We haven't been doing much baking for the past few months (outside of making our own sandwich bread every week). As a result, I had gotten very laissez-faire when it came to our sugar rations. We're allowed a total of two pounds of sugar per week and I think an entire month went by without me buying any. Clearly, I don't keep the cookie jar full like a typical 1940's housewife. We didn't need the sugar, and I didn't want to be a hoarder.
I mentioned something about this to TMOTH a few weeks back and he replied, "What about all the sugar we'll need for canning this summer?"
D'oh!
During WWII sugar rationing a household could apply for a one-time 15 pound supply of sugar to be specifically used for canning. I haven't yet come across any newspaper articles from 1943 that explain exactly what percentage of those applications were approved - I'll have to dig a little deeper. But the point was, and is, that you better buy your sugar now if you're going to be canning later.
So, I have amended my shopping ways and will now purchase our two pounds of sugar every week. What we don't use in canning we can use in the fresh fruit pies and sweets we plan to make and freeze while locally available fruit is available this season.
Now, I wonder if there is any other rationed item that I'm not buying that will be in a pinch for later...
Sigh, it will probably be ketchup.
--Rational Mama
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Daddy's War
Memorial Day is meant to be a time of reflection and gratitude for those who have served our country. Originally known as Decoration Day, this holiday was a time for the nation to honor those who died in military service and to all that had served in the military.
As I read the newspapers from summer 1943 I can't help but imagine how much significance Decoration Day must have had that year as so many Americans were oversees, fighting the Axis in so many places across the globe. Each page of the paper contains a war story, a photo of a local soldier, or store ads promoting Decoration Day sales (some things haven't changed).
Additionally, the papers are thick with articles and op-ed pieces regarding the ever-expanding draft. Draft registration during WWII occurred in several waves:
In general, men between the ages of 18 and 35 comprised the bulk of the early draft. Specifically, men between the ages of 18 and 35 who were not fathers comprised the bulk of the early draft. As the war intensified and military presence spread between multiply theaters of war more soldiers were needed to fight the good fight.
In June 1943 there was clear pressure from some circles to begin enlisting fathers, as evidenced by the newspaper articles I've read. Fathers were still an important source of income for civilian families, and provided significant labor for a war industrial complex that couldn't find enough workers. Still, a soldier was a soldier, and some claimed that the soldiers that were fathers would fighter harder because they had so much to protect back home.
For our own quasi-1940's experience, TMOTH would have participated in the Feb 16, 1942 registration (he's currently 36, edging towards 37). His fatherly status would have protected him so far, which is why for our experiment he is at home, working in the modern equivalent of wartime industrial job.
In our 2010 reality, though, I read those letters from 1943 wives concerned about their husbands' futures, worried that their children might grow up without their fathers...and I connect with those letters in a painful and intimate way.
You see, TMOTH has been through a war. Not the "traditional" military engagement that Decoration Day was originally meant to honor. In April of 2006 TMOTH was diagnosed with stage IIIB Hodgkin's Lymphoma. While Hodgkin's Lymphoma is generally considered a "good" cancer (i.e. high cure rate), the following six months of chemo he endured were harsh by most survivors' standards. Chemo is scary. All the things you take for granted about your body - eating, sleeping, memory - are affected.
After a clean PET scan in September 2006 he was officially in initial remission. The next few months were a time of healing and welcoming back a loved who had been not quite present/not quite gone for half a year. Unfortunately, a routine PET scan in February 2007 showed that the cancer had returned.
If his previous chemo was boot camp, then this was war. Another month of even more intense chemo followed in preparation for a stem-cell transplant. Informed-consent papers were signed, acknowledging that the treatment induced mortality rate was somewhere near 25-30%. He knew, we all knew, that there was a chance that he wouldn't survive the transplant, let alone the cancer. Chemo tries to kill the cancer before it kills you; a stem cell transplant aims to kill a significant part of you (your bone marrow and your ability to produce new red and white blood cells) without causing your death as a side effect.
It is war.
But rather than global networks and intercontinental missiles this is a war on an individual (or family-sized) level. There is a strategy, an attack and counter-attack. There are whispered conversations, horrible twists of fate, random acts of grace, poisons, scar tissue, and lost time. There are extended times apart and moments when the phone rings in the middle of the night and you fear it's "the call." Periods of time spent praying that he will come back, and wondering if it will ever be the same if he does.
