Do not rip my head off. but too good to pass up.





MADE FROM SCRATCH



My mother never let me help much in the kitchen. As a result, my

cooking ability was practically nonexistent when I got married. But,

I did remember mother mentioning that she did make cakes, pies and

other things from scratch. So my first trip to the supermarket was to

buy some scratch. I found the isle that read baking items and spent a

good 15 minutes looking at everything from vegetable, oil, sugar,

flour and chocolate without seeing a sign of scratch. I was sure it

wouldn't be with the pickles or the meat. I asked the clerk if they

carried scratch. He looked at me funny and finally said," You'll have

to go to the store on the corner."



When I got there it turned out to be a feed store. I thought it

rather strange, but I decided cakes were food. "Do you have scratch?'

I asked the clerk. He asked me how much I wanted. I suggested a

pound or two. His reply was, "How many chickens do you have? It only

comes in 20 lb bags." I really didn't understand why he mentioned

chickens, but I had heard Mom say she made chicken casserole from

scratch. So I bought 20 lbs and hurried home.



My next problem was to find a recipe calling for scratch. I went

through every page of my lovely "Better Homes and Gardens" cookbook -

a wedding gift. I looked and looked for a recipe using scratch.

There I was with 20 lbs of scratch, and no recipe.



When I opened the scratch, I had doubts that a beautiful, fluffy cake

would ever result from such a hard looking ingredient. I hoped that

with the addition of liquids and heat the result would be successful.

I had no need to mention my problem to my new husband. He had

mentioned early in our marriage that he loved to cook and would gladly

take over anytime. One day he made a pie and when I told him how good

it was, He said that he made it from scratch. That assured me that it

could be done.



Being a new bride is scary and when I found out he made pies, cakes,

and even lemon pudding from scratch....well, if he made all those

things from scratch, I was sure he had bought a 20 pound bag of

scratch also. But I couldn't find where he stored it, and I checked

my supply. It was still full!



At this point I was ready to give up because all the people knew about

scratch except me. I decided to try a different approach. One day,

when my husband was not doing anything, I said, "Honey, I wish you'd

bake a cake."



He got out the flour, sugar, shorting, eggs, and milk, but not a sign

of scratch. I watched him blend it together, pour it into a pan, and

slide it in the oven to bake. An hour later, as we were eating the

cake, I looked at him and smiled and said, "Honey, why don't we raise

a few chickens?