Made From Scratch
My mother never let me help much in the kitchen. As a result, my cooking ability was practically non-existent 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" cook book - wedding gift. I looked and looked for a recipe using scratch. There I was 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 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 he had made is 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 lb 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, shortening, eggs and milk, but not a sign of scratch. I watched him blend it together, put it into a pan, and slide it into the over 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?"