This morning, if I’ve set things properly, my post is publishing itself, and I am driving to Corry, Pennsylvania, to be with my family for my Aunt Lillian’s memorial service tomorrow.
My mother, born Barbara Jean Bennett, had seven sisters and two brothers, and each one I knew was interesting and kind. (I never met Uncle Bernard. He died before I was born.)
When we were growing up, Aunt Lillian and her husband, our Uncle Fred, were synonymous with the word Corry.
On many Sunday afternoons, during the period of my childhood that I remember most clearly and most fondly, the families of the Bennett siblings who lived in the area would gather at one of three houses: our house in Edinboro, Aunt Lottie’s house in North East or Aunt Lillian and Uncle Fred’s house in Corry. On Sunday mornings before church, we’d ask my mom, “Are we going to Aunt Lottie’s house or to Corry? Or is Corry coming here?” In the second question, our “Corry” meant EVERYONE.
So today, with Corry seeming so permanently changed, I thought I’d share a wedding picture of Aunt Lillian and Uncle Fred (married on September 29, 1945) and the recipe we always hoped she’d be making when we arrived at their wonderful home over the railroad tracks, past the huge grey barn and up the long, long hill on Hereford Road.
Lillian Marsh’s Spaghetti Sauce
(published via Lynette Marsh McMeekan’s contribution on page 25 in the Bennett Family Cookbook, vol. 2)
7 green peppers
1 1/2 lb. cooking onions
blend in blender with a touch of water
5 lbs. hamburger
1 1/2 lb. hot sausage
Salt, pepper, garlic powder and chili powder to taste.
Brown and pour off grease.
1 large can tomato sauce
1 t. sugar
67 oz. Prego
100 oz. Ragu
Makes a lot! We have enjoyed this at reunion for many years. Little did we know Lillian’s secret to homemade sauce was Ragu and Prego!
I’m looking forward to seeing Corry tomorrow. Aunt Lillian won’t be laughing in the kitchen, but everyone will be there, and I’m grateful that I will be too.
P.S. Next week’s cookies will be cookies, I hope, and I look forward to being able to tell you, again, in person, to,”Come and get ’em.”