TMOTH survived his transplant and as of his check-up last week is still free of any detectable cancer. As important as they are, I hate check-up weeks - the waiting and imagining of the worst are miserable ways to pass the time. It brings the war back, and the fear he may have to go through it all again.
And so I sympathize with the women who wrote pleading letters to Roosevelt in 1943, begging that their husbands not be drafted into the war. I've made my own similar plea to higher powers.
This Memorial Day I quietly thanked all those who have and will continue to serve this country (along with their families), and I said a little prayer for those fighting their own, more intimate battles.
I am so grateful and proud of the soldiers of my country, and the soldier of my house.
--Rational Mama
As I read the newspapers from summer 1943 I can't help but imagine how much significance Decoration Day must have had that year as so many Americans were oversees, fighting the Axis in so many places across the globe. Each page of the paper contains a war story, a photo of a local soldier, or store ads promoting Decoration Day sales (some things haven't changed).
Additionally, the papers are thick with articles and op-ed pieces regarding the ever-expanding draft. Draft registration during WWII occurred in several waves:
- October 16, 1940 - all men 21-31 years residing in the U.S. (native born, naturalized, or alien).
- July 1, 1941 - men who reached age 21 since the first registration.
- February 16, 1942 - men 20-21 and 35-44 years of age.
- April 27, 1942 - Men 45-64 years of age. Not liable for military service.
- June 30, 1942 - Men 18-20 years of age.
- December 10-31, 1942 - Men who reached the age of 18 since the previous registration.
In general, men between the ages of 18 and 35 comprised the bulk of the early draft. Specifically, men between the ages of 18 and 35 who were not fathers comprised the bulk of the early draft. As the war intensified and military presence spread between multiply theaters of war more soldiers were needed to fight the good fight.In June 1943 there was clear pressure from some circles to begin enlisting fathers, as evidenced by the newspaper articles I've read. Fathers were still an important source of income for civilian families, and provided significant labor for a war industrial complex that couldn't find enough workers. Still, a soldier was a soldier, and some claimed that the soldiers that were fathers would fighter harder because they had so much to protect back home.
For our own quasi-1940's experience, TMOTH would have participated in the Feb 16, 1942 registration (he's currently 36, edging towards 37). His fatherly status would have protected him so far, which is why for our experiment he is at home, working in the modern equivalent of wartime industrial job.
In our 2010 reality, though, I read those letters from 1943 wives concerned about their husbands' futures, worried that their children might grow up without their fathers...and I connect with those letters in a painful and intimate way.
You see, TMOTH has been through a war. Not the "traditional" military engagement that Decoration Day was originally meant to honor. In April of 2006 TMOTH was diagnosed with stage IIIB Hodgkin's Lymphoma. While Hodgkin's Lymphoma is generally considered a "good" cancer (i.e. high cure rate), the following six months of chemo he endured were harsh by most survivors' standards. Chemo is scary. All the things you take for granted about your body - eating, sleeping, memory - are affected.
After a clean PET scan in September 2006 he was officially in initial remission. The next few months were a time of healing and welcoming back a loved who had been not quite present/not quite gone for half a year. Unfortunately, a routine PET scan in February 2007 showed that the cancer had returned.
If his previous chemo was boot camp, then this was war. Another month of even more intense chemo followed in preparation for a stem-cell transplant. Informed-consent papers were signed, acknowledging that the treatment induced mortality rate was somewhere near 25-30%. He knew, we all knew, that there was a chance that he wouldn't survive the transplant, let alone the cancer. Chemo tries to kill the cancer before it kills you; a stem cell transplant aims to kill a significant part of you (your bone marrow and your ability to produce new red and white blood cells) without causing your death as a side effect.
It is war.
But rather than global networks and intercontinental missiles this is a war on an individual (or family-sized) level. There is a strategy, an attack and counter-attack. There are whispered conversations, horrible twists of fate, random acts of grace, poisons, scar tissue, and lost time. There are extended times apart and moments when the phone rings in the middle of the night and you fear it's "the call." Periods of time spent praying that he will come back, and wondering if it will ever be the same if he does.
TMOTH survived his transplant and as of his check-up last week is still free of any detectable cancer. As important as they are, I hate check-up weeks - the waiting and imagining of the worst are miserable ways to pass the time. It brings the war back, and the fear he may have to go through it all again.
