FRIED PORK
I had given Nelson this sketch as a guide in working out the plan for
the cow barn: Length over all, 130 feet; width, 40 feet. This
parallelogram was to be divided lengthwise into three equal spaces, one
in the centre for a driveway, and one on each side for the cow platforms
and feeding mangers. Twenty feet at the west end of the barn was
partitioned off, one corner for a small granary, the other for a kitchen
in which the food was to be prepared. These rooms were each thirteen
feet by twenty. At the other end of the building, ten feet on each side
was given over to hospital purposes,--a lying-in ward ten feet by
thirteen being on each side of the driveway.
The foundation for this building was to be of stone, and the entire
floor of cement; and the walls were to be sealed within and sheeted
without, and then covered with ship lap boards, making three thicknesses
of boards. It was to be one story high. An east-and-west passage,
cutting the main drive at right angles, divided the barn at its middle.
At the south end of this passage was a door leading to the dairy-house,
which was on the building line 150 feet away. The four spaces made by
these passages were each subdivided into ten stalls five feet wide. Two
doors on the north and two on the south gave exit for the cows. I had
placed my limit at forty milch cows, and I thought this stable would
furnish suitable quarters for that number. If I had to rebuild, I would
make some modifications. Experience is a good teacher; but the stable
has served its purpose, and I cannot quarrel with the results. The chief
defect is in the distribution of water. The supply is abundant, but it
is let on only in the kitchen, whence it is supplied to the cows by
means of a hose or a barrel swung between wheels.
[Illustration]
In the kitchen are appliances for mixing and cooking food, and for
warming the drinking water in winter. Nelson and I discussed the sketch
plan given below, and he found some fault with it. I would not be
dissuaded from my views, however, and Nelson had to yield. I was as
opinionated in those days as a theoretical amateur is apt to be; and it
was hard to give up my theories at the suggestion of a person who had
only experience to guide him. The best plan, as I have long since
learned, is to mix the two and use the solid substance that results from
their combination.
We located the site of the building, and talked plans until the low sun
of January 8th disappeared in the west. Then we adjourned to the sitting
room of the farm-house to finish the matter so far as was possible. An
hour and a half passed, and we were in fair accord, when Mrs. Thompson
came into the room to say that supper was ready, and to ask us to join
the men at table before starting homeward. I was glad of the
opportunity, for I was curious to know if Mrs. Thompson set a good
table. We went into the dining room just as the farm family was ready to
sit down. There were ten of us,--two women, six men, Nelson, and myself;
and as we sat down, I noticed with pleasure that each had evidently
taken some thought of the obligations which a table ought to impose. The
table was clothed in clean white, and there was a napkin at each plate.
Nelson and I had the only perfectly fresh ones, and this I took as
evidence that napkins were usual. The food was all on the table, and was
very satisfactory to look at. Thompson sat at one end, and before him,
on a great platter, lay two dozen or more pieces of fried salt pork,
crisp in their shells of browned flour, and fit for a king. On one side
of the platter was a heaping dish of steaming potatoes. A knife had
been drawn once around each, just to give it a chance to expand and show
mealy white between the gaping circles that covered its bulk. At the
other side was a boat of milk gravy, which had followed the pork into
the frying-pan and had come forth fit company for the boiled potatoes. I
went back forty years at one jump, and said,--
"I now renew my youth. Is there anything better under the sun than fried
salt pork and milk gravy? If there is, don't tell me of it, for I have
worshipped at this shrine for forty years, and my faith must not be
shaken."
Such a supper twice or thrice a week would warm the cockles of my old
heart; but Polly says, "No modern cook can make these things just right;
and if not just right, they are horrid." That is true; it takes an
artist or a mother to fry salt pork and make milk gravy.
There were other things on the table,--quantities of bread and butter,
apple sauce (in a dish that would hold half a peck), stacks of fresh
ginger-bread, tea, and great pitchers of milk; but naught could distract
my attention from the _pièce de résistance_. Thrice I sent my plate
back, and then could do no more. That meal convinced me that I could
trust Mrs. Thompson. A woman who could fry salt pork as my mother did,
was a woman to be treasured.
I left the farm-house at 7, and reached home by 8.45. Polly was not
quite pleased with my late hours; she said it did not worry her not to
know where I was, but it was annoying.
"Can't you have a telephone put into the farm-house? It would be
convenient in a lot of ways."
"Why, of course; I don't see why it can't be done at once. I'll make
application this very night."
It was six weeks before we really got a wire to the farm, but after that
we wondered how we ever got along without it.