Blue Willow

Looking at the design on a blue willow plate is one of my first memories, and maybe that's why I've always loved the pattern. Our Grandma Anna used her blue willow set for Sunday dinners in Quakertown, Pennsylvania.

I'm sure she cooked other things, but I remember eating roast chicken with peas and spaetzle. She raised the chickens on their farm, then grandpa carved at the table and doled it out. Sometimes there was a small glass of cold tomato juice for everyone first, and I thought that was delicious and special because in those days, people usually just sat down and tucked into the main course.

Her set of dishes is gone except for a few cups and plates I've managed to save over the years. They have crisscrossed the country many times, and when I emptied the cupboards out last weekend I had the chance to look at them again. You'd think a teacup stamped "Made in Occupied Japan" would be valuable, but I found many others like it on Ebay offered for a just few dollars.

The Japanese must have exported thousands of cheap blue willow dishes to America in the late 1940's. My cup is priceless because I watched Grandpa Herman drink coffee out of it 60 years ago. He was always nice, but his reserve and German accent made us a bit in awe of him.

Herman, Anna and great-grandmother

Compared to frantic pace of life now, it's hard to imagine how quiet rural Pennsylvania was in the early 1950's.  Life was slow and Sunday dinner was a long, drawn-out affair.  There were no outside distractions at the table. Manners were nice. Adults ate slowly and talked and talked, while children sat and listened, unless someone spoke to them first. I can never remember kids being the center of attention at a meal. I suppose this sounds strict and repressed, but everyone was happy and relaxed.

In those days children didn't jump up and leave the table without permission.  After a while someone might notice you were done eating, and then say you could now ask to be excused.  Being a piggy child when it came to yummy food, I probably gobbled up my dinner and then had nothing to do except look at the imaginary world on the plate.  I'd make up stories in my head about the oriental people, the birds and the boat.  I guess it didn't take much to keep us amused, if a plate was that fascinating.

One other thing I noticed about these old dishes that speaks volumes about how we eat now.  They are small.  Before everyone drank out of mugs, the cups were tiny and the dinner plates about the size of the salad plates I use now.  One farm-raised chicken fed 4 adults and 3 hungry kids. You didn't get all you could eat, but you always got enough.