Home-Made Bread And Farmer's Market
Although on a few occasions, the breadman would call, Ma usually made her own bread. Sometimes we had to buy a loaf or two, to tide over between bakings. Mama was very proud of her homemade bread, even if the making was quite an added chore for her busy life.
I remember Mama in the kitchen, standing at the table with the floured bakeboard covered with a plop of dough. Her flour-covered hands gathering up the dough, turning and punching, turning and punching, turning and folding and punching until satisfied that everything was ready. Then she would divide it into a number of smaller lumps, one at a time and continue turning and punching and forming into the loaf pans ready for the oven. These pans of dough were then set aside covered with a clean blanket to rise. I do not know how Ma told when the oven was at the correct temperature, but she usually did. The room soon filled with a mouth-watering aroma of baking bread. This aroma filled the whole house and seeped outside. This was baking day, once a week.
Baking day usually started the day before, when the yeast had to be prepared from a "starter" saved from the last week's baking. The starter had to be mixed with potato water and just the right amount of flour. This bread mix was then put into a large metal covered container and carefully left at the right temperature until the mass of dough began to rise enough to raise the lid. At this point, Ma would begin the process described above.
The essential ingredient was the "starter" for the yeast, carried over from the previous baking. Sometimes, for some reason, Ma found that she had no "starter" or it had gone bad. Then she would call on Jessie, her near neighbour, who also baked bread this way. Jessie lived over on the Cutler's sideroad. This was just a short walk across the pasture, over a little stream and across the road. This was a very pleasant walk for a sunny, mild day. When Ma was too tired or had other chores to do, she would ask me to run over and get a jar of starter for her. When it happened that Jessie would run out, then she would pay Ma a little visit. Neighbour's yeast!
Then, there were the weekly or bi-weekly trips to and from the open-air Farmer's market in
faraway London. These trips were long, all day occasions, requiring about two hours
trotting time, each way. In the Summertime, the trip was made with the light
democrat-wagon and our trusty, light team of horses, Duke and Nell. The trips in the
Winter months were indeed much more arduous because of the cold and often stormy weather.
At these times, a hot brick was necessary to help keep the feet warm and a heavy lap robe
for added warmth. In those Horse-and-Buggy days, livery stables were available for
stabling the horses for the day. The charge was about a dollar and a half a day. Ma and
one of us boys would usually stand by the wagon or the sleigh, patiently trying to
persuade the city shoppers, always looking for a special
bargain, that ours were the butter and eggs to buy. All this time, Pa would be stabling the horses and running some other errands or passing the time of day with some other farmer he happened to recognize. All the time, Ma would be getting colder and stamping feet to keep warm.
After several years of this market business, Pa was able to establish regular customers and then their produce could be delivered right to their door. This was much better than standing out in the cold trying to sell butter and eggs and sometimes a chicken or two.
Then, with the acquisition of our Ford touring car, the trips to market were made much faster and more pleasant. These market trips, of course, were necessary in order to give us a little revenue for the purchase of food and other necessities, as well as some previously incurred debts.
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