Annie Erickson's 30 amp waffles
Anna Honningsvåg Erickson
Svein,
It was good to see you again and hopefully our paths will cross before the 2020 reunion. I put together a short story of our trip this year and also this story about Annie Erickson. I will send last year's stories also and hopefully you will receive all copies. Don
-
Sept. 13th 2016
6:00 am in the middle of the Alberta prairie. My mother's birth place lies just beyond the coulee before me, a long gone modest house that had just replaced a pioneer's sod hut (my grand father Elmer Erickson) at the beginning of the 19th century. The steeple in the distance of the little church called Sharon reflects the golden sunlight. A mist rises off the lake in the coulee where nearby hungry calves awake and nuzzle their mothers. Three deer graze just beyond the fence in the garden area below the cabin. There is a beauty before me this morning that lures the poet to his pen ... the artist to his canvas ... the religious mystic to his deepest thought. You must spend a few nights at the Erickson hytta (Norwegian for cabin) to get a deep appreciation of the beauty of this area.
Undoubtedly, farmers gather around breakfast tables this morning, holding on to cups of coffee, forming the "battle" plans for the day. In a few hours, combines awaiting orders, will march across the prairie like General Patton's army tanks, gleaning this years harvest. Trucks will haul the bounty to elevators where idle trains await to move the grain to the various ports in Canada. A hungry world must be fed.
ANNIE ERICKSON'S 30 AMP WAFFLES
Carl Engquist wasn't beyond making sure he got his share of the bounty produced off the Alberta prairies before the grain left for the ports. You see, the big Swede stood somewhere about six foot eight inches and you could imagine the appetite that went along with supporting that frame. Being the local John Deere dealer in Irma, he also made fuel deliveries to various farms. Gas and diesel back then was brought to the farms in 45 gallon barrels and Carl could almost pick up these barrels by himself and set them on the ground.
Carl was well aware of Grandma Annie Erickson's good cooking and he also discovered that son Lloyd had recently built a wind generator for the farm and whenever the windmill put out 30 amps of electricity, there was a good chance Annie would be making waffles on her electric waffle iron and what better time for Carl to call and make a fuel delivery.
"Annie, are you making waffles today?" came the phone call on a windy morning. And within a half hour Carl would be at the farm, fork in hand, sitting at the table. The waffles were of a special variety that might not be found at your local IHOP (International House Of Pancakes) today where diligent parents will be looking over the ingredients list to make sure their kid is getting their daily ferrous sulfate, thiamine mono nitrate, and sodium acid pyrophosphate (PYRO WHAT? Isn't that something you should be looking for on your package of 4th of July fireworks?)
Annie's waffles on the other hand were made with those wholesome ingredients found in abundance on the prairie including lard and maybe seasoned with a little bacon fat. Today's politically correct diner looking for that low-fat, low-cal, egg white McScramble might have to look elsewhere and not at Annie Ericksons for breakfast.
Young John Erickson could be found at the table watching in amazement as Carl prepared his waffles with homemade butter and Saskatoon syrup. According to John, Carl assumed each of the small squares in the waffle was there for a reason; to fill with butter and syrup and he made sure to fill every one of them before he proceeded to eat.
Annie's culinary abilities were appreciated by others in the community too, especially the preacher at Sharon Lutheran church. The preachers in these small community churches usually were shared by 2 or 3 congregations. After the service at Sharon on Sunday morning, the pastor made sure he let Annie know he would be stopping by before he continued on to the next congregation out to the west of the farm and that meant lunch. According to Uncle John, grandma Annie would often pull out a jar of homemade canned chicken or canned beef to make a quick but delicious Sunday dinner. (I can still remember having mom's canned chicken and canned beef, and it had such good flavor and texture).
Yes, I think these were the "Good Old Days!"
Don
It was good to see you again and hopefully our paths will cross before the 2020 reunion. I put together a short story of our trip this year and also this story about Annie Erickson. I will send last year's stories also and hopefully you will receive all copies. Don
-
Sept. 13th 2016
6:00 am in the middle of the Alberta prairie. My mother's birth place lies just beyond the coulee before me, a long gone modest house that had just replaced a pioneer's sod hut (my grand father Elmer Erickson) at the beginning of the 19th century. The steeple in the distance of the little church called Sharon reflects the golden sunlight. A mist rises off the lake in the coulee where nearby hungry calves awake and nuzzle their mothers. Three deer graze just beyond the fence in the garden area below the cabin. There is a beauty before me this morning that lures the poet to his pen ... the artist to his canvas ... the religious mystic to his deepest thought. You must spend a few nights at the Erickson hytta (Norwegian for cabin) to get a deep appreciation of the beauty of this area.
Undoubtedly, farmers gather around breakfast tables this morning, holding on to cups of coffee, forming the "battle" plans for the day. In a few hours, combines awaiting orders, will march across the prairie like General Patton's army tanks, gleaning this years harvest. Trucks will haul the bounty to elevators where idle trains await to move the grain to the various ports in Canada. A hungry world must be fed.
ANNIE ERICKSON'S 30 AMP WAFFLES
Carl Engquist wasn't beyond making sure he got his share of the bounty produced off the Alberta prairies before the grain left for the ports. You see, the big Swede stood somewhere about six foot eight inches and you could imagine the appetite that went along with supporting that frame. Being the local John Deere dealer in Irma, he also made fuel deliveries to various farms. Gas and diesel back then was brought to the farms in 45 gallon barrels and Carl could almost pick up these barrels by himself and set them on the ground.
Carl was well aware of Grandma Annie Erickson's good cooking and he also discovered that son Lloyd had recently built a wind generator for the farm and whenever the windmill put out 30 amps of electricity, there was a good chance Annie would be making waffles on her electric waffle iron and what better time for Carl to call and make a fuel delivery.
"Annie, are you making waffles today?" came the phone call on a windy morning. And within a half hour Carl would be at the farm, fork in hand, sitting at the table. The waffles were of a special variety that might not be found at your local IHOP (International House Of Pancakes) today where diligent parents will be looking over the ingredients list to make sure their kid is getting their daily ferrous sulfate, thiamine mono nitrate, and sodium acid pyrophosphate (PYRO WHAT? Isn't that something you should be looking for on your package of 4th of July fireworks?)
Annie's waffles on the other hand were made with those wholesome ingredients found in abundance on the prairie including lard and maybe seasoned with a little bacon fat. Today's politically correct diner looking for that low-fat, low-cal, egg white McScramble might have to look elsewhere and not at Annie Ericksons for breakfast.
Young John Erickson could be found at the table watching in amazement as Carl prepared his waffles with homemade butter and Saskatoon syrup. According to John, Carl assumed each of the small squares in the waffle was there for a reason; to fill with butter and syrup and he made sure to fill every one of them before he proceeded to eat.
Annie's culinary abilities were appreciated by others in the community too, especially the preacher at Sharon Lutheran church. The preachers in these small community churches usually were shared by 2 or 3 congregations. After the service at Sharon on Sunday morning, the pastor made sure he let Annie know he would be stopping by before he continued on to the next congregation out to the west of the farm and that meant lunch. According to Uncle John, grandma Annie would often pull out a jar of homemade canned chicken or canned beef to make a quick but delicious Sunday dinner. (I can still remember having mom's canned chicken and canned beef, and it had such good flavor and texture).
Yes, I think these were the "Good Old Days!"
Don
Anna Honningsvåg and Elmer Ericksons and children.