SORGHUM SYRUP

My Father raised cane. The amount of cane he raised depended upon the amount of molasses that my Mother had on the shelf in the cellar. I cannot recall a meal at our house without a jar of molasses on the table. We usually finished a meal with a hot buttered biscuit or a piece of cornbread smothered with sorghum syrup, what we called molasses. It was made from the juice of a special cane type plant called sorghum. My Grandfather even spread it on his pickled beans!

The manufacturing process was quite simple. The juice was heated and kept just above the boiling point. As it simmered the scum was skimmed off the top and thrown away. The water simply boiled away and you were left with the best syrup to ever cap a flapjack!

A neighbor owned the best cane mill and the largest cooking vat around. He charged one tenth of the production for the use of his equipment. The size of our cane patch was in direct proportion to the size of this vat.

The day before a molasses boilin’ we would cut and strip the cane and place it in a large pile at the edge of the cane patch. The mill was quite simple. Two big steel cylinders were set in a reinforced frame on end side by side. They were geared to turn one cylinder clockwise and the other cylinder in the opposite direction. Attached to these gears at a right angle was a strong wooden rail or bar about twelve feet long. A horse or a team of oxen would pull the bar around in a circle turning the cylinders. Someone would feed the cane stalks between the turning cylinders and squeeze the juice. The green colored juice would flow into a container below and from there it was carried to the cooking vat.

Close by, a furnace was built the same size of the vat. It was about two feet high and was made of loose stones. The back and sides were sealed with clay mud and a stovepipe protruded from the rear. The front was left open and this created a draft. The fire was regulated to some degree with the amount of wood used for fuel.

Skimmers were made from old bucket lids or pieces of tin. They were punctured with a lot of nail holes and were fastened on the end of long wooden poles. People usually brought their own skimmers.

The furnace was usually fired up in the evening time, just before dark. People were never invited to a molasses boilin’! They just showed up! It was a combination of work, socializing and fun all rolled up into one exciting event. Men and boys with fiddles, banjos, guitars and harmonicas always came. Young and old took turns square dancing while others squeezed the juice, tended the furnace and skimmed the scum. Old and feeble men patted their feet while whittling wooden scrapers for the children to use to sample the syrup while the helped to clean the vat. Everyone worked, everyone socialized and almost everyone danced!

The musicians would keep playing and a group would sing old time gospel hymns while we sopped and cleaned the vat. The foamy stuff around the sides was always the best!

The next day we filled all kinds of containers with molasses and my Mother baked gingerbread that would melt in your mouth.

Those were the best of times!

If you are a pancake maker,
Or a real good cookie baker,
Searching for some good molasses,
Stored in dusty, old snuff glasses.
I am sure they can be found
But, stay out of mole holes
In the ground!