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| The Treasure Island Fireplace |
The following note is about an old fireplace utensil that we sent to Samuel in Georgia. It so evokes the feeling of our turn of the century cottage that I obtained Samuel's permission to share it with you. Our hearth is made of field stones gathered from nearby farms, but it certainly isn't as big as the ones in Samuels life!
Many thanks for your note. Living on an island sounds great! As regards the old skimmer, I shall very
likely use it after a little cleaning. I am quite old enough to remember many
people who cooked on the fireplace! Indeed, my old grandmother did not have a
cook stove until 1907, when she was almost 40 years old. I was quite interested
by 18th and 19th century cooking; hence, she taught me to cook all things
southern on the fireplace--bread, too. The one I learned to cook on
could accept about an 8-foot log and I could walk inside it about 4 feet!Grandmother's place was the old Butler Plantation. The house was yet standing
and in good condition when I was 25 years old. Now I have only photographs of
the old place.
Here in the Georgia hill, about 50 years ago, I had dinner
with an old lady and her daughter in their mountain home on Upper Hightower Road
in Towns County. They began by shelling and grinding corn for the cornbread.
They never had a stove and cooked greens and beans and the bread on the fire
place. The bread was made with home-made lard and buttermilk and cook to
perfection in a Dutch oven. There was never a speck of paint on the inside or
outside of the house, nor was there a hint of any kind of decoration. One
could drink buttermilk, sweet milk, or water. The ladies did not use coffee or
tea, and no tobacco was used on the place.
The ladies were old-time holiness.
When the food was placed on the table, the daughter and I
stood behind our
chairs while the old lady got down on the floor and blessed the food. I could
never forget this sweet, simple event, and the food was the very best I ever
enjoyed in my long life. These simple mountain folks were mighty sweet to know.
Alas, I have seen none like
them in many years. As I cook the same old
southern food on the fireplace, I remember, one by one, my dear friends and
loved ones gone on before.
