A Freezer Full

An empty freezer fills most of the floor space in my newly-wed-nest’s kitchen. I appreciate the generosity of my first grandfather figure, Dan’s “Granddaddy.” A couple of months ago when Dan brought me as his bride to New Jersey, Granddaddy quizzed us down about what we needed to set ourselves up in life. We had a bed, a couch, and a dinette we purchased, our furnishings completed with a coffee table and two end tables Dan built. Abundant cranberry boxes made bookshelves, bedside stands, and an entertainment center. I couldn’t think of anything to tell him we needed. His eyes lit up with an idea, “Every farm wife needs a good freezer!” He examined the floor space of our apartment and decided a small chest freezer would be just the ticket.

Now I lift the lid to place inside some ground beef for making hamburger stroganoff, and the cold air of the void greets me. I wonder how am I ever going to transform myself into a proper farm-wife and put this gift to use.

I’m not off to a great start, truth be told. I bought the wrong ingredients for the first meal I tried to cook for my husband and wound up in tears when it didn’t turn out. Dan chuckled at me and ate it with gusto. I blame my mother and her perfectionism for never letting me mess up in her kitchen. Now I’m married into a family of famous cooks and all I can make is brownies and chocolate chip cookies. They are delicious, but I can’t keep us healthy on that.

I let the freezer door down gently and put away the rest of my sparse groceries while worrying about my wifely capabilities. It’s not for lack of education or desire to keep house well. I took every Home Ec course my high school offered. I love collecting recipes and puttering in my tiny one-bedroom apartment trying to make it homey. An idea niggles in my subconscious. If I could fill my freezer, it might just boost my confidence enough to start me on my way to domestic proficiency.

It's October, and the cranberries are being harvested. From my first date with Dan, I’ve learned about the beauty of the crimson harvest. Pictures cannot do justice to swirls of color, from white then light to deep rose making patterns in the dark red fruit floating on cedar water, moving as the pool shifts shapes and shrinks. I spend my first weekend on the farm soaking in crisp clear air and tossing stray berries at Dan’s young cousins who quickly learn they have better aim than I.

I follow truckloads of harvested berries to the cleaning and packing house and watch as they are bounced through a sorter. Only pristine fruit makes it into the crate at the end of the bouncing. Granddaddy gives me a box-full to take to my co-workers at Campbell’s on Monday. I wonder if anyone will know how to make their own sauce for Thanksgiving.

Word spreads quickly through the chemistry labs where I work, and when I return to my desk after morning break, the quarter-barrel box I had left fifteen minutes before is empty. I’m happy that my husband’s family toil is appreciated. I guess someone does have uses for fresh cranberries. “They came like scavengers and cleaned you out as soon as they heard, ‘free-berries,’” my boss shakes his head. I’ll bring more in case he didn’t get enough.

Over the next few weekends, we give berries to friends and I box up some to send to my mother in Alabama. The hardy fruit travels well and will stay fresh until Christmas if kept cool. Mother experiments with a Southern Living cranberry sauce recipe and reports she couldn’t even let it get cool. My father mopped it all up with biscuits and cornbread so she’ll have to hide it from him the next time she makes it.

I clean and sort berries of my own. I have an abundant supply, so why not experiment myself? By October’s end, when I open the little chest freezer, I can barely fit in the Cornish Hens I bought on sale at Acme. Bags and bags of vermillion, maroon, burgundy, and scarlet heap on top of each other. Maybe I overdid it in my zeal to fill the freezer? I better round up some recipes!

For You: Did your ambitions ever take-over and fill to overflowing?

Also For You: Subscribers, that freezer full of cranberries started my forty-year quest to find ways to empty it harvest after harvest. I’m sending you a pdf of my favorites.