Survival in Tough Times: Our hardworking farm ancestors knew how to survive a morning's work. We honor them with a feast of homage just now and then. After all, we're not gluttons
Fine Things on a Cold Winter Morning
Winter officially arrives this week on December 21. Winter has always been a favorite of mine, although there's no topping a well-timed golden autumn. Having taken many years to study the best ways to spend a winter's day, I thought, why not share some of these insights with you, Dear Reader?
It helps to start the day early in a dwelling that cooled overnight. A proper winter morning requires at least three layers inside: tee shirt, flannel shirt, fleece. You'll need warm socks. If you're really roughing it and your hair isn't as thick as it used to be, a hat is nice, too. When you first wake up, frost anywhere inside the house indicates you might want to feed the fire during the night or choose a higher thermostat setting.
A winter morning is the perfect opportunity to recreate the old farm breakfast our bodies think we should have every day of the year
First I like to do something to warm the house. A wood stove or a fireplace is nice, but any source of heat will do. I think it's a virtue if the heat doesn't come up too fast. The fire tender should be up ahead of the others so as to take the chill off before anyone else has to get up. If the others get up at the same time, it means they share the joys of a chilly morning or someone stole the covers during the night. Starting a fire is the first victory of the day, and the results are a little sweeter if they aren't instant or automatic. Patience is a virtue, especially on a winter morning.
Some people crave carbohydrates in the winter time. I had always heard that complex carbs help keep me warm in the cold weather, and it was all the justification I ever needed. Sure, they taste good, but we must protect ourselves against the chill! Pile them higher!
A winter morning is the perfect opportunity to recreate the old farm breakfast our bodies think we should have every day of the year. Our bodies, after all, became acclimated to a farm work day hundreds, and even thousands of years ago when life was brutal, short, and cold. My dad's folks farmed, so I grew up seeing what a real farmer ate for breakfast, and believe me, it was inspiring! If we look back far enough in the family history, there's somebody slopping hogs, feeding chickens, and milking cows, and that milking has to be done at or just before the crack of dawn so as to allow for the second milking of the day just twelve hours after the first one. With a full lineup of farm chores and this time pressure, milking often took place first thing, even before breakfast. To put some hay in the manger, tie old Elsie up in the stall, and wipe off her udder takes a few minutes. By the time you put your head against her warm flank and start the milk ringing in the bucket, you're already wondering what's for breakfast back in the house. Elsie being a good cow and recently fresh with a fall calf, it takes some time to milk each quarter and reach the three gallon mark on the bucket. At last your hands are getting warm, and Elsie's pretty happy about that, too. Glance at the hogs, put a bucket of feed in the hopper for the hens, fill their fountain with water, gather the first eggs, and scatter some straw for both. Keep the cats out of the milk bucket and try not to stumble on the way back to the house in the dark. Now you're on a calorie deficit and starvin' like Marvin. But oh, the choices for a frosty morning on the farm!
We're not gluttons
It might as well be a Dutch farm breakfast. Cover the bottom of a skillet with bacon slices to fry on low heat. Set the kettle to heat slowly. Measure English Breakfast or Irish breakfast loose tea or coffee if you prefer it and get out the cups and saucers. Slip slices of homemade bread into the toaster. Put shredded cheese in the pan, add fried potatoes prepared a couple of days before, add spinach or zucchini or any green or yellow vegetable and check the bacon. When the bacon is about done, snip it into the egg pan, and crack eggs over the whole thing and start some heat under it. A little salt or pepper or curry powder makes it even better. Check the fire in the stove and add half a stick of hickory or oak. Stir the egg mix as it cooks, but don't vulcanize it. Pour the tea. Butter the toast and top with jam or apple butter. Enjoy, taking your time. Then measure the water, old fashioned oats, and raisins into a pan, heat until it just bubbles, then shut it off. Wait two minutes while you add some brown sugar and a glug of milk. The oats are more carbs, a safety precaution for what lay ahead for your farm ancestors. The work you should do later in the day justifies honoring them with a proper breakfast. Besides, if it were really an old timey farm breakfast, there would likely also be pie and fried chicken. We won't go THAT far! We're not gluttons.
Now such a breakfast menu would be for an ordinary weekday farm breakfast. The weekend would be another matter. Biscuits are nice on a Saturday morning, after chores, of course, when there's time to melt thick pats of butter on them and pour sorghum across the whole plate, making sure there's enough to mop up with chunks of biscuit that broke off. The biscuits would be in place of the toast from yesterday, but you'd still need the egg scramble with the potatoes. The oats would still be welcome, but you could mix things up a bit by substituting other dried fruit for the raisins. You'll want plenty of tea or coffee, especially on a Saturday.
Ah, Sunday. It's a day for fancy breakfast
Sunday. Ah, Sunday. It's a day for fancy breakfast after milking. It's still dark. The wind has picked up a little and swung around to the southeast. Something's coming in the next day or two. Better prepare. Bacon comes first, then start the batter for waffles, or is it pancakes today? Start stacking one or the other, finish the bacon, then fry over easy eggs. Crack open a new quart of maple syrup before nestling the bacon and eggs up against the waffles, then pour the syrup sparingly over the waffles. Real maple syrup is special, and we're not gluttons, after all. Then it can be oats and golden raisins with fried apples and another splash of maple syrup instead of brown sugar. Bring on the tea and coffee, and hope it's enough to get us to lunchtime. With firewood to split and stack and kale or spinach to cut in the garden, we wouldn't want to run out of calories in the woods later in the day.
Now I suppose folks well south of US 40 are probably wondering why I left out the grits and the sausage gravy or even the red eye gravy and the little ham biscuits. That kind of breakfast and plenty of black coffee goes with walking up and down hills and hollers and watching your step when you're pulling firewood or pine logs out of the edge of the swamp. If you think you'll encounter a gator or wild hogs today, you'll want a Southern breakfast in addition to the proper firearms and you'll be mighty glad you had both. With any kind of luck, there'll be leftover pecan pie for dessert.
Our hardworking farm ancestors knew how to survive a morning's work. We honor them with a feast of homage just now and then. After all, we're not gluttons.
Dr. Bruce Smith -- Bio and Archives
Dr. Bruce Smith (Inkwell, Hearth and Plow) is a retired professor of history and a lifelong observer of politics and world events. He holds degrees from Indiana University and the University of Notre Dame. In addition to writing, he works as a caretaker and handyman. His non-fiction book The War Comes to Plum Street, about daily life in the 1930s and during World War II, may be ordered from Indiana University Press.
