I love to eat! I eat to love! Love! Eat!

Let’s talk food. I mean, who doesn’t like that subject? I could talk about food all day long, not repeat myself, and still not run out of things to say! Speaking of food, let’s talk about mom. No, not YOUR mom, MY mom! Remember, this is about me!

Any time I eat a meal that consists of lots of gravy, fried stuff, round steak or mashed potatoes, it reminds me of my mom’s home cooking which I miss so much. Mom was farm raised and that’s how she cooked for our family growing up. I have four brothers, so my mom cooked by the gallons, bushels, 5 pound bags of potatoes…. You get the idea. She didn’t mess around with small quantities. When the mashed potatoes and chipped beef with gravy came around, you better get what you wanted the first time around ‘cause it may not make it for round two!

As a family, we always sat around the table.  No couch eating for us. The TV was turned off and the dog even joined us, but over by the door because Tinker Bell wasn’t allowed to beg at our feet. Dad always prayed before every meal. Mom and Dad lived during the depression, so they came from a time of being grateful for everything you had and this was ingrained in them. One doesn’t forget times like that and ways of life that come from it. Nothing was taken for granted and you recycled anything you could. Not because it was good for the environment, but rather because money was tight and rations were limited. That aluminum foil still has some use in it. Look! It’s not even dirty yet. It can go from being wrapped around a baked potato to covering your leftover bowl in the fridge the next day to being wrapped around your sandwich the next time around. We had a drawer of aluminum foil squares ready to be used again.

Dessert was served after every dinner and it was home made. Of course! That woman could cook, and she could do it well! Mom made pies, cookies, cakes, breads, rolls and tapioca pudding. Among our favorites were chocolate marlow, apple dumplings, carrot cookies, date-nut cookies and chocolate sheet cake. My favorite thing ever was apple pie with brown sugar topping. Hmmmm, maybe it was the oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. Oh yeah, forgot about the chocolate marlow ice cream. YUM-EEE! My mom made a pie crust that was to die for, and she knew it! It was her mom’s recipe, so that made it ok for her to brag about it. The only difference was her mom used real cream, hand churned, in her pies. Mom has often told the story of the first time she cooked a pie for dad, and he left the crust on his plate. She looked at dad, and said, “Aren’t you going to eat that?!” He said, “I don’t like pie crust.” “Well you will like mine, so you better try it!” Well, he tried it alright. Now there isn’t a crumb left on anyone’s plate, including his, when mom bakes pies. I guess she showed him!

I have many of mom’s recipes that are my favorites copied down in my hand writing. When she goes, bless her heart, that’s the thing I want most…. Her recipes in their original format. I even know what most recipes look like… if they are in her writing, what they are written on, or if they are a cut out from a magazine. Those recipes hold a lifetime of memories. Family. The many smells of food baking. The comfort and nourishment of her food. Family! (Did I say that already?)  My mom’s nurturing through cooking. Her worry of us kids if we skipped a meal. How proud she was of her cooking! How much Dad appreciated how good every single thing tasted that she made. How proud he was to have her as a wife. He always told her after every meal, “Polly, that was delicious!”

Mom had me start cooking in the kitchen when I was about 9. My life, just like my mom’s life, has revolved around food and cooking. As a little girl, walking through the door home from school to the smell of chocolate chip cookies baking was a regular thing. I was so excited, because warm cookies are always best. Nothing like a hard day of studies to build an appetite! Mom used to make us pancakes and home made waffles with heated syrup for breakfast. My friends couldn’t believe she heated the syrup and that her waffles were home made. Waiting on your turn at a waffle was hard! We had huge family gatherings at holidays over the years. As the boys got older, dated and married, it became common for the leaves in the table to stay in it for days. It was nothing to have 16 or 20 people around our table on Sunday.

Mom always was so giving and baked for other families who lost a loved one or had someone who was ill. There were church potlucks, family reunions. I remember disliking potlucks. I was with Dad on that one… no one could cook like mom and a potluck meant I not only had to share HER cooking with other people, but I had to eat THEIR food too. Yuck! Ok, sometimes it was good. But, no one could cook like mom.

Now that she has gotten older… well into her eighties and soon to be 90, mom doesn’t cook like she used to. They eat out a lot. Also, when she does cook, she has gotten very forgetful and it isn’t quite the same at times. One time, for a birthday, she made her famous Waldorf cake that is red and has about 4 layers with icing between each layer. It’s a family favorite, for sure! My sister-in-law Sondra and I are diving in, cutting off a big piece… Take a bite…. Take another bite…. Slowly chew… I look at her. She looks at me. We both have a funny look on our face. Then, we are trying not to laugh as we don’t want to hurt mom’s feelings. The cake was AWFUL!!! It tasted like lard or something! Finally, I put the fork down. I can’t do it. Sondra is now laughing and so am I. Mom looks at us, takes a bite herself, and determines she forgot the sugar! We sprinkled sugar on, but it didn’t work. It needed to be whipped in, I guess! What a waste of good cake and effort that was!

I will always cherish my mom’s cooking. Not because it was so tasty and wonderful. Not because it nourished us kids, filled our bellies and sent us out the door with a skip in our step. Not because she amazingly cooked for a family of seven on our tight budget. Not because she insisted we eat 3 square home cooked meals a day. Not because she loved to cook. Not because she taught me how to cook by me cooking by her side from an early age on.  Not because she insisted on feeding all my friends the minute they walked in the door. Not because she always had sweets on hand that were home made. Not because I was able to take delicious sack lunches to school hand packed by mom.

I will always cherish my mom’s cooking because she baked with love. She spread love out to everyone she met and knew through her cooking. Her food tasted amazing because of her love that went into it. I learned about love via mom’s cooking. Love went around our family dinner table with laughter and food and it was because of mom. Those who were ill and ate mom’s food, I’m sure were better because of it. I still remember hot tea and toast when I was sick. And hot water to ease my tummy aches. Yes, mom was full of love and expressed it through her food. I grew and developed into an adult because of that food I ate every day for the first 18 years of my life. It’s in my bones, my joints, my blood, my muscles and my entire being. Through her cooking, Mom taught me how to love. For that, I will always be grateful. And filled to the brim with love!