Cookin' Up Memories

My mother was a good cook and let me say, she could flat-out pie bake! My wife is a very good cook and she also can knock it out of the park with desserts. The difference between my mother's menus and my wife's menus is the latter knows what I don't care to eat and does not prepare it. My mother never bothered to ask anybody if they liked certain foods. Mother was adventurous in her meal planning. She would try new dishes. I do most of our cooking these days and I also enjoy gambling on new menu attempts.

As a young boy I did not always care for some dishes mother put before the family. Here's a quick summary of a few plates that left me wanting. Pigs feet & pigstail. Beef brains & scrambled eggs. Liver & onions. Sausage & sauerkraut.  A funny thing happened on my journey, I developed a liking for sauerkraut and  liver & onions.

I recall watching my father clean his plate no matter what the dish item was that evening. I once asked him, while he was gnawing the meat off pig's feet, "How can you eat that stuff?" Without looking at me he said, "Boy, you've never been hungry!" The sincerity in his voice caused me not to press the issue.

Actually, I have been hungry. Not hungry in the way my father meant but I am hungry today for  mother's Swiss steak with red gravy and mashed potatoes topped off with a piece of her coconut cream pie. And since I'm 'wishing,' I'd like to return just one more time to a scene embedded in my mind. It's a rainy late afternoon...the year is 1949.  I'm a ten year old boy sitting on the screened back porch. I have my homemade spinner baseball game before me with a deck of baseball cards. My fantasy game is the  Cardinals versus the Brooklyn Dodger; names like Slaughter, Musial, Marion, Reese, Furillo and Campanell are called aloud as I announce my own play-by-play.

I can smell mom's dinner prep and hear the distant voice of Bing Crosby on the kitchen radio. Soon Dad will be home from Monsanto Chemical and all will be perfect...life is good.

 Gee, those were the days when I could sop up that red gravy with two pieces of bread and not give a-hoot-hell about the amount of carbohydrates.
(Touch)
That's What I Like