Mamaw never learned any advanced techniques. She never did a croquembouche. She never drank a latte. What she did was honest southern cooking and
she did that so darned well. I was
really lucky. She made her foods from
unprocessed ingredients and hardly ever did anything out of a box. The only thing I remember her ever doing out
of the box was Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.
That was a rare treat.
Mamaw was born near the Texas, Arkansas and Louisiana
meeting point, called Three States. I
think it lists Ravanna, Arkansas as her birthplace on the birth certificate I
have for her. She had 13 brothers and sisters
that made it to adulthood. He mother was
a tiny thing who outlived two husbands and taught my grandmother to cook on a
wood stove. Mamaw worked hard as a
child. She took care of the farm
animals, helped out around the farm, picked cotton and helped deliver it to
Jefferson for sale. She didn’t stop
working until old age finally caught her, at around age 95. Before that, I seldom saw her sitting still.
Back to her cooking!
I miss her very simple pinto beans.
She only used a few ingredients but somehow it was the best thing I ever
ate as a kid. Her hot water cornbread
was AMAZING. I can’t forget the crispy
texture and the goodness of it with her fresh cooked yellow squash. I will ALWAYS make my fried okra in her
style. The other stuff reminds me too
much of the bagged junk that SYSCO churns out and people rave about. Blech.
Mamaw always disdained fried food. I guess she was ahead of her time. We ate it very seldom. Generally it was fried chicken, which she had
cut up herself. I remember pulling the
wishbone with my Pawpaw. He always got
the breast. It was his favorite. I got the drumstick for a long time, till I
decided it was yucky. I don’t remember
when that was. We ate fresh food every
day. For most of my life, that was food
that we had grown, unless it was winter time and we had not put up enough for
us to have. In the early years, living
in that New Moon trailer, we couldn’t put up much. Once Mamaw and Pawpaw got their place near
Atlanta, Texas, we could do more. They
bought a huge upright freezer and Mamaw filled that thing up with the good food
that she and Pawpaw grew. I worked in
that garden more than I wanted to, but now I know that I actually loved
it. I wish I could do it again.
The way my grandmother cooked was simple. She didn’t like complex meals. In general, her dishes featured bell peppers
and onions cooked with something else.
Tomatoes mixed with those could be used to make spaghetti sauce or added
to ground beef and okra to make a filling “gumbo”. Mix up the onions and bell peppers with
chayote squash and you have a tasty treat, add tomatoes, even better. That simple combination has carried me to
places I never thought it would.
Mamaw never let me cook with her. She worried that I would cut a finger or burn
myself. I watched her though. I watched her skillfully handle a stovetop
full of pots and pans. I watched her
mount a huge effort for Thanksgiving and Christmas. She could make cornbread stuffing that would
put any chef to shame. We would fight
over it as the supply dwindled. She made
the most amazingly delicious sweet potatoes with just pumpkin pie spice, brown
sugar and some margarine. Not sure what
her ratios were to this day and I can’t make it the same. I can’t make any of it the same, no matter
how I try. I have not been able to crack
her simple code. Maybe it was just her
love for me and my love for her that seasoned everything so well.
In spite of the fact that I can’t match her dishes, I still
try. I also have branched out and tried
all kinds of cuisines and techniques that she would never thing of attempting
to cook, let alone eat. Be that as it
may, the things that I love to make the most and the things that go deepest to
my heart are those simple dishes she made so lovingly well with fresh, simple
ingredients and years of love for me and the rest of her family.
I miss you, Mamaw.
Happy Birthday.
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