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I’m not sure when my dad started building the oven. He talked about it quite a bit without explaining what it would look like or even why he wanted one. I definitely wasn’t interested in masonry as it was probably 1959 or 1960 and rattle snakes and the green jeep were my adventures.
In the forest next to our water tank was an old car frame that had been converted into a trailer with four high sides and painted green. This would be our improvised truck to bring building materials for the Dutch Oven. Off we went towing this four-wheel trailer to Pope Valley, up to Angwin and down to Saint Helena for building materials. A 1955 baby blue Cadillac towed the trailer that had to be built in the 1930’s and carried all my dad would need for the project.
The material list for the project was cement, mortar, fireclay bricks (flat and tapered bricks for the arch), clay chimney pipe and gravel, plus some new masonry tools. The return trip was slow, as the car worked hard pulling and slowing the trailer, which had no brakes. All went well until we left the Butts Canyon Road (which was still a gravel road at that time) and headed up the last three miles to Shang. The car couldn’t handle the steep inclines, and we walked up to get the jeep. The trailer weighted much more that the jeep, so we hooked a chain from the jeep to the Cadillac front bumper and doubled our effort. “Kinsey’s hill” was the worst spot. I drove the jeep and pulled with all tires spinning and the Caddy was doing the same. Dust and flying gravel went everywhere as we made it up the hill. It was a glorious adventure at 13 or 14.
My dad pretty much built the entire oven by himself. He never discussed its design, and it slowly grew into what it is. The door came from a weld shop in Oakland. The family gathered stones for the oven exterior. On top of the completed fireclay arch he put heavy concrete reinforcing wire and fiberglass with native stone covering.
One day, while my dad was working on the oven, I saw a large rattlesnake by the back-gate wall swallowing a rat. I made a snake catcher by running wire down ½” pipe and tied it to the end forming a loop to tighten on the snake’s head. We I got the wire half on his head and the rattling began, I backed off out of fearful respect and the snake, and it spit out the rat and disappeared into the wall; all the while, my dad just kept laying bricks.
Some oven memories are smelling baked bread all around the house, and large meals at the round table cooked in the oven with enough stored heat to makes bacon and eggs in the morning. Pete Sorensen made the first oven fire that was way too hot for the fresh mortar. Years later, my friend Jack White and I cooked a 180 lb. pig overnight for a party and the oven cooked the pig perfectly.
My dad was skillful in masonry, resourceful, pragmatic and hard working - all the things needed to accomplish this large project. The oven provided many memorable meals for family and friends who enjoyed the food and love from home cooked meals made in the huge Duch Oven.
When I look at it today, it seems to be a monument to him and his vision and time at Shang.
My mother was the tireless hostess and “fireman” stoking the oven with ranch grown meals, all work for her family and friends.
by Peter C. Madsen
In the forest next to our water tank was an old car frame that had been converted into a trailer with four high sides and painted green. This would be our improvised truck to bring building materials for the Dutch Oven. Off we went towing this four-wheel trailer to Pope Valley, up to Angwin and down to Saint Helena for building materials. A 1955 baby blue Cadillac towed the trailer that had to be built in the 1930’s and carried all my dad would need for the project.
The material list for the project was cement, mortar, fireclay bricks (flat and tapered bricks for the arch), clay chimney pipe and gravel, plus some new masonry tools. The return trip was slow, as the car worked hard pulling and slowing the trailer, which had no brakes. All went well until we left the Butts Canyon Road (which was still a gravel road at that time) and headed up the last three miles to Shang. The car couldn’t handle the steep inclines, and we walked up to get the jeep. The trailer weighted much more that the jeep, so we hooked a chain from the jeep to the Cadillac front bumper and doubled our effort. “Kinsey’s hill” was the worst spot. I drove the jeep and pulled with all tires spinning and the Caddy was doing the same. Dust and flying gravel went everywhere as we made it up the hill. It was a glorious adventure at 13 or 14.
My dad pretty much built the entire oven by himself. He never discussed its design, and it slowly grew into what it is. The door came from a weld shop in Oakland. The family gathered stones for the oven exterior. On top of the completed fireclay arch he put heavy concrete reinforcing wire and fiberglass with native stone covering.
One day, while my dad was working on the oven, I saw a large rattlesnake by the back-gate wall swallowing a rat. I made a snake catcher by running wire down ½” pipe and tied it to the end forming a loop to tighten on the snake’s head. We I got the wire half on his head and the rattling began, I backed off out of fearful respect and the snake, and it spit out the rat and disappeared into the wall; all the while, my dad just kept laying bricks.
Some oven memories are smelling baked bread all around the house, and large meals at the round table cooked in the oven with enough stored heat to makes bacon and eggs in the morning. Pete Sorensen made the first oven fire that was way too hot for the fresh mortar. Years later, my friend Jack White and I cooked a 180 lb. pig overnight for a party and the oven cooked the pig perfectly.
My dad was skillful in masonry, resourceful, pragmatic and hard working - all the things needed to accomplish this large project. The oven provided many memorable meals for family and friends who enjoyed the food and love from home cooked meals made in the huge Duch Oven.
When I look at it today, it seems to be a monument to him and his vision and time at Shang.
My mother was the tireless hostess and “fireman” stoking the oven with ranch grown meals, all work for her family and friends.
by Peter C. Madsen
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