Milk Soup 5-3-26

I just plain did not feel well that day. My mom knew what to do. She went to the kitchen, dropped white bread into the toaster and heated a cup of milk over the gas stove. After buttering the toast, she broke it into pieces and poured the warm milk over it. The butter melted perfectly. The crunch of the toast surface and the warm, moist middle of the bread soothed me. Growing up, my family ate many milk based foods. Besides bread with milk, which I saw my dad make for his afternoon snack, we feasted on milk soups. Green bean soup with potatoes, fresh (or frozen) green beans. Corn chowder made with bacon, creamy potatoes, creamed corn and milk. And of course, our frequent suppers of Johnny Cake (cornbread with a bit of sugar). Through the years my sisters, mom or I made two loaf cake pans filled with Johnny cake, set the table with big pitchers of cold milk, sugar, sometimes home canned peaches or fresh green onions from the garden to be dipped in salt. As dairy farmers, it made sense that we consumed a lot of milk based main courses. My husband said his Amish-Mennonite family similarly made soup with milk. “Dad would cut up bananas, add milk with maybe a bit of sugar and call it banana soup.” With today’s many varieties of food, my children and grandchildren look askance at my childhood nutrition. In answer I point them to the Watkins Cook Book published during The Great Depression with a chapter entitled “Economy Recipes.” The 1936 book has a recipe “Soup from Leftover Cereal.” It says, “Use a double boiler to heat two cups of cooked cereal in a quart of milk until it boils. Beat it until well blended. Add butter and seasonings.” For the family in the Great Depression, the cook presented it as dinner. In that era family cooks found ways to use whatever they had to feed their families. Today, in a house with cupboards overflowing with many options, even I wrinkle my nose at that soup recipe. I watched some children’s similar reactions when they visited a relative who lived through the harsh realities of the 1930s. The children watched as she pulled a pan of cold leftover oatmeal from the freezer and prepared to rewarm it. Horror spread over their faces. Oatmeal already ranked very low in their breakfast preferences, let alone lumpy, cold oatmeal rewarmed into a variation of “Soup from Leftover Cereal.” The silent children looked so pathetic. Their mom had told them, “Now you eat what is put before you when you visit and say ‘thank you.’” They did not want to have to politely eat that dish, let alone be thankful for it. They were not my children. Still I heard their silent plea, “get us out of this.” I stopped our hostess. “You know what? We forgot to stop at the store to buy groceries for our visit. I know you like the ice cream we buy when we visit. We will eat breakfast after I run to the grocery store.” I went. I bought cold cereal, cold milk and very cold ice cream. The children were happy. The hostess, who craved the ice cream she rarely bought, was happy. Thereafter, I always made sure I arrived with kid friendly groceries, especially ice cream. Such a luxury we enjoy. We can choose from hundreds of foods. Such a contrast to the 1930s when even children eagerly ate “Soup from Leftover Cereal,” potato soup or even banana soup. Still there are days when I just don’t feel well and prepare a dish of hot milk over buttered toast. It tastes pretty good to me.