Sherry Chapmanby Sherry Chapman
First published in May/June, 2007, Volume 4, Issue 2, The Hatchet: Journal of Lizzie Borden Studies.
It’s been a long, cold winter and spring here with everyone mostly cooped up in the house, and that ain’t been pleasant. Though the days haven’t been so warm yet, at least they’re headed that way.
I missed church last Sunday. Mrs. Borrden is still sick with her lungs, and there wasn’t ennyone here to keep an eye on her. The girls went to church, and Mr. Borrden he went out to the farm. So I told God my body might not be in church, but my spirit was doin’ good works at home.
Yesterday I had time enough to chat over the fence with Dr. Kelley’s girl, Mary Doolan. She filled me in on what I missed at mass. She said Father O’Reilly durin’ his sermon asked, “Who thinks they are goin’ to heaven? Will ya please stand?” She said nearly everybody stood up, and the Father was grinnin’. Then he said, “How many think you are goin’ to Hell? Will ya please stand?” One guy in the church slowly rose, and Father O’Reilly looked at him with a heavy heart. On the way out of church, Mary Doolan happened to be in back of that one guy who stood up. The Father asked him, “What is it, lad, that makes you think you’re goin’ to Hell?” The man answered, “O, Father, I don’t have no fear for my own outcome, but I did feel sorry for you standing up there all by yourself.” Mary told it like it really happened, but I have a hard time tellin’ when she’s pullin’ my leg and when she’s not. We laughed over it all the same.
Mr. Borrden will be gettin’ his pears in any time now. I’m no great lover of them. He brings them in from off the ground and lets ‘em rot. Then he throws them under the bahn. I don’t like the fruit flies they attract while they’re rottin’ away, or his all the time tellin’ me to have a pear. Sure, and it’s free food I’d be eatin’ which would make his grocery bill a penny or two lighter.
It’s time for me to get my pear recipes out, and as I was doin’ so I come across one I thought you might like. This one is called:
IRISH PEAR CAKE
Yer gonna need:
8 ounces of that self-risin’ flour (Wade’s don’t carry that. Whitehead’s does if you ask for it special.)
A pinch of salt
A pinch of ground ginger or cinnamon
A half a cup of butter that’s been out of the ice box a while
4 pears
Almost a whole cup of sugar
2 eggs
Just a little milk to mix
And a little sugar to sprinkle on the top
First ya wanna fix yer pan so the cake don’t stick to it. I grease it up with butter. Oh – the pan should be a 8 inch deep one. Get yer stove up to 375 degrees, it says on the recipe. The Borrdens’ stove don’t have a temperature nob on it, so I have to guess.
Put yer flour, salt and spice into a bowl usin’ a sifter. Cut yer butter in until it’s all like fine bread crums.
Peel and core the pears (well, that goes without sayin’). Slice ‘em thin and put ‘em in the bowl you just mixed stuff up in.
Mix in yer eggs and just enough milk to make the dough fairly stiff and put it into yer cake tin. Sprinkle the top of it with sugar.
Bake it for about an hour ‘til it’s crisp, golden brown and springy to the touch.
Now this ain’t a real moist cake. It’s on the dry side, which makes it real good to have with yer tea. And best of all, it uses up some of the pears around here!
May you have warm words on a cold evening,
A full moon on a dark night,
And the road downhill all the way to your door.
