Making Molasses

When I was a kid, my Dad raised a big garden. In addition to the typical fruits and vegetables most gardeners plant, he also grew a few other odds and ends that most of the neighbors were not familiar with. In particular, I remember his sugarcane plants. Similar in appearance to bamboo, these svelte plants towered over me and my sister as we ran around the garden and played. Oftentimes, to keep us busy and out of his way (and to agitate my Mom), my Dad would give us several small sections of a sweet stalk to chew on.

Once the sugarcane was ready to harvest, my Dad and my uncle set about making molasses, using a contraption that was a combination of an old wringer washing machine, a cylinder, and other stuff. They would run the sugarcane stalks through the wringer, flattening them out as they extracted the juice. Next, the sugary liquid was funneled through a pipe into a big, metal container, kept red-hot by an open fire that was constantly surrounded by humming bees. Finally, it was cooked and stirred until it reached the desired consistency, i.e. molasses.

Although my description of the molasses-making process is rudimentary at best, as a child hyped up on sugar, the operation was fascinating to watch. And the idea that my Dad could do something the other dads could not made me a proud daughter indeed.