AFTERNOON TEA WITH JODY B., Wednesday, November 20, 2013: Maybe its because the holidays are coming up. I really dont know, but I keep thinking more and more of my mother, and how much I miss her. Ive posted on here before that my mother is very much alive to me, and in one way she is, but its not like saying, Hey, Mom, lets go have a cup of coffee with Mary? Theres that veil of difference that causes a little sliver of grief. I used to call her up and ask her how to cook something. Now, I have to watch Chew. Last night, though, for supper, I found myself making fried potatoes. I havent made fried potatoes in years, folks, high cholesterol, and all that jazz, but I made them last night, and the whole time I was making them, in my minds eye, I was really looking at that cast iron skillet full of potato slices my mother used to fill with the precision of a master chef, and smelling that homey kitchen we used to come home from school to. Last night we had scrambled eggs with ours. Hunter complained, Those things make me puke, haha. He doesnt like diced onions in scrambled eggs. Mike doesnt particularly either, but he didnt complain. I told Hunter, These scrambled eggs are in honor of my mother, who always fixed scrambled eggs with diced onions in them. You can put some ketchup on them. He did. I dont necessarily recall her fixing fried potatoes and scrambled eggs for the same meal, but the guys voted to save the maple flavored sausage for breakfast with biscuits and easy over eggs, so I agreed, and then I was at a loss for my protein with supper so thats how I wound up whipping up a batch of scrambled eggs. My kitchen did smell like home. I find, when Im thinking of her, that I see her when she was young and vital, between 30 and 40 years old, full of spice and vinegar, and she was. Over the years, Ive heard my dad refer to my mom with a random variety of nicknames, Lucy, Helena, the Old Lady, and the Hellion. She could be all those faces and many more. The Hellion was usually reserved specifically for those times when her and Dad were having a fight, and I wasnt very often the recipient of that facet of her personality, but on a couple of occasions I was. Lets just say, I preferred to be on her good side, which was usually loving, generous, even magnanimous. If my mother was alive today, she might be peeling apples for an apple pie, or making a batch of homemade egg noodles to dry and set aside in the freezer until next Thursday. She might be hulling walnuts, or attempting a pumpkin pie from scratch. Me, I love Libbys pumpkin in a can, but my mother, sometimes she just wanted to do it all herself. She loved to collect candy recipes, and made some pretty remarkable sweets. She never thought her homemade candy turned out exactly the way that she wanted it to, but usually it did, and if it didnt, wed just dig in with a spoon and ate it anyway. Nobody ever complained. Ill never live up to her homemade egg noodles, although, occasionally I do try to make them. Mine are always too thick. Dad finally learned to make them according to Moms very precise specifications though. If Im lucky hes planning to whip up a batch for next Thursday. My boys simply dont think its the Thanksgiving holiday without a simmering kettle of Moms homemade egg noodles, and I guess I dont really either. Love you, Mom.
Posted on: Wed, 20 Nov 2013 19:30:31 +0000
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