Basket of Chips, page 129

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Identifier /tanner/image/basket_chips.xml
Title A Basket of Chips: An Autobiography
Creator Harwood, James Taylor, 1860-1940
Subject Artists; Painters; Artists' writings
Subject Local Harwood, James Taylor, 1860-1940; Artists--Utah--Biography; Harwood, Harriett Richards, (1870-1922)
Description These memoirs of Utah artist and teacher James T. Harwood cover a wide range of subjects including farming, gardening, bird watching and cooking. But, primarily, "A Basket of Chips" is about his early love, Harriett Richards, and their life together.
Publisher Tanner Trust Fund University of Utah Library, Salt Lake City, Utah
Contributors Olpin, Robert S.; Ward, Margery W.; Cooley, Everett L.; Madsen, Brigham D.; Tyler, S. Lyman
Date 1985
Type Text
Format application/pdf
Language eng
Relation Is part of: Utah, the Mormons, and the West, no. 12
Coverage 1860-1940
Rights Management University of Utah, Copyright 2001
Holding Institution J. Willard Marriott Library, University of Utah.
Source Physical Dimensions 14.5 cm x 22.75 cm
Source Characteristics Printed Hard Cover Book
Scanning Technician Karen Edge
Metadata Cataloger Kenning Arlitsch; Jan Robertson
Call Number N 6537 H364 A2 1985
ARK ark:/87278/s6zs2vsj
Topic Artists; Painters; First person narrative
Setname uum_ttb
Date Created 2005-04-20
Date Modified 2011-04-07
ID 327930
Reference URL

Page Metadata

Identifier 151.gif
Title Basket of Chips, page 129
Description Rzlmindtions of Life and Art desserts of any kind; no white bread, but the most delicious graham. It was mixed and set to rise at night, then in the morning a pan of biscuits were mixed out and when ready were baked just to a nice brown, and for my own special treat, they were wrapped in a cloth and the pan put on top that they might steam and soften up the crust. By the time my out-door work was done, milking, feeding or a little gardening, I would pull up my usual office chair, and uncover those rich brown biscuits, and with a large piece of golden butter, made from Brownie's cream, eat with a magnificent zest. There would be honey, per- haps, from our own bees. Such breakfasts we had. For thirty years we had that bread, and when she was not able, she taught us how to make it, Ruth and I, until we made it as good. There was never a noon meal - onlv lunch from whatever was handy. But the dinners ! During all her working hours she sang snatches of anything that came to her mind. Now to me it is everlasting silence, depressing and bleak. We often joked her, asking for a change. She would laugh and go at it the harder, always good natured and ready to jolly. At Sunday morning breakfasts all napkins were soiled and ready for the wash. I invariably folded mine up and put it in the ring, and she would have the laugh on me. Each Sunday now, I miss it. But it was dinner I started to tell about. One that was her own creation just for me, but no one ever sat down to the table that did not enjoy it. For over twenty years she prepared them when the articles were in season. It was "fried tomatoes." For twenty years I have studied and schemed to grow the earliest variety in the quickest way. I have had young plants in the window with ripe fruit on in June, two months earlier than the regular crop. She gathered them when they were just ripe enough to be solid, peeled them, cut them in slices and dipped the slices in flour. The ham was first fried and placed to one side and the big platter was covered with slices of toasted bread. Then the tomatoes were fried until crisp and placed generously over the 129
Format application/pdf
Source A Basket of Chips: An Autobiography
Setname uum_ttb
Date Created 2005-04-14
Date Modified 2005-04-14
ID 327609
Reference URL