Post #100 – Women’s Memoir Writing, ScrapMoir – Matilda Butler and Kendra Bonnett
Scrapbooking Our Memories, One Story at a Time
We loved the way Carol Jones began her memoir story. We wanted to learn more about Grandma Ball, and we did. Feisty women like Grandma Ball are role models for all of us. We’re glad Carol shared both her memory and her recipes with us.
Memoir Contest Award Winner, Finalist
TRADITION
Carole Jones
“I don’t know missy, I don’t give out my recipes or cooking secrets to just anybody. Mostly only to my family members and then I’m pretty dern picky on who they are, cause you just can’t trust some of em! I’ve had my secret recipes done stole from me and entered into the state fair in Kansas and that dag-gum varmint Eunice, won that there blue ribbon for making my special buttermilk biscuits, and that ribbon should rightly of been mine.”
Those words were spoken to me when I was 16 years old and in the kitchen of Dave’s family. I had been introduced only a few months before as Dave’s girl-type of friend, not officially his real and true girlfriend. Grandma Ball lived with Dave and his family and she was a spitfire of a grandma, full of vim, vigor, energy and attitude too.
Grandma Ball was born in 1885 and she grew up on a farm in Sterling, Kansas. She had vegetable gardens, goats, sheep, milk cows and chickens. Grandpa Ball grew and harvested wheat and corn to sell to the local market.
She remained on her own farm even after she married her beau, Earl. He was a traveling ranch hand, but love was in the air and they became hitched by the justice of the peace and began their life together. All of the food that was served to their growing family was homegrown. Grandma Ball was a very creative chef and was well renowned for her many delicious suppers she provided to the ranch hands in addition her own family. She made buttermilk biscuits from scratch and used her very strong arms and hands to knead the dough for her pie shells also.
Years later, after Grandpa Ball passed away, reluctantly Grandma Ball relocated to Southern California and moved into her daughter’s home. She was surrounded by her grandchildren, but they lived in the city and it was very foreign to her. She hated going to the grocery store to buy her produce, eggs and milk. None of those items tasted the way they did back on her farm.
I just happened to be at Dave’s home a few days after Halloween when I was 16. I stood and watched Grandma Ball yield a very sharp knife as she attacked a large round orange pumpkin. She proceeded to slice the skin off on one side and then slice the yucky, stringy, mushy stuff of the other side. She cut the pumpkin pieces into cubes and threw them into a large stockpot filled with boiling water.
An hour or so later when the smell of the cooked pumpkin permeated throughout the house and all the windows were fogged up, the flame of the stove was turned off and Dave’s dad lifted the very heavy pot off the stove and poured the cooked pumpkin cubes into a colander to drain the water. He then immediately poured the cooked pumpkin right back into the large pot and with a potato masher, he pushed, groaned and mashed the pumpkin into one large quantity of orange mush.
I was allowed to help Grandma Ball fill all of the plastic containers and bowls with the cooled pumpkin to be used for her very special and secretive recipes of pumpkin pies, pumpkin breads, pumpkin muffins, pumpkin biscuits and especially her delicious pumpkin soups.
Sadly and with incredible grief we had to say good-bye to the most amazing and beautiful 90-year-old Grandma on Thanksgiving Day of 1975. The day before she had amazingly had the strength to roll out the dough to make her famous buttermilk, pumpkin biscuits, prepare her pie shells for the pumpkin mix, put all of the ingredients into the pot to simmer for her pumpkin soup and then cleaned up her mess in the kitchen. It was early evening when she told Dave’s mom she was heading to bed for the night and she would be up early on Thanksgiving day to finish up all of her specialties.
Angels came sometime in the night to carry sweet Grandma Ball home. She was just plum tuckered out all the relatives said. We were perplexed as to what to do after all the commotion had died down. But, we all knew that Grandma Ball would have wanted us to carry on. So in her memory that is exactly what we did that year.
I had been married to Dave for many years by the time of her passing. So, I became the very lucky family member to receive Grandma Ball’s blessings of her secret prize winning pumpkin recipes. In her honor and to remember her, I made all of her pumpkin goodies that day in the kitchen she had so lovingly worked hard in. While I didn’t receive the rave reviews I had so hoped for, I was given praise and thanked for making the effort.
It did take me a few years to get the correct mixture to taste similar to Grandma Ball’s. While I don’t think I could ever really match her perfection, I continue to strive to make that my all-time cooking goal.
After every Halloween, every single year since Grandma Ball passed away, I make it a point to carry on her tradition. I purchase the real pumpkins, cut up, boil, mash and then use the pumpkin for all of the holiday delectable treats.
I am tickled to be able to share the most cherished and memorable pumpkin delights to all. Sadly though this tradition will not be passed down to any other family member because my daughter and daughter-in-law have no time to go through all of the necessary steps.
TRADITION ~ TRADITION
GRANDMA BALL’S PUMPKIN BREAD
2 c pumpkin, prepared as described above
1 c oil
1/3 c water
4 slightly beaten eggs
1 1/2 t pumpkin pie spices
1 1/2 t cinnamon
2 t baking soda
1 1/2 t salt
3 1/2 c flour
3 c sugar
Optional: 3/4 c raisins or 3/4 c crushed nuts
Mix all ingredients together. Put in small coffee cans or loaf pans. Bake at 350 degrees for 1 hour.
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