Friday Night Lights

I had been looking in my recipe books for something...For what?  I have no idea any more...but a couple of days later I found this on the floor:

It is said that odors or particular smells evoke memories: the same can be said for some recipes.

My mom, being the hospitable person that she was and the wife of a head football coach, invited all the coaches and their families to our house for waffles after every home football game.  She claimed that this act was really a selfish one. Wanting her husband to come home, yet knowing that coaches want to talk about the game afterward and knowing she did NOT want to talk about it, she devised a plan.  Just invite the other men that wanted to talk football (and their families) over. In that way, she (and the other wives) could have the best of both worlds.

During this time, mom did have a lady come clean the house every Thursday. (Her name was Eliza.) Mom's Thursday evenings were consumed not with house cleaning, but with making waffle batter and homemade syrup.  She used the recipe above for her syrup (right off of the maple flavoring package) and used the waffle recipe that came with her SunBeam waffle iron she received as a wedding gift back in 1949. (recipe to follow)

On Friday nights after the game, the wives would come and bring their children. We played while the ladies fried bacon and made waffles and visited. The men ate, talked, and drew football plays on paper napkins. Lots of good memories...and is the smell of bacon making you hungry?

Buttermilk Waffles

1/2 c melted butter                                                     2 T sugar

2 1/2 c flour                                                                 1 t salt

2 1/2 t soda                                                                  4 eggs

2 1/2 t baking powder                                                2 c buttermilk

                                                                                     1 1/2 t vanilla

Melt and cool butter.  Sift together dry ingredients.  Beat eggs at high speed until fluffy.  Add buttermilk and vanilla.  Beat to blend.  Pour over dry ingredients.  Beat until smooth.  Blend in melted butter.

He-Gwe's Presence in This House

I don't really know much about Bob's dad.  He died on February 14 (yes, Valentine's Day), 1973-- several years before Bob and I met.

Getting to find out a little bit more about him was one of the  unexpected blessings we received when going through Bob's mother's things after her death.  And in spite of the the fact that Ira Allen bears his name, this man had never been referred to by any other term than "your dad's dad".  The kids crafted the name "He-gwe" during this time of semi-revelation.  Yes, that's an unusual name, but Bob's mom was Gwe-Gwe (a story of its own).

There are a couple of random everyday things I've always done in our household that commemorate this man of mystery.  I don't think I've ever really shared this with my children, so I'm thinking now might be the time.

We always use Lea & Perrins worcestershire sauce because that's what he used.

 (and yes, those are tomatoes and peppers out of our garden...He-Gwe's dad was a farmer who sold his produce commercially using hot caps to get an early start.)

We use Oral B toothbrushes because that's what he preferred.

And there are a couple of things that we deliberately do differently than he did but which recall his memory none-the-less:

We only set one alarm clock every night.  He-Gwe always set two.  One was a wind-up clock; one was electric.  What if there were an electrical outage or he forgot to re-wind?  He did NOT want to be late for work and jeopardize his job.  He was very proud to be a USPS mail carrier.  (Yep, they were most likely called mailmen back then--)  Considering that he only had an 8th grade education, he had done very well for himself and his family.  He had a reason to be proud!

...and we do NOT use a hand-cranked ice cream freezer and chip ice off of a 25 lb. block of ice when we make homemade ice cream. When Bob told me of this little quirk of his dad's, Bob was given a choice: If we used bagged, crushed ice and an electric freezer, we would have homemade ice cream very often; if we used a hand-cranked freezer and block ice, the making of ice cream at home would be a very special (and rare) event.  I think you know what Bob chose!

He-Gwe, we think of you in these little ways and wish we could have really known you!