Tell me, is there anything prettier than a cherry? Plump, juicy, versatile, deliciously adaptable...and, coming to a table near you soon. It is raining here today, but this week end Nate cleaned the windows inside and out and that is saying something! I don't know how many we have, but it is substantial and daunting. He also did all of the wood floors. It is spring cleaning time and in less than two weeks it will be here along with Easter. So it is time to start thinking about the menu for around fifteen people, far fewer than usual, but a fun group to be sure. I am going to assemble some of my really good cherry recipes today, but this is one fruit that needs no company; it is perfect standing alone.
It was always hot when the Cincinnati Lechlers came to visit us at the Spook House in McConnelsville. The old house was across the road from the river and dam. In bed at night it roared like the ocean and once the old place was fixed up, it was a great retreat from the city. Each cherry season and corn season we met there to take care of the summer bounty. Our children were young, but certainly old enough to be tied to the picnic table with 60 pounds of sour cherries in front of them and the command to PIT issued from the mouth of the boss. It was child labor at its best. Those children are all grown up now and no worse for wear having eaten nearly as much as they pitted. The corn was also needing shucking and that command was issued and shuck they did. Big pots of boiling water were set up in the yard and the ears popped in and out of the water and the kernels removed from the cob and bagged in servings fit for each families' needs. We would grill our dinner accompanied by as much corn on the cob as they wished to butter and consume. The meal was topped off with my dear mother's cinnamon rolls, each one the size of a pillbox hat. It would be dark then and ghost stories about Edna and Pearl (the spooks sisters that once lived and died there) were reheard while lightening bugs were jarred and discussed to no end. Now these children have children and are they are getting ready to have children and so on and so on. It's cyclical and never ending. Once we started the ball rolling, the kids just keep on coming, but they, unfortunately, will never get to enjoy the Spook house and those stunning summer rituals.
Individual pies baked in cupcake pans.
It was always hot when the Cincinnati Lechlers came to visit us at the Spook House in McConnelsville. The old house was across the road from the river and dam. In bed at night it roared like the ocean and once the old place was fixed up, it was a great retreat from the city. Each cherry season and corn season we met there to take care of the summer bounty. Our children were young, but certainly old enough to be tied to the picnic table with 60 pounds of sour cherries in front of them and the command to PIT issued from the mouth of the boss. It was child labor at its best. Those children are all grown up now and no worse for wear having eaten nearly as much as they pitted. The corn was also needing shucking and that command was issued and shuck they did. Big pots of boiling water were set up in the yard and the ears popped in and out of the water and the kernels removed from the cob and bagged in servings fit for each families' needs. We would grill our dinner accompanied by as much corn on the cob as they wished to butter and consume. The meal was topped off with my dear mother's cinnamon rolls, each one the size of a pillbox hat. It would be dark then and ghost stories about Edna and Pearl (the spooks sisters that once lived and died there) were reheard while lightening bugs were jarred and discussed to no end. Now these children have children and are they are getting ready to have children and so on and so on. It's cyclical and never ending. Once we started the ball rolling, the kids just keep on coming, but they, unfortunately, will never get to enjoy the Spook house and those stunning summer rituals.
Individual pies baked in cupcake pans.
