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Excerpts from Abe Peña's  popular publications

All material used with the kind permission of the author, given to me personally.

from CHANGE COMES TO THE VILLAGES

"El Bote De Diez

“Cuanto chile quiere? How much chile do you want?” cried el chilero approaching the door.
“Un bote de diez, a ten-pound tin,” answered doña Maria from inside the house.

The ten-pound tin pail, el bote de diez, was the most useful container in our village of San Mateo and other villages in northern New Mexico.

In reality, el bote de diez when full of lard weighed only eight pounds, not ten. It was marked eight in the blue can of Morrell Packing Company, the red can of Swift Packing Company, and the gold can of Armour Packing Company.

The brightly painted cans were very attractive. We could usually tell the age of the can by the amount of paint that had scratched or faded off, or how bent the handle was. Sometimes in play we threw the pail full of water at each other. When the can started leaking after a lot of wear, we used them as drums or containers for pot plants.

Albert Michael, our neighbor, pretended he was the memorable Gene Krupa and played the drums with a flair. We had a band. Bennie, my older brother, played the washboard and, much later, the trumpet in the high school band. The washboard we “borrowed” from our mother when she wasn't looking. He also played the flute, which was made from a twisted half-inch pipe. Very little went to the dump in our village. Everything was used and reused, including el bote de diez.

We carried water from the village ditch to our homes in botes de diez. Sometimes it took us several trips to fill all the barrels at home. To carry water, you did not use the lid. A can in each hand gave us a total of sixteen pounds. A bote de diez was approximately a gallon. When we got older and stronger, we carried a two-gallon bote de veinte in each hand.

El bote de veinte was not as readily available as el bote de diez. A twenty-pound can of lard cost almost twice as much as a ten-pound can, and, during the Great Depression, not too many could afford them... there was very little cash.

The bote de veinte was good for storing lard after a pig-killing. We usually punched a small hole on the lid to let the air escape when the hot lard was cooling down. If the lard was stored at room temperature, it lasted about a year before it turned rancid. Home-rendered pork lard was preferred in the village over the commercial lard that came in the can from the store.

There was also el bote de cinco, the five-pound can. The bote de cinco was very useful when carrying food to a neighbor. I recall at pig-killings we distributed the food in the smaller cans. It was also used to take milk to the school teachers who came to the village from elsewhere and did not have a milk cow.

It was important to dry the can completely, or it rusted. The tin lasted a long time if you dried it well. It tended to rust more on the seams, where it was harder to dry. The handle was pretty sturdy, but sometimes it took a beating, and bent.

El bote de diez was the ideal size to milk a cow. It fit nicely between one's knees, and gave it the right angle to catch the streams of milk. Sometimes the cow kicked, especially if she had sores on her teats, and the milk and can would fly. The can would take a lot of punishment, but sometimes it dented and the handle flew off.

In the sheep camps, we buried beans in a bote de diez in a hole in the ground, next to the open fire, and covered the can with hot cinders to cook overnight. In the morning, they were a delight. Sometimes we put mutton bones with the beans, and they took a special flavor.

We also took el bote de diez on piñon-picking trips. It was the right size to keep moving on your knees. When full, it was not too heavy to carry and empty into the larger bote de veinte or a hundred-pound gunny sack to store and carry the piñons home.

Almost every family in the village had a garden and an orchard. El bote de diez came in handy to gather chile, string beans, peas, and other vegetables. Some orchards were larger than others, but practically everyone had an orchard. El bote de diez was the ideal container to climb the tree and pick apples, pears, apricots, plums, cherries, and peaches.

Sometimes we tied a rope to the handle of the can to hand it down to someone on the ground when the can got full. Viola says they used the bote de diez to pick grapes on her grandfather's farm near Bernalillo. In San Mateo, grapes didn't do very well.

The pears, peaches, plums, apricots, and cherries were either packed in jars or split and placed in the sun to dry as orejon. The apples were carefully put in gunny sacks or in cardboard boxes, if available, and stored for winter en la dispensa, storeroom.

We covered them up with sheep pelts to keep them from freezing. A bote de diez was kept nearby to carry apples to the house to eat in winter.

Generally, the longer they stored the sweeter they got. Sometimes apples lasted until Holy Week.

During the Second World War, el bote de diez, as well as its close relatives, went to war. The metal went into ships, tanks, guns, etc. Lard was packed in waxed cardboard boxes in four- and eight-pound containers. After the war, we became conscious of cholesterol and began to cook with vegetable oils packed in glass bottles and, later, in plastic bottles. El bote de diez faded into history.

Some time ago, I was in a museum and saw a bote de diez on exhibit. I stood very straight admiring and remembering the many uses we found for that precious tin can!"