Silver Polishing for the Hopelessly Lazy

So on Saturday I promised to let you in on 

The Lazy Lady's Silver Polishing method.
It is cheap, non-toxic, and doesn't leave a funny chemical smell on your flatware.  Promise.

Here it is, in a post from May 23, 2011.

Read it, and never dread silver polishing again.

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A Lazy Lady Polishes Her Silver

You may already know that I've got a
boatload of old silverplated flatware.  

I love the stuff.

I hate to polish it.

With our daughter's wedding coming up in fewer than 5 weeks,

I want even my mismatched old silverware in its best bib and tucker for the occasion.

Leave me out in the air, and I wrinkle.

Leave silver out in the air, and it tarnishes.

It just happens, y'know?

But at least for the silver, there are remedies.

Below, The Lazy Lady's Silver Polishing treatment has begun for some pieces,

while their tarnished relatives wait patiently alongside the hot tub.

Welcome to The Lazy Lady's Silver Polishing Club.

All you need to join are some bits of silver, plated or sterling.

Line them up like meek little lambs in a disposable aluminum pan.
(You can also line a non-reactive pan with aluminum foil.  I find the pan is easier.  I'm all about easy.)

Membership in this Club is free, or pretty darned close to it,

because the only thing you need to buy is a big box of this stuff, which is cheap:

Generously sprinkle plain old baking soda over your waiting victims flatware.

And put the kettle on to boil.

Pour the boiling water over the baking-soda-covered flatware.

It will bubble up most gratifyingly, then settle down.

Walk away, put your feet up, have a cuppa, come back in a little while when it's not blistering hot.

Fish the flatware out of the aluminum pan, and rinse it in the sink.

Take an old, soft towel, and dry each piece, giving a quick light buffing to really bring out the shine.

And you are done.

Your old tarnished flatware can join its gleaming relatives,
where they will all admire one another's brilliance, like families do.

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I didn't invent this method; it's been around for a long time. Even Martha Stewart has instructions for it on her web site.  It's a chemical reaction; the baking soda in water transfers the tarnish from the silver to the aluminum.

When you pour the boiling water over, you will smell tarnish -- you know that unpleasant metallic smell that settles in your nostrils?  And when the polishing is over, the pan or foil you used will be dark with tarnish, so you won't want to use that disposable pan for a batch of brownies to take to the church coffee hour.  Ick.  Save it for silver polishing!

Silver is hard to photograph.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Anyway, some pieces look dark; they are not.

One warning:  If you have valuable antique pieces, or other pieces that are purposefully antiqued, or you are particularly fond of a darkened patina on some of your silver, don't use this method.  It really polishes and cleans too well for that; you may lose those darkened areas, the ones that highlight any raised areas.  I haven't explained that very well, but you know what I mean!

But the good news is:  Lazy Lady polishing is very kind to silver, especially plated pieces and old pieces.  Commercial polishes often take off just a tiny bit of the silverplating each time they are used, and if you are vigorous with your polishing, you can find yourself getting down to brass or nickel.  (Don't ask me how I know this.)  The plating is unharmed in this process.  Just the tarnish perishes.  

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And ... we're back to November 2014.

Don't you just love time travel?

Anyway, my deadline now is not my daughter's wedding,

but Thankgiving, just 10 days away.  Eeek!  :-)

Enjoy your own holiday prep!

Question: Do you begin Christmas prep before Thanksgiving?

Just wondering .... Cass

Link Parties

It's Silver Pennies Sunday at Silver Pennies Blog.
A beautiful place to visit, or join the party.
Click here.
Life on Lakeshore Drive hosts Sunday's Bouquet of Talent party.
Lots of action here, some great featured posts, so go read, and maybe join!
Click here

Heirlooms, Apples, and Three Generations of Catherines

Heirlooms and Apples on this sunny September Friday.

You know me as Cass, but that is my gang name.

No, not really, but it is a nickname.

My Grandmother, born in 1875, was named Catherine.
My Mother, born in 1921, is named Catherine.
I, born in (mumble mumble mumble cough), am also named Catherine.

It was inevitable that I should get a few things handed down to me from
both of The Catherines. One is the ability to carry a tune pretty darned well.

Others -- a love of books and language, some skills in hand work, and a great deal of child-rearing wisdom that Howard and I embraced. It must have been excellent advice; our daughters are not in jail. Yet. Although I haven't spoken to either of them today. . . .

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Another legacy is a recipe for applesauce that I am sharing for Foodie Friday;
it dates from the days when people used all the parts of a pig except the oink; it is that thrifty.

