“Grussmommy would come the night before and we’d all peel pears. Baskets of them,” one woman remembers. “Then the next morning Dauddy would bring Grussmommy over while those pears started cooking in our big copper kettle. We had a big wooden paddle to stir with, so the pears wouldn’t scorch. “When the pears got soft we put them through the fruit press.” That smoothed the sauce. “Then we poured it back into the copper kettle and added 100 pounds of sugar. The sauce just boiled for hours. Somebody had to stir it constantly or it would burn. When it had boiled down, Grussmommy would test it with a spoon to see if it had reached a jelly-like consistency.” It was the moment for a skilled judgment. If Grussmommy decided it was right, into the crocks it went. The line-up of crocks had all been warmed— quarts, two-quarts, and gallons. “After they were filled we took bread wrappers, cut them to fit the tops of the crocks, dipped the wrappers in water, then put them down on top of the butter. We didn’t have waxed paper then.” The butter was double sealed. “Next we took newspapers or brown paper and fit it down over the tops and outsides of the crocks. Then we cut rubber bands from inner tubes and tied them tightly around the paper. That pear butter would keep for a whole year. It didn’t get moldy and biting.” Here is a version more suitable for today’s schedule and living space.