Mom was not much of a cook. Kitchen chores were an obligation she simply could not avoid.
But Dad's Mom taught her how to make bread, and she took real pride in that. Well justified pride. Once a week she made a dozen loaves. And while we had a dairy, butter was not made at our house. We survived on margarine.
But Grandma made butter from fresh Guernsey cream, Heaven was to be at Grandma's house on baking day.
I miss all the things associated with a farm kitchen well supplied with whole milk and eggs, wholesome homemade custards, and puddings, and ice cream.
Probably I miss most, an endless supply of fresh whole milk, and the metabolism which allows one to consume it as a beverage of choice.
