Just a Little

My grandmother, who was born in 1881 was this type of cook. No one could cook like my grandmother. Her cakes and pies were blue-ribbon winners every year at the South Carolina State Fair. Her fig preserves were ribbon envies of every judge's wife. Her black fruit cake recipe? Yea! I got it once just by watching very closely. She had more satin ribbons than you could shake a stick at!

In the 30's and the years of WWII, when drug stores were that and nothing more, she made blue ribbon sandwiches for them, from her home, and by the end of the lunch hour, they were sold out--pimento cheese, chicken salad, egg salad--these were the favored ones.

Folks would come in, sit at one of the twirling counter stools or at a little ice-cream parlor table and eagerly await one, or more, of Mrs. Wright's sandwiches with a fountain Coca Cola. Coca Cola was THE beverage, and it was not unusual to overhear someone order an ammonia coke. An ammonia coke was just that--a coke into which was put just a little aromatic spirits of ammonia!

Hmmmm. I often wondered about this practice. In fact, I asked as many of the old timers as the occasion presented itself why folks drank ammonia cokes back in the thirties and forties. The answers? No surprise here. "...because they liked it. Did I ever have an ammonia Coke? Yes.

Now, take my mother today at 96 years of age and the answer lies with her. If she feels weak or faint, tired or too sleepy, overly sad or unhappy she will go for the spirits of ammonia. Ammonia cokes woke people up. It made them feel just a little bit better. Today, we have Prozac!

I always spent several weeks with my grandmother in the summer. My favorite room was the kitchen. It was in kitchens that the phrase "just a little" originated. She excelled in cooking--everything, but measured nothing. With paper and pencil, I followed her about:

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