Today as I was cleaning way back in a kitchen cupboard , I brought out this big, black iron skillet that I inherited from my Mother many years ago.
It is good for only one thing and that is good, brown corn bread.. Nothing like an iron skillet for making good old brown cornbread.
well this particular iron skillet has some fond memories of my Mother's good cooking ( which I did not inherit, by the way ) but it also has a bad memory for me too..
Many years ago when I was in my teens my Mother's sister had her first new baby so naturally Mom was her helper for a couple days.
That left Dad, my brother and myself to take care of ourselves.. Now , mind you I was never that much of a "Betty Crocker" in the kitchen.
Well, my Dad's sister lived just a few houses from us and she happened to be there that day and we decided she would make some peanut brittle.
Of course with her being much older and stronger, we brought out the old iron skillet.
All the ingredients were brought out and my aunt did the mixing and put on the stove to cook.. You know, peanut brittle has to boil to just the right temperature ( a rolling good boil ) and make just the right string when you held up the spoon with the syrup on it. It was at that point that it was ready to pour.. when suddenly my aunt had to rush home and she said " Maurine, can you pour the candy up "? She had prepared the waxed paper that it was to be poured up on..
Well, I can't say I was anxious to be in charge of that big old iron skillet full of boiling hot syrupy candy, but being the only one there to do it, I said I'd give it a try.. You see, I'd had experience with that big old iron skillet... yes sir, from my dish washing duties. So I grabbed a damp dish cloth( WRONG !!) and the handle of the big old iron skillet... of course now that I'm older and wiser... I know better but,
the dish cloth being damp only made the heat hotter.. and the skillet slipped in my hand and the weight of the skillet made it turn and
the boiling candy landed on my right knee and the first thing I did was to drop the skillet and wipe my leg with the dish cloth...worse thing I could have done.
Needless to say as I screamed and wiped... all the skin came off and I ran out into the back yard where my Dad was working and he had heard the screams and was already on his way into the house..
Poor Dad didn't know what to do.. so we got it cleaned the best we could and the only thing we knew to do was go for the
"Shamons Shalve"( my brother's name for Sayman's Salve ) which was a household name in our house. My brother would have sworn that "Shamans Shalve" could have raised Lazarus from the grave.
Needless to say, I was out of commission for some weeks..
We were miles from a doctor and no car at home and no phone, we were left to our own devices.. Needless to say I spent a miserable night and many miserable days.. The only comforting thing about it was that I didn't have to go to school for at least a week.. but eventually that ended and I was back in school... Being the " tom-boy" that I always was, I got it hurt many times.
Now that has been many moons ago but the sight of that big black iron skillet still sends a shivering pain down my right leg.
Oh I tell you, living on the farm out in the country had it's beautiful memories and some that aren't so beautiful.. But I wouldn't trade my upbringing for any amount of " city living". Although I've had those days , too.
Our two girls were raised in the city since they were 9 and 2 so their only knowledge of country life was when we always came back to the farm for our vacations.. If you'd ask our Debbie what she looked forward to most was going down on the farm to "gramma's " and her box of baby kittens.. My mother was a cat lover..
That's another whole story in itself !!!
Happy Bloggin !!
