When I think about my mom, I think of the kitchen. With five kids in my family, she was almost always there… making breakfast, making lunch, making dinner. Starting over the next day.
My mom is a skilled cook, coaxing excellent flavors out of inexpensive cuts of meat and canned veggies. While I can’t say that she loved to cook in the way that I do, I too would have wearied of making 3 meals a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year—for more than 70 years.
I think cooking was simply something you had to do, not something that provided pleasure or was an outlet for creativity. She was also cooking during the heyday of the convenience food revolution, so Velveeta, Tang, Spam, Chef Boyardee pizza mix, La Choy chow mein, and Hamburger Helper were often in the rotation in our house.
Where mom really shown in the kitchen was when she made dessert, always from scratch. Brown bananas turned into luscious banana cupcakes topped with chocolate frosting, inspiring these banana-chocolate-chunk muffins. Christmas wasn’t Christmas without German anise cookies. Easter had to feature a bunny cake.
It was her pies that were truly outstanding, and teaching me how to make pie crust is a gift I will always appreciate. I didn’t know that people were intimidated by pie crust, or that pie crust was considered difficult, because I started making pies with mom when I was 11. It was a simple crust recipe out of the Betty Crocker Cookbook… vegetable oil, milk, and flour. Stir with a fork, “it should be streaky,” then roll out between sheets of waxed paper.
I have made countless pies over the years, impressing the heck out of people who think that pie crust is beyond their ability. I have almost never tasted pie crust that I like, because I have always compared it to mom’s. And I was easily able to adapt her pie crust recipe to be gluten-free, and continue to make pies a few times a year. When I do, stirring the oil and milk into the flour, I am transported back to her kitchen and we are rolling out the dough together. No matter that I now use soy milk and gluten-free flour, the memory is the same.
My favorite was her cherry pie. One Thanksgiving in Connecticut we all sat down to dessert, stomachs bulging from an immense turkey dinner. Everyone took a big bite of her cherry pie, and instantly we all puckered up, shocked to discover that Mom had somehow forgotten to add the sugar. Not wanting to let a great pie go to waste, we grabbed the sugar bowl, carefully peeled back the top crust, sprinkled liberally, and happily ate our pie.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!
Today’s post is part of our mission to help you rebuild your health through food and lifestyle choices. Look for posts on Mondays featuring gluten-free, sugar-free recipes made with healthy plant-based ingredients, Tuesday reviews, Wednesday essays, Thursday how-to’s, and Friday giveaways (when available).
Your discussion of your mom’s lack of love for cooking reminds me of an article I read recently that addresses just this–the drudgery of cooking day in, day out, with less than ideal ingredients and the way that “instant food” saved many of these women. Despite being directed at Michael Pollan, I found the point of view to be interesting. http://www.salon.com/2013/04/28/is_michael_pollan_a_sexist_pig/
Thanks Jenn, I hadn’t seen that article and the author touches on some excellent points, summed up neatly by this sentence: “It’s easy to forget, in the face of today’s foodie culture, that cooking is not fun when it’s mandatory.” I heartily agree!
My mother wasn’t much of a cook, but my grandmother was. My mother is convinced the cooking gene skipped a generation!
Sharon, I don’t know if there is a cooking gene, but it’s nice to have a fond memory of your grandmother’s cooking.
This is such a great thing to do with mom – cooking. I STILL don’t know how to make a decent pie crust!
Ellen, happy to give you a lesson any time!
How sweet! You two are so stylish eating lunch on the park bench. And cherry pie is a personal favorite of mine, too!
Thanks Laura. Mom really looked great in this photo. Apparently I had a closet full of these little smocked dresses.
I have my grandmothers handwritten recipes. She was a baker. Every year for my mom’s birthday, I lovingly bring out those handwritten treasures and bake her a cake. I love that connection. I love that you have that connection with your mom too.
Connie, what a wonderful tribute! I love that idea.