Wednesday, December 8, 2010
I was four years old when we moved into a developing neighborhood. The houses were small brick three-bedroom homes with one and a half bathrooms, kitchen/dining room/family room (was that term already in use then? I don't think so!), living room, and full basement. It's the first house that I have memories of living in. Too bad. I love old houses, and our first house was a two-story frame older home.
The neighborhood was so new, construction of other new houses was taking place. No one had a fenced in yard, which made running next door or to the house behind ours to play with friends ideal. The grading left a low area in our back yard that always filled with water and froze in the winter. It made an excellent skating pond where lots of neighborhood kids would play. Mom didn't want all the kids in the house, but she occasionally made hot chocolate for all of us and passed it through the milk chute.
When I finally came in the house, I was shivering and frozen. Mom would turn on the gas oven, open oven door, plop me in front of it, and stick my feet in to warm them. Mom drank Sanka although it was frowned upon in our church to drink any form of coffee. She never would give me a taste. Instead she made me Pearl Tea, a mixture of hot water, canned milk and sugar.
Lunch was often soup and a sandwich. Always Campbells soup. Was there any other kind? Tomato soup and grilled cheese. Mushroom soup and grilled cheese. Chicken noodle soup and grilled cheese. Okay, so I loved cheese from a very early age. Now that I am firmly in the midst of middle age, I do not use canned soup. Mushroom soup made with fresh mushrooms, cream, butter and thyme tasted is divine. I confess, we do keep a few cans of Campbells Mushroom Soup in the pantry. It's just the thing when the GI bug gets hold of one of us. Must be a comfort food from childhood. Mr. C is home from work today, sipping Campbell's Mushroom Soup. I hope it helps.