We'd drive down to Provo to Uncle Austin Pugh's peach orchard. (Maurine was Dad's sister.) We'd pick three or four bushels of peaches and Mom would bottle them. Peeled and halved, children used for labor.
And we'd buy pears and do the same thing.
And apricots.
And cherries. She never bottled enough cherries for my liking.
We had concord grapes growing in the back yard and she'd bottle grape juice.
And tomatoes. Most of them were made into tomato juice. That's what triggered the memory. It is a wonderful thing to eat a whole tomato like you would an apple. Keep the salt shaker handy and don't worry about drooling all over your face. It'll wash off.
Dad had this winter ritual that remains in my memory. On a cold night he would heat up some tomato juice (not the canned stuff from the grocery store). Then he would add a little salt and a pat of butter melting on the top. It is heaven.
Dad would also take those marshmallow squares coated in coconut and lay them out on a cookie sheet. He'd melt them in the oven and eat them like s'mores (without the graham crackers and chocolate).
He would also put sugar on cottage cheese. Weird! My theory is that when you grow up on the farm you take pleasure in simple and sweet treats.
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