Sunday breakfast at Brookwood was a mouthwatering affair! Before meal preparation we needed to bring Dad small stacks of good, dry kindling wood to stoke the fire in the mammoth wood burning stove. Dad used his special mojo and got the coffee perking while wheedling the stove top and the oven to just the right temperature. Mom and my Aunt Martha, Dad’s younger sister, worked in the hot kitchen preparing the feast that would break our hunger pains. Uncle Carl, Aunt Martha’s husband, provided a welcome part of the breakfast; fat, shiny, freshly caught rainbow trout.

We would also have perfectly fried eggs, fluffy pancakes, sometimes sausage, and buttered toast. Tang was the fruit “juice” of the day (it did not need refrigeration). The kids also enjoyed ice cold milk from aluminum glasses. Ah! Those glasses held the coldness so well! Anything you drank from them tasted crisp and delicious!

Sunday breakfast was…..well my mouth waters just to think of it. You can’t imagine the taste of a forest fresh breakfast cooked on a wood stove unless you have been there.