Skills Workshops: Processing Wheat in the 17th Century with Jean M. Roberts

Last year, I invited a number of authors to send suitable characters from their books to interview for an imaginary job in my imaginary company. Now a New Year is upon us, and as CEO of this company I've decided that my workforce needs to learn new skills for 2022. I've invited some more characters along to the blog, this time to deliver some workshops, and my employees have gathered in the outside 'picnic' area for a demonstration by Catherine Wasson Clyde, sent by her author Jean M. Roberts.

AW: Right, everyone settle down. If you can't find room on one of the benches you can sit on one of the plastic chairs. (Simons, I think it's best if you sit on your own over here.) Okay, phones off, and please give a warm welcome to our guest today...

CWC: Greetings everyone, please let me introduce myself. My name is Catherine Wasson Clyde. I live in Cherry Valley in the Mohawk Valley of New York. The year is 1778. My husband, Samuel, is a colonel in the New York Militia and is away fighting the British in our struggle to throw off the yoke of King George. All the able-bodied men of the village have gone, some fight with the loyalists other with the patriots. But work on the farm doesn’t stop just because a war is raging all around us. No, it’s up to me and the children to take care of the animals and bring in the harvest. If I don’t, we’ll starve.

Today is threshing day. We cut our wheat a week ago on a warm, sunny fall day, tied it into sheaves and brought it into the barn to protect it from rain. Samuel’s scythe is too heavy for me so I and the children used smaller hand scythes. I don’t believe I stood up straight for three entire days, so bad did my back ache. I wish Samuel was here to rub the pain away. The children’s young bodies are like the green grass, firm yet bendable. They slept well, but woke in the morning without complaint.

Image Credit

This morning, I served a hearty breakfast of hasty pudding with maple syrup and bacon to fuel our bodies for a day of hard work. After the dishes are done and the animals tended to, we gather in the large barn. The children drag their feet. Threshing is a hot, dusty process, and no one looks forward to it.

Before we start, I lay a large tarp, an old piece of sailcloth, over the dirt floor. To separate the wheat kernels from the stalks, we must beat it using a flail. What is a flail, you wonder? Each flail is made of two stout sticks, one long, like a broom handle and a second shorter fatter one. They are joined by a piece of leather. I check the leather to ensure it is well-oiled and supple and has not dried out over the summer. There’s nothing worse than a flail separating mid-swing, sending a projectile of wood flying about. I once heard of a man knocked unconscious for three days after being hit in the head. Of course, his wife claims he was only ducking out on the work!

[AW: There's no need for you all to duck. Ms Clyde knows what she's doing, and the safety officer checked everything this morning.]

CWC: We start by placing several sheaves into the center of the tarp and position ourselves in a circle around it. We pick up our flails by the long end, and one by one we swing them so that the short end beats the wheat. It takes a while for everyone to get into rhythm. To help and to make the time pass, we sing songs. Before long, we are working together as a team, taking breaks to rest or add more sheaves to the pile. 

[Video in slow motion of this action: Click HERE]

At last, we rake the wheat straw from the kernels. We waste nothing on the farm, using the straw to stuff our mattresses and to feed the cows. Too tired to do more, the children and I return to the house. I spread a calendula salve on our red, chapped palms then send the children out to finish the day’s chores while I prepare our supper. With Samuel gone, it will take us many more days to thresh all the wheat. He can thresh 500 pounds of grain in a single day!

The process is not yet finished. There is more work to be done! I’ll wait for a sunny, windy day to winnow the kernels from their thick protective coating. I use a winnowing tray to toss the wheat into the air, letting the stiff breeze carry away the lighter chaff. Before I store the kernels, the children and I pick out any small pebbles or other debris by hand. 

To use the wheat, I need to take it to the mill to have it ground into flour. We are lucky that the miller is too old to fight and has remained in the valley. I carry a sack of wheat to him each week or two as the flour spoils quickly, especially in the cold damp of winter. Each week, the girls and I make bread, rolls and pies with our flour. I take special pride in knowing that my hand touched the grain from planting to eating. Samuel will be proud of his children; they have been a great help to me. I hope this war ends soon, and he returns to us.  

I hope you have enjoyed my little presentation. I’m a little embarrassed to say this, but someone has written a book about me and Samuel. It’s called Blood in the Valley and it tells the story of how my Scots-Irish parents, siblings and I left New Hampshire to settle in the wilds of New York. Several historians have praised it for its authenticity in its portrayal of rural colonial life. 

The author, Jean M. Roberts, is a distant cousin of mine. You can follow her on social media here:

My Blog: The Books Delight

Amazon Author Page

Follow me on Twitter

Follow me on Facebook

Instagram 

Website

Blood in the Valley is available at Amazon and can be read for free using Kindle Unlimited. 

Amazon US

AW: Let's hear it again for our guest today! (And Simons, I heard that comment. No, we can't sack the canteen chef and get Ms Clyde to come and provide fresh loaves every day.)

Our next guest will be Sir Robert Devereaux, Earl of Essex, sent by author Tony Riches. For his demonstration, I'll need you to stay behind the safety ropes at all times...

(If you missed the last post, you can catch it here: Lady Lucy Apsley's Great Tower Bake-Off)