What I am about to say is not just a “bunch of bologna.” It is fact. Each payday of Pa’s, Ma would go to town the next day to buy groceries. And did she ever buy groceries, yes loads of them! I know it took a lot to feed those growing “boys” and the rest of the family, but the amount she bought always amazed me. Ma was a very good cook. Everything was always delicious. I learned a lot from her about cooking.
Benny was working at Baker’s Dairy after school and he brought home plenty of milk, including buttermilk. I liked buttermilk. He, also, on occasions, would bring home buttermilk that was made with cream in it. Talking about good, it was good! I have never seen that type buttermilk in the grocery. I don’t know if that type of buttermilk is made anymore. It was truly a treat. All of the milk he brought home helped out with the groceries.
Then one night at supper we all sat down to eat. Ma had made a big pan of her delicious macaroni and cheese, along with other things. I have tried all my life to make macaroni and cheese that would taste as good as hers. I still can’t. But this particular night there was a new dish, at least to me, on the table. As it was passed around I put some on my plate. Everyone seemed to be enjoying it. So I put a big bit in my mouth and started chewing it. Never in my life had I tasted anything so awful. I had been brought up to eat whatever was on the table. So I sat there and ate that terrible stuff without saying a word. Later I asked Ed what it was. He said it was tripe. I then asked him what is tripe. When he told me, I vowed to myself that I would never eat it again, and I haven’t. Yes, that was my first and last experience with tripe. And that was the only dish that Ma ever cooked that I did not like.
Now here comes the bologna! Each time Ma went to the buy groceries, she would buy bologna. And I don’t mean a pound or two. It would be a whole bologna, a huge long round stick of it!
The bologna was from twelve to eighteen inches long.
I don’t know how many pounds. I
only know that the first time she brought it home, I was amazed at the amount of
it. And I thought, “My word, that
much bologna will never be eaten!” But I was wrong.
When her “boys” would make themselves a sandwich, they would make a
sandwich! The bologna would be sliced thicker than the bread.
The sandwich would look like meat with a thin crust on each side.
But Ma never said a word. Her
“boys” ate their bologna the way they wanted it.
And that stick of bologna would be gone in a few days. Then the next time Ma bought groceries, there was another
long stick to be enjoyed, um, um good!
- Lorine Ellard Jowers