Cravings

I have been having withdrawals for the last 7 years. That's how long it's been since I've had anything from Butte Creek Mill. This mill was built and began operation in 1872. On the banks of Butte Creek, pioneers erected a central mill where farmers brought their grain to be made into flour, cereal and cornmeal. And the stone has been grinding along in Eagle Point ever since. I grew up with their buckwheat pancakes and steel cut oats wherever my family lived. My grandmother would send my mom the mixes monthly. Those pancakes slathered with applesauce, steaming in a lovely pile on my plate; best foodie childhood memory, hands down. My sister and I ventured to the Mill and were catapulted back in time. Pushing opening the squeaky spring-loaded door, warm drafts of cinnamon enveloped us with open arms, welcoming us home. The black wood-burning potbellied stove crackled in the corner with a pan of spiced apples bubbling away on top. The amount of goodies had grown over the years. Rough hewn shelves groaned under their burdens of cracked wheat and cornmeal. Sacks of oatmeal, spelt flour and soup mixes lay in orderly rows while jars of spices sat behind the century old plank board counter. We both loaded our arm baskets with an assortment of goodies; hoping it's enough to tide us over. For how long? Definitely not 7 years.