The Stories in my Mixing Bowls

It never rains but it pours they say. Two posts in one day.   I don't collect just for the sake of getting more stuff, (not that there is anything wrong with doing that) but I collect things that speak to me or help me remember something. These are the stories that live in my mixing bowls up over my kitchen cupboards.  

My mothers lovely old white bowl.

This is a real treasure of mine as Mom brought it up from Newfoundland with her when we moved up to Ontario in 1949.
As a teenager this bowl and I got to know each other very well. I was never taught to make bread per say but I was always  instructed to either punch the bread down or put it in the pans or but it in the oven when the buzzer went etc.One of the best jobs was taking the six beautiful, fragrant loaves out of the oven.
In the 1970's, when I was young with my braids and beads, we were all buzy learning to  go back to the earth (sounds almost like dying) eh?  I had never even tried to make bread because everyone seemed to make it sound so awsome. This one or that one made their own bread,wow, said with reverence. I baked everything else but not " bread ". Then one day I was sitting at a friends kitchen table as she casually made bread. As I watched her go through all the steps, the light came on and I realized " I have done all this, is this making bread,? dah ".  That day I went home and made six loaves of bread without a hitch, and for many years after I continued to, even sometimes making five batches a week to sell. Who knew? 

 

Some more stories.

   The bowl on the left is a gift from my sister and is very old. It was made in Roseville, Ohio at the Lowry Pottery, in around 1900. On the bottom is written " The New Germany" in a star.   I love it because it is called a Baked Bean Dish.Neat eh? The inside is blue and is glazed but the outside is not and it has a wire handle .       The big bowl in the middle was bought for me by my dear husband, as was the baked bean crock next to it. I baked bread in this bowl for many years ,as for the bean crock it has it's own story. When my family gets together and the subject of meals comes up, they all tell of the time I baked beans that were so hard that even our dog Skippy, wouldn't eat them. Everyone knew Skippy would eat anything.     The bowl on the right belonged to my sister-in-laws mam, Mrs. Hoey,a lovely little Irish lady.

I am sure her many wonderful children could tell such great stories of the birthday cakes and Christmas cakes and puddings that she baked in this very bowl.    

Last but not the least.

    The lovely bowl in the middle here is a treasure from my husbands mother. She gave it to me and I have always treasured it. All the baking she did for her family of five children and her husband is a story that remains to be told. She did not have a lot of material possessions so this bowl would have also been a treasure to her.   The two dark bean crocks in this picture have something to say also, the one on the left was from the old " Husband " homestead in Oakville. My husband was involved in helping to clean the old house out back in the 1960's and he brought this crock home to me. Many of my antiques came from there as they were on their way to the dump, along with a dumpster full of stuff, enough to break a historians heart.  The beautiful dark crock on the right, I purchased from a lady at a garage sale in Victoria Harbour. It belonged to her mom but she was moving to a very small residence and would have no room for it.I just had to give it a home.  

A new chapter.

    These two bowls are new ones that have no stories as of yet. I bought them just because I really liked them. The one on the left's beauty is in it's simplicity and beautiful lines and the little one is very unusual as it is very lightweight.   Thus ends my Mixing Bowl Stories. As I re-read this post I realize for the first time that I have four baked bean crocks up there. I always thought of it as my mixing bowl collection and never added up the the crocks.