Tripe and Souffles and Snails Oh My!

1943 community cannery

Doesn’t everyone grow up stuffing canned snails into reusable escargot shells, to serve breaded as an appetizer with garlic butter?

Or have a mom who’s spent the afternoon preparing tripe for dinner, never mind that tripe is the “edible” lining from a bovine stomach?

Or have volumes of Gourmet magazines, plunked for the ready on cherry shelves supported by ornate  wrought iron brackets in the kitchen corner?

I did.

I grew up eating homemade food, except when my parents went out and left us with TV dinners and a babysitter. I loved those little compartments of unusual foods—instant smashed potatoes and smooshy greenish beans. What a treat.

When Mom started working and had less time for cooking, Dad took over. I sewed him a poofy chef hat, and tie-dyed a couple for my brothers who both create delicacies for their families. Dad’s specialties were Coca Cola cake, which became the birthday favorite for several generations, and lentil loaf, to accommodate the vegetarians amongst us.

I learned the fine art of canning and putting by from Mom. We’d retire to the basement—the basement where once she’d killed a rat with a shovel, the basement that, during heavy rains, had a veritable stream running from one end to the other. Mom had installed a double burner for canning down there so’s to keep the rest of the house cool during canning season. Dad had built a floating wooden floor so our feet would stay dry.

We sat on stools, using our fingers to pit the bucket loads of iced sour cherries that we’d picked earlier that day, sticky juice running up our arms to our elbows and into our laps. Mom and I blanched steamy vats of produce, then slid slippery skins off tomatoes and peaches harvested from our tree. Just like magic, they were naked and raw. I was forever intrigued by the colorful pears that Mom canned for Christmas, using cinnamon candies for red, and mint flavor with plenty of food coloring for green.

My current basement resembles that of my childhood— shelves of canned goods and crates of empty canning jars— vessels used, re-used, gifted from erstwhile canners who can no longer, gifts from former wanna be- canners— all ready and waiting to receive next season’s bounty.