The “locavore” movement, a.k.a., local food, has been getting considerable press lately. Defined as sustainable, locally sourced food, the movement claims health benefits and energy efficiency. Gee, we must have been 50 years before our time.
Early on, my family made a detour to nearby Chautauqua County, New York. We lived there while Dad taught science and math at the Dunkirk, NY, high school. With a large, growing family and a relatively tiny income (only 9 months – summers were unpaid), we needed to fend for ourselves. So Dad bought a 5 acre spread at the top of the ridge in Arkwright NY. On the plus side, we could see clear across Lake Erie to Canada on a clear day, but the Canadians returned the favor by sending brutally cold wind and many feet of blowing, drifting snow in the winter. On the down side, all that shoveling – on the upside, great tobogganing and sledding! All in all, the bargain was a good one.
Our tiny farm was surround by larger ones – 100, 200, 300 acres. But we used our minuscule 5 acres to great advantage. A large, cozy house was at the head of a long driveway lined by black walnut trees. At the far end of the driveway was a reasonable barn with hay loft and stalls. To the south were several acres of apple trees, and to the north was a very large truck garden. With the magic of old-fashioned farming know-how and child slave labor, we became a veritable food factory.
For instance, the black walnuts fell in droves in the autumn. We gathered them in old fashioned bushel baskets and let the husks dry. Dad came up with a clever method to remove the husks. We jacked up our 1952 Packard and placed a board under the right rear wheel, giving about one inch of clearance. Then Dad started the engine and put the old Packie in gear. The right rear wheel commenced to spin, and we chucked the walnuts into the gap. Out the back shot freshly shucked walnuts, ready to be further dried, then cracked and picked. As I said, a veritable food factory.
The apple orchard gave us a bounty of eating and cider apples, but not without considerable effort. The suckers had to be trimmed from the limbs, then dragged to a pile and burned. The grass and weeds were mowed during the summer, then the apples picked in the fall. The unblemished ones were packed into the root cellar and all the others bundled up and taken to a cider mill in a nearby town. We took our own steel milk cans and the mill operator filled them up with freshly pressed apple cider. If you think you can imagine how good this tasted, you are coming up short.
Pamela was the family’s Jersey cow. She gave us fresh milk and cream and butter and (sadly, eventually, beef) and the opportunity to attempt to ride a bucking beast. Us kids would tempt her alongside the fence with an apple, then jump aboard. She was better than us – no one could ride her for more than a few seconds – but the thrill was ever lasting.
The garden was a story in of itself. Potatoes, corn, tomatoes, green beans, eggplant, zucchini, carrots, radishes, pumpkins, spinach, lettuce, squash, and more. The planting was a chore, the weeding was a chore, the harvesting was a chore. But it was a veritable bounty, we ate voraciously in season and canned heavily for winter needs.
Locavore, indeed. Chautauqua County, New York – 1960 – we had it all.
