Browse Categories
Shopping Cart
Your cart is empty.
Mailing Lists
Search Shopping Lists

We had just finished a lovely dinner, topped off by butter rum cake with a warm rum sauce.  The men folk gathered in the sitting room and I went to help the hostess clean up.  There was still some rum sauce sitting in a pan on the stove so I thought, “Oh good, I’ll just empty the jug into it and combine them.”  My hostess looked around just as I fininshed emptying the jug and gave a slight gasp then graciously added, “My dear – that happens to be gravy in that jug.”


As a new bride, I came from a large metropolis to a small rural area.  I had never made bread or grown a thing in my life.  Fortunately, I had a helpful mother-in-law of good pioneer stock.  She helped me plant potatoes and a few other basic vegetables that first summer.
As fall approached, I asked her if it was time to dig the potatoes, and what did she use to do it.  "Oh, I just use an ordinary fork," so I dutifully took a fork out of my kitchen drawer and proceeded to pick around a potato plant - like a bird looking for a worm.
This is ridiculous I thought to myself - I know she's been growing potatoes for many years but she's crazy if she thinks I'm going to get these spuds out with a fork.  I went and got the shovel and eventually told her my lack of success with the fork.
Well, the joke was on me - I never knew that there were hay forks, pitch forks, and "ordinary" (garden) forks.  I eventually learned the "farm language" but it took me a long time to live this one down.