Quote:
Originally Posted by ajoe  Growing up, we were so poor that the only dessert we could afford was a pine float; a toothpick in a glass of water. |
Thank you for that ajoe! It brings back so many memories of my dad. Whenever someone new came to our home my dad always asked them what they wanted to drink but then he would ask them if they had ever had a pine float. This always seemed to get a no response followed by my dad saying he would go make one for them. Once in the kitchen you could hear my dad banging away making a huge racket. After a few minutes of this he'd return and hand over the results of his effort. As children watching his routine it was difficult to keep a straight face each time he did it!
We grew up on a farm so many things we had were made by my mom. Root beer was one of those things. As the oldest child it was my responsibility to bring the hugh stoneware crock pots from the cellar when it was time to make pickles or root beer...with the constant reminder from my mom not to drop them! After the root beer was made and bottled it was time to make the ice cream. Not with the fancy electronic machines they have now but with the old hand-cranked models. Cream from our own cows was poured into the tub and we'd all take turns cranking that monster, each of us trying to outdo the other in the time spent on the crank. It took an eternity for mom to pronounce the ice cream ready. The root beer bottles would be grabbed, brought up from the cellar, poured over the ice cream and the feasting would begin!
To this day store bought root beer taste horrible to me. I just can't drink it. Thanks for those memories!!