Tuesday, 7 August 2012

Mother made her Pastry (1940's)

I would like to bet there are not many women these days that make pastry every week like our mother did, and in the volume now only seen in a super market bakery, (I am exaggerating a bit).

But with seven of us (our father and his brother uncle Jack, and four of us lads)  in the farm house to cater for at that time, and just when we were growing up, she showed us how to cook and bake cakes, and of coarse make pastry.


Mother made her Pastry

Mother made her pastry, mixed in a great mixing big bowl,
Then thumped it on the table, with the rolling pin she'd roll,
Used all sorts to cut the rings, no proper cutter got,
A glass or cup or old pan lid, something just right size she'd spot.

Jam tarts large with fancy edge, jam tarts small and neat,
Mince pies filled with lid on top, all look too good to eat,
Spare pastry given to us kids, to roll and make our own,
Rolling out and cutting pastry, just like we'd been shown.

It went grey in our hands, our hand got cleaner too,
Currant flap-over sealed down, whipped egg brushed on for glue,
Then we used the pastry tins, greased the inside more,
So they'd pop out without sticking, as mother did before.

Should go on the cooling rack, but ours were not there long,
Eaten soon as cool enough, so as not to burn our tongue,
No crumbs left of what we made, and mothers dare not touch,
Cooled and stored in an air tight tin, to last a week's too much.

Countryman (Owd Fred)


A cold need the cook as much as the doctor.Scottish Proverb

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