I think we all can recall a moment when we are brought back to memories of a different time; when our senses of hearing, sight and even smell have transformed us, taking us back to an experience in history. When that happens to me, I am so grateful and so astonished to be a part of this time travel.
A Christmas memory of one such event of time travel occurred in a very historic place, and even now when I go there, I remember it clearly.
It was in 2013, and I was driving north on Route 49 to the Head of the River Church. That is a historic Methodist church in Estell Manor.
It was early December, and the church was open the first Sunday in December for its Christmas service.
It was snowing and there was several inches covering the area as I arrived at about 2 p.m. and parked 200 yards behind the church. There is a large cemetery with headstones and grave markers dating back to the 1700s that sit very close to the church. You have to walk among them as you head for the door.
I exited the car and stepped into a quiet winter day. Snow was falling softly over the trees and covered every edge of the headstones and corner markers and monuments that had been part of the Methodist cemetery for years.
The Head of the River Church is the oldest house of worship in Atlantic County, and the oldest Methodist church in the State of New Jersey.
It was built in 1792 and added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1979.
Once a regular gathering place for the town’s people back then, it opens only a few times a year, for weddings, baptisms, funerals, the first Sunday in December for its Christmas service, and the second Sunday in October for the commemoration of its construction.
At that moment, when I arrived it was quiet, beautiful, covered in winter white and a secret place.
I was back in time, seeing brave and thankful families also walking and arriving in horse-drawn carriages, bundled in their winter clothes, coming to decorate the church with greens for Christmas and sing carols and celebrate.
My mind's eye had me among those who worked and raised families and prayed right in the same spot I was standing.
Just then I heard the sound of music, real music. It was the sound of a bagpipe playing "Amazing Grace," cutting through the silence of this holy place.
Its sound was so haunting in the distance yet I was very grateful to be there in the right place, at the right time. I was so absorbed in that moment and experiencing history past and present.
I walked along the uneven ground crunching snow and passed beside the graves and headstones of people who had built the Head of River Church such a long time ago.
I rounded the building and smelled the fresh cut greens and saw the faces of others coming to this service, feeling the chill outside and stepping into the doorway and feeling the warmth that was created inside.
This little white building has the capacity hold about 200 people and has two levels with pews cut from wood and painted. The upstairs second level has bleacher-like seating on three walls that look down over the raised alter.
The ceiling is tin and painted white. The roof is made of cedar shingles. It has green wood shutters that cover the windows when the church is closed.
I consider how many times someone had sat in this very seat. Sung a hymn, rocked a child and held hands with a loved one, cried or prayed.
I think of how much work went into caring for this place of worship then and today.
I was grateful to be a part of that service and to have shared some hot cider and fellowship just as those in 1700 and 1800s may have.
This snowy day allowed time to stand still and also let me step into a place then and now, a group of people, a celebration, a proof of days gone and lives carrying on. I am glad I was there at just the right time.
Poor Man’s Cake
I am providing a recipe for a Poor Man's Cake that certainly has some history to it, as Boiled raisin-type cakes date back at least to the American Civil War.
This is a simple raisin spice cake recipe using common ingredients to create a delicious version of a timeless classic.
This recipe has been handed down in families for generations. It is called Poor Man's Cake because you don't need milk, butter or eggs to make it. During the depression, these were expensive, and during World War II they were rationed.
It is an excellent, moist cake that needs no frosting.
On another note, my mother Anna Brennan would use this recipe as a base for her fruitcake, adding candy fruits and chopped walnuts. Please remember that some folks like fruitcake!
Poor Man's Cake Recipe
Ingredients
• 2 cups raisins
• 3 cups water
• 1 1/2 cups sugar
• 1/2 cup butter
• 3 cups flour
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1/2 tsp ground ginger
• 1/2 tsp cloves
• 1/2 tsp nutmeg
• 1 tsp cinnamon
Instructions
1. In a saucepan combine the raisins and water. Bring to a rolling boil and then reduce heat and simmer for about five minutes.
2. Add sugar and shortening and on low heat cook and stir until it is melted and the sugar is dissolved.
3. Let this mixture cool down a bit
4. Sift together the flour, baking soda, baking powder, and spices.
5. Pour the raisin mixture onto the dry ingredients and stir with a wooden spoon until well blended but do not over mix the batter. Pour the batter into a well-greased and floured Bundt pan or tube pan.
6. Bake at 350 degrees F for about 1 hour or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
7. Cool in the pan for 10 minutes then run a knife around the tube and edge of cake to loosen from pan before turning the cake out onto a wire rack to cool completely.
8. Plate and serve or Store in an airtight container.
9. Feel the essences of history and abundance as you eat your cake.
Note: For fruitcake add two to three cups of chopped “candied fruit” such as pineapple, cherries or classic mixed candied fruit. Stir in two or three tablespoons of the dry ingredients [flour] into the candied fruit to prevent it from sinking to the bottom as the cakes bakes.
1 cup of chopped nuts also can be added to the batter. Prepare and bake as above.
Have a Very Merry Christmas.
Jargowski writes from South Dennis