Personal Narrative: My Great Grandma's Generation
Growing up in my great grandma’s generation was completely different than growing up in my generation. Back in the day there were not supercenter grocery stores like Wal-Mart, Shop n Save or Sam’s Club for you to go buy your meals. Everything you ate was made from scratch. Why do you think grandmas always the best cooks? Going to grocery stores and restaurants is typically easier and cheaper but cooking homemade meals with your great grandma is priceless. My great grandma, Dorthy Baker, was born in 1923. From when she was only six years old all the way until she was sixteen one of the greatest tragedies of the United States history was happening. During the Great Depression, she lived on a farm in Ohio where she stayed at home with her mother to do chores around the house. Dorthy was a skilled housewife by the time she was eighteen. Although she was a master around the house; her true passion was cooking. The first recipe she passed down to me was the same recipe she said she learned as a child. “On the Baker farm,” she whould tell me, “we had around ten apple trees.” Shed then go on to tell me how she had to walk everywhere she went, kids didn’t have tv to entertain them; typical old people stories. When we finally got to begin baking is when the kitechen filled with food and mouthwatering
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Mixing all the ingredients into the mixing blow her and I would listen to her radio she always had playing top country hits. After the dough was made we put it into the fridge to cool. Her 1960’s stove was heating up for the apples to be boiled in a big to soften up. Once the timer went off saying the stove was heated up, we drop the sliced in handful by handful. Twenty minutes passed. Now the apples are al dente. The big pot now empty of water and full of cinnamon, brown-sugar, and nutmeg. All the ingredients melting together in a pot gives off a smell that fills the whole house; making it seem so
Mixing all the ingredients into the mixing blow her and I would listen to her radio she always had playing top country hits. After the dough was made we put it into the fridge to cool. Her 1960’s stove was heating up for the apples to be boiled in a big to soften up. Once the timer went off saying the stove was heated up, we drop the sliced in handful by handful. Twenty minutes passed. Now the apples are al dente. The big pot now empty of water and full of cinnamon, brown-sugar, and nutmeg. All the ingredients melting together in a pot gives off a smell that fills the whole house; making it seem so