History in the Cellar
The cellar was dark, dank and smelled of old spider webs and mold. There was a light. One bare lightbulb hung from one corner of the raftered ceiling. Octavia felt every bit of her age. The basement stairs seem to get longer and more rickety each day. Octavia did not want to descend into the old dirt cellar. She remembered playing there as a young child amid fruit jars and behind the potato bin. There were still things stored down there from that time that were probably all mildewed and wrinkled with the damp.
But she had to find it. She knew which corner it was in and remembered how, seventy years before on her tenth birthday where she had hidden it. It was almost time to pass it on to the next generation as it had been passed to her on that special birthday. To anyone else it would have meant nothing but in her family it was as precious as any diamond.
Her neighbour of the last many decades, Mrs. Agnes Appleby - such a stuck up name - had gotten tired of hearing about this piece of family history with no name and no form. Agnes had dared Miss Octavia Watterson to produce it and prove its existence. Today, Octavia decided was the day she would prove to Agnes that it was real. But, half way down the stairs, Octavia hesitated. What if it wasn’t very precious at all? What if her ten year old mind had made it bigger than it really was? And why hadn’t she gotten it out before?
Taking a deep breath, Octavia took another step down the stairs. She fingered the key she had hung around her neck. The little silver key that would open the box where her treasure lay. Determined to challenge her ten year old self, and Agnes, Octavia stood on a low stool to reach back into the far corner of the old cupboard and pulled out a small metal box. Removing the key from around her neck she inserted it into the lock. The lock popped open as though expecting that today was the right day. And there it lay. A ordinary sized envelope yellowed with age labelled Watterson Family History. The glue dried on the seal so the flap opened easily. Octavia took out two sheafs of paper. In a spidery hand it read, ‘To whomever reads this recipe know that it holds family history.’ Octavia was sick with disappointment. A recipe! What would Agnes think of this! But no, Octavia would show her, despite any ridicule that might come her way
Up in the kitchen, with a cup of tea she continued to read. ‘Peppered Venison Sausage’ is the title my great great grandfather gave to this recipe. Each generation that has made it has had different ingredients and spices. The ingredients are incidental to this recipe. What is important is that making this requires a hunt for ingredients, preparing the ingredients, cooking the finished product and sitting down to a family meal to enjoy it all.
Octavia had regrets and knew why she had kept the precious recipe? The love of her life had left her before they married. She had never been brave enough to share this kitchen tradition with anyone else. Octavia smiled when she realized that Agnes would be pleased with this treasure. Agnes and Octavia had helped to grind the meat and mix in the spices when they were children, in the kitchen with family all around. Agnes would, however, be certain to be a bit disparaging about the vegetarians of the world that 'would miss out'. And then Octavia would say that although their gathering of ingredients would probably be different, they would still share in wonderful kitchen family times. Every family has their own ideas.
“A personal journey is part of the generational relay.
Live your legacy then pass it on.”
~ Jo Ann V. Glim (author
Authors note: I wrote and posted History in the Cellar November 20, 2016 with some minor edits. Reading it again, I recognized a nod to a family memory that has been lost.
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