New Year’s Day

There was one tradition that my parents and grandparents continued to share while my granddad Ray Miner was alive. Granddad Ray and Grandma Rebecca Miner had a farm. This gave them access to rich milk, thick cream, and home churned yellow butter. Gram would bake several spicy apple pies with lard crusts, flakey and brown.

My dad and Mom, Carl and Sybil Miner Beck would buy several cans of oysters. Dad always bought the oysters early, afraid that there would be none available when he wanted them. Dad would carry in the silver white cans, trimmed in Navy blue. The plastic widow on top displayed the meaty morsels inside. He’d buy a gallon of vanilla ice cream and a couple cellophane bags of the oyster crackers. Oyster soup just wouldn’t be the same without them.

New Year’s day, we’d gather at the Miner farmhouse and start the cooking process of the butter, rich milk, oysters, salt and pepper. The large stock pot would simmer on Gram’s wood burning kitchen cook stove while the ice cream was tucked away in the old chest freezer on the back porch. The air was already heavy with the aroma of cinnamon and apples from the pies in the oven.

While stew simmered, we would often play dominoes or Pachesi on the dining room table. My mom would get up to occasionally stir the oyster stew. Heads would turn to see if the stew was ready. Mom would return and games would continue. When we thought we could wait no longer, the games were stored away and the shallow cream colored bowls with tiny flowered rims were taken from the cupboard and set out around the table. Dad would carry the pot into the dining room and either Gram or Mom would use a ladle to dispense the buttery ambrosia careful to limit the number of oysters for each person. I can remember being restless as I waited for everyone to be served. About this time, the pies would be baked and the pies removed. The rush of the spices was almost unbearable.

Dad would say grace and the cellophane bag of crackers were passed around. I’d keep a small pile beside my bowl, tossing in only a few at a time to keep them from getting soggy. The rich peppery broth was just enough to eat until the pies were sliced and the vanilla ice cream was scooped on. We didn’t wait to eat the pie, because the ice cream would begin to melt.

Yes, Mom and Dad would have the pork and sauerkraut for New Year’s Eve, but all the time eyes were set n the New Year’s Day feast.