Undoubtedly the women cooked this dinner also.
This was still and would be for many years, the form their contribution to a community gathering would be expected to take. But even so, they came together as a civic group, all deeply interested in their common civic problems. So this dinner at Campus Martius may be regarded as the first community dinner in which Ohio women participated.
Consider the life of the pioneer woman. Food for her family was a problem so vital and so immediate that it must have challenged her energies to the utmost. She must have dreamed of famine, many a night. Indian corn was her main dependence as a food staple that could, if necessary, be served three times a day.
Before mills could be established, corn was ground in a handmill or was pounded in a hominy block, made by burning a hole in one end of a block of wood, in which the grains were placed and battered with pestle made by driving an iron wedge into a cleft stick. One of these means was usually available in a settlement of any size but when it was not, there was still a way and in many a settler’s cabin the corn, dried perhaps in an improvised kiln, was merely grated. For this purpose was often used a carefully treasured piece of tin which had been perforated to provide jagged protuberances. A boy, if need be, a very little boy, was a fine factor in the project. He could—and many a small boy did—grate meal for the morning johnny cake, baked in the hot ashes, then hominy made from the coarser residue, at noon and still more meal for the hot mush served at night.
More variation than this even the most resourceful housewife was often unable, in the beginning, to provide. Many a time the monotony of the fare she set before her family must have saddened her culinary soul.
However, there was, as a rule, plenty of game, provided the man of the family dared venture far enough to kill it. If fortune favored, there was venison, bear’s meat and bear’s grease for frying. Fish filled the streams and wild turkeys were plentiful. The turkeys could be split, dried and stored away for winter, the venison could also be dried, salted down and thus preserved.
The story of salt production—by pouring water into salt mines, scooping out the saline solution and boiling it down to crystals, is an epic in itself. Where salt deposits existed, this was a Godsend. But in other places salt was a luxury, costly and difficult to obtain. The Indians, apparently, cared little for its use. Henry Howe tells the story of an Indian who, apparently friendly, although he had with him his rifle and scalping knife, was sheltered overnight by a pioneer family. The housewife cooked an ample supply of venison for the evening meal. But the dark skinned guest barely sampled his portion. Obviously it was not to his liking.
In the middle of the night the savage rose from his sleeping place before the cabin fire, peered carefully about him, then drew forth his sinister blade.
