Navy bean soup

Someone is making soup! Somebody is making beans! Does it make you hungry on this cold day in February? Do beans bring back memories?

When Shirley wrote to say that she was cooking ham, making soup, and baking beans it seemed like the perfect blog.

As we know as we do genealogy, many stories, and bits of information lead to something else. Keep your senses open, because all of them are going to help you remember the the neatest things.

I had a friend from Arkansas; he didn't have long to live. I asked him if he wanted a party or a funeral. He wanted a party. His family came to Lawrence over the Memorial Day weekend and we celebrate there for three days. One of the things he wanted to have to eat was beans and cornbread; it had been a staple at their house when he was growing up. Nothing fancy mind you, just beans and cornbread. He died on Labor Day weekend.

Not all of us are bean eaters. Not all of us wanted to go to Johnny's cafe for a bowl of bean soup and a hamburger with grilled onions. Many of us might be able to hear the sizzle of the burgers on the grill and the aroma of onions cooking as we open our reminisce doors.

In a True magazine, published in late 40s, my dad found a baked bean recipe. I found this in a recipe book from 1951 when I was looking for a oatmeal cookie recipe. My dad like beans, but he didn't like the way my mother made them. He handed her this recipe, which turned out to be the bean recipe for the rest of her life. When they had trap shoot meets and served supper, mother made beans and potato salad and my grandmother made the brown bread.

This is what the recipe says in the book:
1 pound great Northern beans soak overnight
1 teaspoon soda 10 minute wash (does not say when)
salt pork, remove the rhine
one small onion, diced

mix:
one third cup dark molasses
1 teaspoon dried mustard
three tablespoons brown sugar
mix ingredients in hot water

Line bottom of roaster with salt pork

do not disturb salt pork
add beans and onion
cover with water in which the molasses, mustard, brown sugar have been mixed.

Cook six hours at 300°

I remember going with mother to the spring in the the ditch across Shorty Holton's on Minnesota Highway one West of town to get the water to soak the beans and to make the beans. This is an important step because the water at the farm was full of chemicals.

I have heard that on Mondays when women did washing, beans were often put on the back of his stove to cook for supper. We never had beans on Monday, we had roast beef. I think it gave mother a chance to complain about the gravy being spilled on the clean table cloth. (This problem was resolved decades later by not having a table cloth on the table, however, I am certain she still cooked roast beef on Monday).

There was a family that lived in Rosewood, rather near Rosewood, named Jarshaw. Their daughter, Florence, lived with us after mother had come home from the tuberculosis hospital. Florence's other brothers and sisters were: Pearl, Elmer, Sam, Irvin, James, Maynard, and Fern. Florence was born before Fern. Sam, James, and Irvin worked for Ranum Construction in the off-farming season.

Their mother's name was Tilla. I remember her fondly, as on Sunday mornings daddy and I often visited people who lived in the Rosewood area. One of the places we went was Jarshaw's. Tilla would serve coffee and treats to us. The Siamese cat that we gave her, who always scratched me, like to lay on the porch in the sun under the washing machine. He had become docile-- almost nice under her care. Later, as a Girl Scout troop, we would go to their farm on a hike. They raise sheep, and we found the skull of a sheep in the pasture which we took home and painted green and yellow. It would become our mascot for scout troop.

It is said there were a lot of bachelors around in those days and if they prepared a favorite food they would entertain each other. Turn back your clock to about 1910. One favorite of Fred's, then still a bachelor, later to be married to Tilla, was navy bean soup. When Fred made his bean soup he would hang his shirt on a pole in the lawn and is bachelor friend would come over for dinner; when Anton hung a shirt on a pole in his yard, Fred knew to go there for dinner.

Let's talk about Mrs. Jarshaw. She was born a New Folden, MN., in 1888. She was one of eight children.

She cooked for her dad and his lumber crew when she was only 12 years of age. Her dad ran a sawmill in Riener Township, (Yes, this is the same township where the Rye's and Olson's lived). Later she and her sister would cook at the Northern Hotel in Thief River Falls. It is not certain if her parent's owned the hotel or just managed it. Beginning to be a small world isn't it?

Tilla would often tell of the times when the Soo Railroad was built by their place and how that Dago's hauled the sand in wheelbarrows for the track. They did their own cooking and baked their bread in the gravel pit. The Dago's would also buy cucumbers by the sack from her mother they called them "Gerkin's". A Dago is a disparaging term for an Italian, Spaniard, or Portuguese. It is not my intention to offend anyone, I am offering Tilla's recall.

As time went on Tilla heard about a couple of Telemarken bachelors that it settled in the area,( we are referring to Fred and his brother Martin). This was kind of exciting as she was Norwegian too. She finally got to meet them at a Christmas program in the old log school south of the swamp. These were old time basket socials were the young people seem to meet.

She was married to Fred in 1912. Her brother took them to Rosewood with a horse and buggy and they took the train to Warren to get married and return the same day. It was a deep secret, so they thought, but someone let the cat out of the bag and there were old shoes and tin cans on the roof of the house before the day ended.

Fred and Tilla started out in an old log cabin and continued to farm. Tilla love to milk cows. Her parents gave them two cows for a wedding present along with turkeys.

What fun it was to milk Old Fosie who gave the pail and a half of milk at a time. Fred also had a couple of goats but they scared the first baby so bad when Tilla was milking; the goats had to go.

When the third child, Sammy, was due they found it necessary to build a new home. Tilla often remembered the freshly whitewashed walls of the cabin and the fresh curtains on the windows. They would always whitewash just before Christmas.

Fred continued to clear land and had a lot of help from his children in doing so. He was also the neighborhood veterinarian, saving many animals for the neighbors. It's past time was playing the violin.

Tilla was a fine seamstress it came in handy with nine children to sew for, plus all of her own clothes. She also practiced mid wifery.

Fred had a stroke in April of 1940 was paralyzed in his left side and live in that state for 3 1/2 years. After his death in 1942, Tilla continue to live on the home farm and finished raising her children. She lived there until she died in April of 1964.

The last time I was on the Jarshaw farm, the construction crew was planting the crops. Irvin was recovering from back surgery. I have a picture of Rachel and her Grandpa Stan sitting next to a grain storage unit. The year was 1971. I have the honor of exchanging Christmas cards with Florence each year.

When is the last time you shared navy bean soup with a family? Shirley can answer that best by saying, TODAY!

e