And so I sympathize with the women who wrote pleading letters to Roosevelt in 1943, begging that their husbands not be drafted into the war. I've made my own similar plea to higher powers.
This Memorial Day I quietly thanked all those who have and will continue to serve this country (along with their families), and I said a little prayer for those fighting their own, more intimate battles.
I am so grateful and proud of the soldiers of my country, and the soldier of my house.
--Rational Mama
What Would YOU Do?
In general, most rationing points during WWII had an expiration date of the end of the month they were issued. So, for example, the points that became available for use during the month of May had to be used by May 31st. After that date the May points would be cursed by an evil witch and twisted into a horrible, homely representation of a point so hideous that no grocer nor butcher would consider accepting them. Or something like that.
Over the past few months we've lightened up our red points purchases quite a bit. Due to my rising cholesterol we've focused on returning to our family's general pattern of only eating meat at three to four dinners per week (and my cholesterol has gone down to a very happy level as a result) and we've been buying locally raised chicken, which is not rationed. Plus, with the early summer heatwave we've had the menu has been switching to lighter fare.
Thus, this week we had a dilemma: in addition to the 64 red points we have allotted for the week, there were an extra 24 red points left over from earlier in the month. What to do?
In the end we bought an extra bottle each of canola and olive olive oil, an extra pound of butter, an extra pound of cheese (extra-sharp cheddar) and one pound of bacon (BLT season is just around the corner!).
With the handy dandy chart in mind, what would you have done with roughly 35 extra red points to burn?
--Rational Mama
Over the past few months we've lightened up our red points purchases quite a bit. Due to my rising cholesterol we've focused on returning to our family's general pattern of only eating meat at three to four dinners per week (and my cholesterol has gone down to a very happy level as a result) and we've been buying locally raised chicken, which is not rationed. Plus, with the early summer heatwave we've had the menu has been switching to lighter fare.
Thus, this week we had a dilemma: in addition to the 64 red points we have allotted for the week, there were an extra 24 red points left over from earlier in the month. What to do?
In the end we bought an extra bottle each of canola and olive olive oil, an extra pound of butter, an extra pound of cheese (extra-sharp cheddar) and one pound of bacon (BLT season is just around the corner!).
With the handy dandy chart in mind, what would you have done with roughly 35 extra red points to burn?
--Rational Mama
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Jammin'
How often do you eat jam or jelly?
If you have kids in the house (or at least a kid at heart) the answer is probably "pretty often." In the Rational Living household the girls eat some form of peanut butter sandwiches nearly every day - by choice, I might add. It could be PB&H(oney) or PB&J(am) but either way they are a house favorite.
During WWII jams and jellies were rationed under the blue/green point system, with the exception of citrus-based marmalades. Typically ranging from 14 to 16 points per 16oz jar, a daily PB&J habit for a family with multiple children could quickly eat away over one-third of a household's blue/green point allotment.
Lucky for us, last summer I canned several jars of cherry and peach jam (I also put up some jalapeno jelly but for some reason it isn't considered PB&J material). At the time we didn't know we would be rationing within a few months (how historically accurate of us) so this surplus has been a lucky break. And so this year I'm determined to again can several batches of jam/jellies to get us through the remaining rationing period.
Since you need either fresh or frozen fruit to make jam we are very limited in what options will be available, but this week locally-grown strawberries began flooding the farmer's market. Let the jammin' begin!
This weekend I made the first batch of the season: strawberry-ginger jam. Unusual combination? Yes. Heavenly? Most definitely. I won't go into the nitty-gritty of how to can (there are plenty of websites, such as Moo Said the Mama, which offer great tutorials on the basics of canning), but I will share the super-simple recipe I used.
Ingredients:
4 lbs fresh strawberries
3 cups sugar
1/4 cup lemon juice
3 heaping tsp ginger powder
Directions:
This recipe made four and a half jelly jars and doesn't use any additional pectin, so it is a very 
manageable canning project for the beginner. It's absolutely delicious and I plan to make at least one more batch while local strawberries are still available.
Oh, and if you like to think (and eat) outside of the box...microwave a portion of the jam in the microwave for 20 seconds and pour it over all-natural vanilla ice cream. Pure joy!
--Rational Mama
If you have kids in the house (or at least a kid at heart) the answer is probably "pretty often." In the Rational Living household the girls eat some form of peanut butter sandwiches nearly every day - by choice, I might add. It could be PB&H(oney) or PB&J(am) but either way they are a house favorite.
