Baking Day and the Pie That Took a Tumble

Warm greetings from our Amish community here in the Heartland, where Fall could not quite make up its mind this week. The week opened more like July than October, with afternoons in the eighties, and then rain moved through at midweek and the air finally began to cool. By the weekend the mornings had a fresh edge to them again, the kind that makes a warm kitchen feel just right.

This week our series on Amish food and kitchen traditions turns to baking day, which comes around once a week in most homes here as surely as wash day does. The week’s bread comes out of the oven in one long morning, and more often than not a few pies follow it. The women will tell you the day starts early. One mother has gotten up before daylight on baking day for as long as she can remember, so the oven work is finished before the heat of the afternoon sets in. In Summer she watches for a cooler day to bake. Come Winter, with the stove already going to warm the house, any day will do, and after this week that time of year does not seem so far off.

Most Amish girls learn at their mother’s side. One woman remembered that the first thing she ever baked was cookies, with her mother and sisters right beside her to help as she learned. Cookies are still what she most likes to carry to the neighbors. Her mother’s wooden rolling pin lives in her kitchen now, and it has rolled out more pie crusts and pans of rolls than anyone could count.

The children have their jobs, too. While Mom measures, a child does the mixing. When the bread has risen, the little ones get to “spank” the dough, and they prick the tops of the loaves with a fork before they go into the oven. Afterward comes what seems like a hundred dishes, and the children help wash those as well. Another mother told us her favorite baking day of all was the year her daughter was four and stood on a chair to help roll up butterhorns. To this day, nothing brings more joy to her table than a pan of hot butterhorns.

Not every baking day goes to plan. One woman sold a pie to a neighbor boy who had ridden over on his bicycle. Somewhere on the road home the pie took a tumble and landed upside down, and before long he was back at her door to buy another one. She still laughs about it.

This week, baking day reached well past the home kitchen. Word went out over the community’s telephone message line about a benefit bake sale for a Mennonite mother nearby who is facing a serious illness. Women all over the community baked a little extra, and pies and cookies were dropped off at two homes by Thursday evening. An English friend loaded everything up and drove it to town to sell. It is one of the quieter ways this community looks after its own, and its neighbors besides.

For all the work, the women agree the best part comes at the end. One said it is the first slice of fresh, hot bread with butter melting into it. Another said her favorite moment is when the last batch is mixed and she can finally sit down, maybe even close her eyes for a few minutes. With the cooler mornings back this week, that rest was well earned.

Stories from Our Amish Basket Weavers

Here are a few of the most notable moments from the families who weave the beautiful baskets featured on AmishBaskets.com, shared with us this week.

The Swarey Family

The Swarey family dug their sweet potatoes this week, and when we stopped by, the wheelbarrow was already full. Mom said they were the biggest the garden has ever given them, and nobody in the family could remember a crop to match it. We could not help ourselves and took a picture. They joked that you could make a whole meal out of just one, and looking at that wheelbarrow, nobody argued. The rest of the garden is being cleared now, with the last of the tomatoes still scattered where they fell.

The Yoder Family

The Yoder family told us Mom’s sister came up the lane early in the week with quite an armful. She had gone to the timber hunting puffball mushrooms, which come up in the Fall, and was just turning for home when she spotted a huge one past the brambles. She fought her way through the thorns to reach it and lugged it home, where it weighed in at about twelve pounds. Then she carried it over to share. Mom took one look and exclaimed, “Is that even a real mushroom?” Sadly, once it was cut open, the inside had already begun to turn brown, and nobody got to taste a bite.

"A Mother’s Love: A miraculous substance that God multiplies as He divides it."

- Amish Wisdom Overheard in the Community.