My Mom knew how and loved to cook.
From a family of eleven raised on a Maine farm upbringing, she learned skills to prepare the best three meals a day. But over the holidays, all the stops were pulled out like a small country Maine church pipe organ. Where it is give it all your got, rich full sound time to fill the place with the holy spirit.
Christmas plates prepared with sugar cookies, all shapes and sizes in line with the red and green theme.
Mocca balls rolled in coconut. Date filled, jelly infused freezer cookies and all types of fudge squares arranged just so. Morsels powdered, rolled in white sweetness. Red and green cherries, nuts of all kinds weaved into the mix just so.
Baking, an deep seeded art and post decorating skills applied from years of practice makes perfect. A labor of love that could be done from all that repetition over holidays in the past. With the cook’s eyes closed, her lips smiling. Humming a Christmas song.
Sweets that you grew up with and can not find readily these days.
That’s what the ladies trained by the best supplied their loved ones, friends. Where they really knew, excelled in knowing their way around the kitchen and pantries in Maine.
My mom is gone. Her sister Aunt Helen and her only daughter, the grandchildren all used to carry on the tradition.
But making candy to ooh and ahh. Until just too tiring and age happened. Plus the list of deliveries of folks addicted to the holiday platters just got too big to handle. The sweet tooth plug was pulled.
Hope that situation never happens to Santa huh?
When pushing the wire cart up and down the big food liners. I remember the care packages that so many enjoyed because my mom created, delivered them. With cellophane and a ribbon, bow to make them festive and assure they did not dry out.
The banana, date, carrot, oatmeal and other breads part of the culinary dog and pony time to make the sweets. During the holiday at the end of the calendar year. To ribbon, bowed, drop off for the social call.
Did you grow up in a household where your Mom or Dad or you tied on the apron?
As a chair was slid into place so you could get a leg up as a youngster. To climb into position. To crank the handle. Shifting flour, measuring out the sugar, salt, molasses, spices, other ingredients using old tried and tested Maine family recipes.
Sometimes handwritten ones in the RIP cook’s own scribble. From a long gone loved one still passing on the tradition from the grave.
Other times gleaned from a church or hospital or school fund raiser old cookbook. That pages were filled with the best everyone could bring to the table.
And besides the meat and potato two step, everything coming out of the Maine home kitchen got stepped, taken up a few extra notches? In the Maine Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s Eve food fair. Way beyond just a batch of two of cookies and squares.
To let you know something special was about to happen and good food was part of the family, small Maine town community celebration.
Good Maine home cooked food and locally sourced ingredients. From close to where you live is a very,
very rewarding situation. To the eyes, the nose, tongue and ultimately to the stomach
The fresh air, clean water, good food and friendly down to Earth interesting people. To mix, stir and simmer.
Excuse me, you gonna eat that last pumpkin whoopie pie? If not, I think I will. Thank you very much.
To let cool and chill, rest and relax to unplug. Recharge. Is it like that where you hang your hat now? Where you lay your head in the bed?
That’s what Maine is all about in this all natural, pure, unfiltered wide open setting.
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MOOERS REALTY 69 North Street Houlton ME 04730