During WWII jams and jellies were rationed under the blue/green point system, with the exception of citrus-based marmalades. Typically ranging from 14 to 16 points per 16oz jar, a daily PB&J habit for a family with multiple children could quickly eat away over one-third of a household's blue/green point allotment.
Lucky for us, last summer I canned several jars of cherry and peach jam (I also put up some jalapeno jelly but for some reason it isn't considered PB&J material). At the time we didn't know we would be rationing within a few months (how historically accurate of us) so this surplus has been a lucky break. And so this year I'm determined to again can several batches of jam/jellies to get us through the remaining rationing period.Since you need either fresh or frozen fruit to make jam we are very limited in what options will be available, but this week locally-grown strawberries began flooding the farmer's market. Let the jammin' begin!
This weekend I made the first batch of the season: strawberry-ginger jam. Unusual combination? Yes. Heavenly? Most definitely. I won't go into the nitty-gritty of how to can (there are plenty of websites, such as Moo Said the Mama, which offer great tutorials on the basics of canning), but I will share the super-simple recipe I used.
Ingredients:
4 lbs fresh strawberries
3 cups sugar
1/4 cup lemon juice
3 heaping tsp ginger powder
Directions:
- Remove the green tops of strawberries and crush enough strawberries so that you have 4 cups full.
- Combine strawberries, sugar, lemon juice and ginger in a large, heavy pot and stir over medium-low heat.
- Once the sugar is dissolved turn the heat up to high, stir frequently and bring mixture to a rolling boil.
- Keep at a rolling boil for 10-12 minutes, stirring constantly.
- Ladle strawberry jam into hot, sterilized canning jars.
- Wipe rims and add lids/rings.
- Process with boiling-water method for 15 minutes.
- Carefully remove jars and place on cabinet - leave undisturbed for 24-48 hours until seals have set.
This recipe made four and a half jelly jars and doesn't use any additional pectin, so it is a very 
manageable canning project for the beginner. It's absolutely delicious and I plan to make at least one more batch while local strawberries are still available.Oh, and if you like to think (and eat) outside of the box...microwave a portion of the jam in the microwave for 20 seconds and pour it over all-natural vanilla ice cream. Pure joy!
--Rational Mama
Saturday, May 22, 2010
(Kinda) Historic Recipe: Rhubarb Strawberry Crisp
While I was going through more newspapers from the spring of 1943 this week (What? You don't do that, too?) I noticed lots of rhubarb recipes on the ladies' pages. In honor of this fine tradition (and local rhubarb AND strawberries at the farmer's market today!) I whipped up the following dessert for tonight. It's a little rhubarb-heavy (I have other plans for the strawberries so I couldn't spare too many) but it was delicious. Yum!Ingredients:
1 cup flour
3/4 cup oats
1 stick melted butter (or margarine, but ewww)
3/4 cup brown sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
3 1/2 cups chopped rhubarb
1/2 cup chopped strawberries
1 cup granulated white sugar
1 cup water
2 TB cornstarch
1 tsp vanilla extract
Directions:- Combine flour, oats, brown sugar and cinnamon and press half of the mixture into the greased bottom of a 9" x 9" square pan.
- Top with rhubarb and strawberries.
- Combine sugar, water and cornstarch in a small saucepan and cook until thickened and syrupy. Take off the heat and add the vanilla.
- Pour syrup over rhubarb and strawberries.
- Top with remaining oat mixture.
- Bake for one hour at 350 degrees Fahrenheit.
--Rational Mama
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Volunteers for Victory Gardens Found!
Every year we have volunteers in our garden. Granted, these aren't the kind of volunteers you're probably thinking of - these are plant volunteers. Vegetables that grow either from seed dropped from the plant during the previous summer or from plants that somehow overwintered into the spring.
We always have lots of tomato volunteers - particularly cherry tomatoes. Near the end of the growing season we git a bit lazy about picking tomatoes every day and some eventually fall to the ground (or get relocated by a squirrel). Thus, the next year I pull out a dozen baby tomato plants because they never seem to volunteer where we need them.
We've also had dill grow from seed deposited during the previous year and the same is true of impatiens.
