Mom's Little
Treasures
By Brigitte Greene
Saint John New
Brunswick
Written in November 2007
This next story was submitted by Brigitte Greene on behalf of her mother who is no longer with us. This one I'm sure will bring out some good memories for who read it, I know it got me! Thanks for sharing Brigitte.
Many of my favourite childhood
memories are those that involve Christmas. Lately, I especially love
reminiscing about holiday traditions handed down from my parents. One tradition
I am especially fond of is the baking of meat pies or as mom called them -
"pâtés" or "p'tits cochons". For as long as I can remember, there
was not a Christmas that passed without this annual treat in our Northern New
Brunswick home. Mom only made them at Christmastime. Because, after all, if you
make something this special too often, it may become a bit ordinary and risks
loosing that unique feeling of a true Christmas
tradition.
So, each year mom would take on the task of
baking these little treasures. I vividly remember coming in from the cold after
having played outside for hours to find mom busily stirring a large pot of meat
boiling away on the stove. She would be wearing a brightly coloured dress
protected by a holiday apron and she always wore high heel shoes. I would
always manage to sneak a spoonful or two from the large pot, in spite of mom's
watchful eye.
Granted, my aunts also made meat pies
but their recipes weren't quite like ours. They would likely grind their meat
that would include beef, chicken, pork and some diced potatoes. Then, they
would fill regular size piecrusts with this mixture. Mom, on the other hand,
used beef, pork, savory and sometimes rabbit, if someone we knew happened to
snare some for us. Then instead of the traditional pie, she made what we called
"des p'tits cochons". These were little turnovers just the right size for one
serving. This recipe was one handed down from my grandmother,
Mémére Chamberlain.
As years passed and
mom grew older I was determined to carry on this tradition. So, I asked mom for
a few baking tips. Any help was appreciated because to this day, basic pastry
is still a challenge for me. My mother, on the other hand would bake every
recipe from memory. So her pastry recipe consisted of 5 cups of flour, 2
fingers shy of a pound of shortening and enough water to wet the mixture to the
right consistency.
For the following 15 years, I
always made a point of calling my mother on the day I set out to bake my
"pâtés". In earlier times, I called mostly for advice or to chat
about how big of a mess I had managed to make in my
kitchen.
Then, in recent years, my mother started
showing signs of dementia. So, mostly I called to remind her how special this
tradition was to me. I called to tell her that her love of Christmas had
sparked my love for this special holiday. My mother's enthusiasm and childlike
fondness shown through, even as her memory was fading and familiar pleasures
sometimes got lost in the back of her aging mind. Her face still lit up at the
mention of Christmas.
Mom passed away this passed
October, just shy of her 90th Christmas. So today, as I play some of her
favourite Christmas music, I am especially looking forward to baking a batch of
"pâtés". I feel as though I should be wearing a lace trimmed apron
and high heel shoes. I let my mind wander back to my childhood days when mom
was her vibrant self. My mother's passion for life's simple pleasures, still
warm my heart. So, as I glance at my mom's picture on the mantel, my eyes tear
up. Let's see now, 5 cups of flour, two fingers shy of a pound of
shortening…"Merry Christmas mom, this batch is for you!"
THE END
