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Beth Linehan writes:   "You've no idea how flattered I am.." (to be asked to use her piece).   "I'll be 90 years old Thursday, 12-11-03.   You could send me a copy.... braggin' rights, you know!"   

Happy Birthday, Beth!

I found Beth's contribution in Cynthia MacGregor's great newsletter.  Read them at http://www.cynthiamacgregor.com/Ezine.html    Cynthia describes her newsletter: "Beth Linehan's reminiscence is just one of the many interesting pieces of reading in the latest issue of EZINE DOES IT, the eclectic EZine that's FREE, published weekly, and contains everything from reminiscences to recipes, from humor to advice to wordplay, and lots more. But why not see for yourself? It costs nothing! Subscribe by sending a blank e-mail to:  EZineDoesIt-subscribe@topica.email-publisher.com "

Word Play, Country Cooking and Tomato Soup
by Beth Linehan

Because it takes special expertise and a bit of experience to operate the old fashioned coal-wood cook stove, and because several persons took turns at the cooking and baking with, sometimes, inexpert help, we occasionally took something out of the oven overdone, or even burned.  My dad took this in good spirits.  He would tease me, "It's done brown like your pretty brown eyes, Sister." (My eyes are hazel).  Or he would jocularly call the dish, "Singed cat."

Many food items were favorites in our family, including our "baby talk" names for them. (Our parents were big on adopting the terms we youngsters applied to various bodily functions or body parts, as well as to other things we, in all innocence, mispronounced).

My brother, two years younger than I, and I stayed in bed (when we were still preschool age) until after the grown-ups had eaten breakfast.  We had "puppy ice," and "puppy heat" with cream, (Yes, real, rich cream), and sugar, at a small table, placed in the living room. The "puppy ice and puppy heat" came in a colorful box with a picture of a Quaker gentleman on its side. (Dad groused that the box was worth more than the rice and wheat from which our cereal was made, bringing on another tirade about the "costly and utterly superfluous" middle man, but that's another story).

One of the things Mom fixed for us when we were recovering from a bout of indigestion was homemade tomato soup. I still make it for myself, occasionally: it's delicious.  She often made milk toast, and I still like it. I did, however, once work for an unhealthy individual who was disappointed that I didn't make a thin white sauce of the milk I poured over the toast in the "bread and milk toast" he had ordered.

Also available when we were recuperating was "cornstarch pudding." It was listed as "Blanc Mange" on the Argo cornstarch box, and Mom who, pronounced it as she had been taught the French would, made it from whole milk exactly as the recipe on the box, except she added a beaten egg to the milk before cooking. (She winced when someone pronounced "Blanc Mange" in phonetic "Americanese"). 

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