Kitchen Smells and other Memories

 My Mother was a good cook. I could eat my weight in her roast, carrots, potatoes and gravy. Her Swiss steak with red gravy was outstanding and let me assure you, she could flat-out pie-bake!!
I did not always cheer my Mother's menus, however. When she prepared pigs' feet or liver and onions, I could gag. Later in life, I did develop a taste for the liver dish only to be told by my doctor that liver was not a good healthy choice.  It was during those gag meals that I became fascinated with my Father's eating habits. He would gnaw on the limited amount of meat on pigtails / pigs' feet as if  it was Memphis-style barbecue baby back ribs. My Father ate any thing and every thing that my Mother put on a plate in front of the man and he appeared to like it all! Never once did I hear my Father complain about a meal. As I observed my Dad's appreciation for any foods, I realized that this was a man who had been hungry a-time-or-two in his life. Perhaps hunger was part of his youth and I am guessing that once or twice in his two-year World War II military stint, my Dad's stomach growled and ached for a home-cooked meal.

Back in our early married years, my wife would occasionally ask if her cooking measured up to Mother's meals. I assured her and others that my wife is an excellent cook, in fact she surpasses Mother with some dishes.  However, she never could produce a baked pie like Mother Lucille. When my Mother moved into independent and assisted living quarters for her final nine years, my wife would often take my Mother home-cooked dishes from Decatur-to-Edwardsville; a two-hour trip because she knew how much her mother-in law loved certain meals. Let's be honest, institutional cooking, at best, is institutional cooking.

I must cut this message short. I am headed to the grocery store; my wife wants ingredients to make chicken and 'homemade' dumplings. I have never told my wife that maternal grandmother, Mammy Bennett made the best dumplings and I do not intend to ever broach that subject!

My Father has been gone nearly nineteen years and Mother Lucille passed just two months ago; sure wish I was watching Dad eat a piece of Mom's coconut cream pie...oh, those precious memories, how they linger! I had a personal realization during a conversation last evening with my son. We talked for several minutes and before hanging up, he said, "Dad, I want to ask a serious question, how are you doing since Mamaw's (my Mother's) death?" I spoke honestly saying, "Not good; all those years since my Father's passing, I telephoned my Mother (every day) believing that I was filling a bit of a void for her and making her feel good with conversation. Come to find out, it was I who was the benefactor and I miss those conversations terribly!" At some moment each day, I feel that  some thing is left undone; soon I realize why I have that barren emptiness feeling.