For the Heirloom Party, I am sharing something more tangible than a singing voice
and lessons on how to think like a child. I'm sharing my Grandmother's tea set.

I apologize; it is terribly tarnished but I haven't done my pre-Thanksgiving silver polishing blitz yet. I don't polish these pieces too often, as they are old plate and I don't want to risk polishing right through to the metal beneath.

When I was a very small child, my Mama kept this set on the low coffee table in the living room.
We could look at it, but not touch.

I looked at it a lot.

I was very young when I asked if I could have it and my mother answered,
"When you get married." I think she even meant it.

About 6 years after my wedding, I finally pried it from her desperate, sweaty grasp.

I am not sure how old it is, but I guess it is from the 1920s or 30s. It's not valuable, except to me. It is 1881 Rogers Quadruple Plate, Pattern 5014. Does anyone have access to a good book on silverplated holloware?

Again, I am sorry for the condition of the pieces today;

you can see from the undersides that they polish up nicely.

Clearly, my Grandmother used this set. It has some small dings and dents.

Does anyone else think the tea pot looks like Aladdin's lamp?

I hope, if a Genie ever pops out, that he does windows, pulls weeds, and empties the dishwasher.
Them's my three wishes.

I love the engraving on the tops of the pieces, and the blank spaces for monograms. I doubt my grandparents could have afforded to have the tea pot monogrammed; they had 7 children to raise!

Okay, this post is getting long and rambling,
so I'm going to segue smoothly right into The Applesauce.

There, wasn't that smooth? So is The Applesauce. Here's what you do:

Take some apples. Any apples. Drops, bruised, or perfect, any variety. Wash them well, making sure to get into that dusty place around the stem, where the apple's belly button lint lurks.

Next, put them in a bowl and briefly admire how nice they look with drops of water artistically clinging to them.

Then get out a cutting board and a cleaver, and hack them up. Any which way.

Quartered.

Halved down the middle to expose that secret star in the center of every apple.

It doesn't matter how you chop them up, but do not peel them, do not remove their cores.
Just cut them up, and plop them into a nice big stockpot.

Add enough water that you can see it down near the bottom of the pot, between the apples.

Don't cover them up with water, or you will end up with very lumpy apple juice.
You pretty much want to steam the apples; you don't want them boiling and bobbling around.

Get the water steaming, then cook the apples over medium heat until they are soft and mushy.

Next, pull out that nifty kitchen appliance that our great-grandmothers swore by:
the food mill.

Cooked apples go into the food mill, food mill goes over a big bowl, elbow grease keeps the mill turning . . .

and you end up with a lovely bowl full of amazing applesauce.

And a big pile of empty skins and seeds and other icky parts left in the food mill,
that you can just toss out.

Meanwhile, the applesauce has gained every last bit of flavor from the apples.
No waste. You can sweeten or add cinnamon if you must; I don't.

These apples were little MacIntoshes from a New Jersey orchard; I took my Dad there yesterday as he was jonesing for some late summer peaches. I also bought some fabulous eating apples, bred specially for New Jersey.

(Meaning that when they ask, 'You wanna piece o'me? Huh?
You wanna piece of ME?" . . . you can truthfully answer, "Yes.")

Sadly I cannot remember the name of these Jersey bred apples.

I will just have to go back and get some more.

So . . . if you visited That Old House yesterday, and are desperately hungry because there was no food on the table, this is your little midday meal:

Freshly made, warm applesauce,

cornbread hot out of the oven

sharp Wisconsin Cheddar, and good Colombian coffee.

As my other Grandmother used to say, when she finished putting the food down at dinner to feed her family of 9,
"Well, that's all there is, and what are you going to do about it?"

Go ahead, sit down.
Remember the table is set in the conservatory.

If you are really peckish, I've got a little seafood chowder heating up. ;-) -- Cass

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Thanks to Michael for hosting Foodie Friday at Designs By Gollum,

and to Marie of Emma Calls Me Mama for her Heirloom Party

Ladies, you rock. :-)

Please click on the links above, or near the beginning of the post,
to join these parties and read what others are posting about!

P.S. It was hard for me to choose which Heirloom to feature today; I am very lucky to have many family things. If you are new to That Old House and are curious about some of our hand-me-down furniture, you can visit this post from July 7, 2009.

P.P.S. Illustrated Note to Self: When cooking on a stove, it helps to turn on the burner that is actually underneath the pot. It takes too long otherwise . . . .

Yes, I really did that. Doh!