The year before last we had a wonderful pumpkin volunteer growing out of the compost bin. It must have been from one of the girls' novelty pumpkins (or been a hybrid and not bred true) - it made sweet little (five inch in diameter) pumpkins just in time for the fall holidays.
The volunteer of the year this year is a bittersweet addition.
That's a potato plant. A very healthy and happy potato plant (there's another one in a nearby corner of the garden). The last two years we tried (quite unsuccessfully) to grow potatoes. Both years we used versions of the tire-stack method and failed miserably. Initially the plants thrived but by the time we got to the third tire the plants became waterlogged and soggy, despite our attempts to increase drainage to the stack. So each year we abandoned the potatoes and removed the tires to spread out the soil.
To our great surprise, this year there are two volunteer potato plants, each in a location where a tire stack was located last year. Are they plants from the original seed potatoes planted in March 2009? Are they plants growing from maybe one or two baby potatoes that managed to grow before we removed the tires? I have no idea.
What I do know is that apparently we can't grow potatoes unless we aren't trying.
We'll mound the soil up on each plant and see how far the experiment goes this year. A few extra potatoes would be nice, especially after I just read a dozen articles from spring/summer 1943 about an impending potato shortage.
Hopefully, between our volunteers, the farmers market and such there will be no tater shortage for us!
--Rational Mama
We always have lots of tomato volunteers - particularly cherry tomatoes. Near the end of the growing season we git a bit lazy about picking tomatoes every day and some eventually fall to the ground (or get relocated by a squirrel). Thus, the next year I pull out a dozen baby tomato plants because they never seem to volunteer where we need them.
We've also had dill grow from seed deposited during the previous year and the same is true of impatiens.
The year before last we had a wonderful pumpkin volunteer growing out of the compost bin. It must have been from one of the girls' novelty pumpkins (or been a hybrid and not bred true) - it made sweet little (five inch in diameter) pumpkins just in time for the fall holidays.
The volunteer of the year this year is a bittersweet addition.
That's a potato plant. A very healthy and happy potato plant (there's another one in a nearby corner of the garden). The last two years we tried (quite unsuccessfully) to grow potatoes. Both years we used versions of the tire-stack method and failed miserably. Initially the plants thrived but by the time we got to the third tire the plants became waterlogged and soggy, despite our attempts to increase drainage to the stack. So each year we abandoned the potatoes and removed the tires to spread out the soil.
To our great surprise, this year there are two volunteer potato plants, each in a location where a tire stack was located last year. Are they plants from the original seed potatoes planted in March 2009? Are they plants growing from maybe one or two baby potatoes that managed to grow before we removed the tires? I have no idea.
What I do know is that apparently we can't grow potatoes unless we aren't trying.
We'll mound the soil up on each plant and see how far the experiment goes this year. A few extra potatoes would be nice, especially after I just read a dozen articles from spring/summer 1943 about an impending potato shortage.
Hopefully, between our volunteers, the farmers market and such there will be no tater shortage for us!
--Rational Mama
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Shhh...
When I went to pick up the CSA bag this week I was surprised to find four small bundles of asparagus available. I was literally stunned (it was 4:40pm) and kept staring at the dry-erase board that lists bag options, trying to figure out just what was going on.
The CSA representative was amused.
Finally, I asked "What are the asparagus a choice with?"
"Oh, well, technically you're choosing between the mushrooms or the asparagus," she replied. "But I took the asparagus off the listing board since we were almost out. I set aside a few asparagus bunches for those who come a little later."
My wide eyes communicated a silent, sincere gratitude.
"Just tuck them down in your bag so the folks up front don't see them."
Apparently, the asparagus gods heard my laments. Or maybe the CSA reps had heard numerous complaints.
Of course, this serves as positive reinforcement for my bitching.
Either way, we're having asparagus tomorrow night.
--Rational Mama
The CSA representative was amused.
Finally, I asked "What are the asparagus a choice with?"
"Oh, well, technically you're choosing between the mushrooms or the asparagus," she replied. "But I took the asparagus off the listing board since we were almost out. I set aside a few asparagus bunches for those who come a little later."
My wide eyes communicated a silent, sincere gratitude.
"Just tuck them down in your bag so the folks up front don't see them."
Apparently, the asparagus gods heard my laments. Or maybe the CSA reps had heard numerous complaints.
Of course, this serves as positive reinforcement for my bitching.
Either way, we're having asparagus tomorrow night.
--Rational Mama
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