
plump raisins and fragrant with spices
it stands alone in history! And 9,
richness upon richness, it was covered
with white of egg" and served with
cream. There was halo of romance
about it, too, for it baked all night in an
iron kettle, and some one had to sit up
till midnight to stir it, We older chill
dren-over siXteen-1rew lots for this
privilege. There must be two, girl
cousin and boy cousin, out of the
score who were " OF pudding age" as
cousin Rob facetiOusly put it. The
girl cousin did the stirring and the boy
cousin protected her. There were nuts
and apples provided to beguile the
time and mugs of sweet cider to keep
them both awake. 1t came to be an
important question, Who will stir the
pudding this year?-and those on whom
the lot fell were deemed in luck.
My head was running upon some
thing else, however, this year of which
l write. Now, grandma" l said,
firmly, upon arriving at the farmhouse,
" there is one thing | am determined
to have, and that is the recipe for your
baked Indian pudding"
| had been taking cooking lessons in
Boston and was keen on the scent of
new dainty to add to my list.
"Well, really, child" laughed
grandma, 81 haven't any recipe, but
you may watch me put it together"
So the day before Thanksgiving |
took my place by the kitchen table, on
the alert to catch every turn of the
spoon or sprinkle of spice.
How much milk is that?" / cried,
as she commenced to pour the white
fluid into the double boiler.
She laughed softly and took up a
quart measure. "Just about two quarts
my dear; and you thicken it with Indian
meal, as you would for hasty pud-
ding - stir-about,' some folks call it,"
so measure it, grandma, please" |
implored, and she filed teacup four
times, then she stirred into the mixture
two cupfuls Of sugar and two of mo-
lasses, ginger and nutmeg and salt,
raisins and suet-here | lost count
somewhat, but there were at least four
big spoonfuls of suet chopped fine.
After she had cooked them a few min
utes together, she put them into big
iron kettle, already buttered, and added
milk enough to make eight quarts.
" Now, who is going to stir it?" she
asked, turning back, with a rosy face,
from the fire. My face was rosy, too,
but not with heat, as / answered
quickly, " We don't know yet" / was
thinking of something my brother
Harry's college chum had whispered
to me when he was voted temporary
cousin while he made one of us at
grandmother's.
Well, the pudding cooked slowly
through the remaining two hours till
sunset, when, with laughter and jests,
we gathered in the kitchen to draw for
the stirring. Dick Aylmer, the stem
porary cousin" had found some late
spears of grass which served for "lots."
OF course, / know he meant to be fair,
just as | aid, but one spear of grass
was easier for me to draw than were
the others, and it happened to be the
longest. And then, when Harry held
them for the boys, giving up his chance
to draw, fear he favored Dick, for
twinkling glance passed between them.
1t was an innovation, this sitting up
with some one not cousin, and mother
demurred when she and | were alone
together. But, dear me. we had known