The Kitchen Table

Most of this post is a re-post of an earlier post but K is still for kitchen at our house so...


The kitchen has always been a gathering place for my family for as long as I can remember. The women in our family have probably spent over half of their lives in their kitchens and I am no different. I spent countless hours conversing with my grandmother as she prepared meal after meal- three meals/day seven days/week and while she baked cakes and breads from scratch. I also enjoyed listening to her sing while she worked in the kitchen. Our family ate all of our meals at the kitchen table and, if someone had football practice or a meeting, we waited for them to get home and we ate together. Meals at the table with everyone around are the only kind I have ever known (and not just during the holidays) so it is no surprise that I would continue this tradition with my own kids. Certainly, our kitchen table saw thousands of meals over the years. Sometimes we were even a bit creative with our meals- candlelight dinners; no manners night; dessert first night; etc. However, saying our table only satisfied family time during meals would diminish the importance and quality of the times our family shared while sitting there together.  

   

Our kitchen table provided space for creating school projects; gingerbread houses; Christmas cookies; Easter eggs; colorful artwork. The lovelies also studied and read books there. Many a game of telephone has been played at the table as well as hundreds of hours of playing board games, card games, and putting together jigsaw puzzles. The laughter still resounds if you listen carefully. This table has seen more than anyone’s fair share of girl talk, both serious and silly- the sharing of the deepest secrets and fears that young girls harbor as well as the silly thoughts and stories of a day in the life. Our kitchen table has witnessed the tears and anger brought on by disagreements as well as the tears, hugs, understanding, and smiles the resolutions brought.  It heard the intense discussions of the injustices of the world and the ways to make changes. It heard me telling my girls they could be anything in the world they wanted to be. The table has been the meeting place for friends both young and old as each of their friends sat and discussed their lives with me as well. How amazing it was to know their friends almost as well as I knew my own girls. They all knew that there was no judge or jury at the table, only listening and an attempt to understand.  

 The kitchen table is still a meeting place for my girls and myself and it remains our center when everyone comes home as it stirs past memories, and encourages the sharing of present goals and future dreams. And those games and all that laughter? Yep, it still takes place right at the kitchen table. 

The biggest, and best, difference is now I get to share our kitchen table with my grandbabies. How wonderful as small as our house is there is always room at the kitchen table especially for these two--

Yes, she's in the high chair because she recently
rediscovered it and she loves it and I have no idea
as to why other than, she's a two-year-old.

I'm already having tea at the table with this one. 

Sometimes we bake brownies and have them with milk in moose cups. 

K is for kitchen table. 

AND---

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Does Slow and Steady Win the Race?

Steady. The word makes me think solid, stable, safe. But it also makes me think regular, routine, boring. I suppose it depends on what you pair it with. For example, if I pair the word steady with things like a secure home, a dependable provider (whether it's me or someone else), an available partner, a full bank account, good health, and the like then I think solid, safe, stable, etc. However, if I pair steady with things such as chores, daily grind, meal prep, laundry, work, any obligatory act that has to be done daily or weekly I think more regular, routine, dull, boring, get-it-over-with.

But then I look at how those things are connected- being a dependable provider means working every day and having good health requires the right foods and a regular routine of some form of exercise. Why is it the dull, boring things make the stable, safe things possible? It's all in our perspective.

If we want safe, stable, and solid we're going to have to work for it and that's that. So, how do we do this with a more positive attitude? I thought about this and I recall a few things my grandmother did as she moved through her days in a positive way.

1. Sing. Yep, or hum, or put some music on. No matter what I'm doing music makes it better even if I already love the activity. My grandmother was always humming and singing as she made her way through her daily chores. She always sang hymns, all of which are still my favorites. 
2. Change the way you think about what you're doing and take your time doing it. Grandmother never dreaded doing the dishes or dusting the furniture because she thought of it more as being grateful to have dishes to wash and furniture to dust. My granddaddy owned the local dry cleaners and every Tuesday was the day he took their linens and such down to be laundered. Grandmother did not dread Tuesdays. She was grateful not to have to wash them herself. Grandmother never rushed through a task to get it over with. She took her time and did it right. 
3. Save your favorite things for later. Grandmother always got the chores completed first and saved going out and meetings (Garden Club and Circle) or watching her 'stories' for the afternoon. Maybe that's why it was so easy for her to sing her way through the chores. 
4. Don't wait for someone else to help you, just do what needs to be done. And don't judge them for not stepping in and helping. Grandmother did what needed to be done without the expectation that anyone else would either help her or do it for her. When I was there, I did help her and she appreciated it but never expected it. 
5. Don't waste your time on futile exploits. Everything had a purpose with Grandmother or it was a waste of time. Even sitting and visiting with a friend meant something important to her. 
6. Take that annual vacation. We all went to the beach for a week's vacation every summer. We stayed at the same beach house and had the most wonderful time every year. On the weekends, we might just ride up to the mountains for the day or a weekend. Regardless, Grandmother and Granddaddy took the time to get away and relax and they took us with them.
7. Pamper yourself. Grandmother's idea of pampering herself was having her hair done weekly. It was the one thing she did for herself and it made her feel good. They also went out to eat every Saturday night to the fish camp and took us with them. Such simple little things but they made such a difference.
8. Don't concern yourself with material things. Grandmother did not concern herself with material things but she did take care of what she had. Not that she didn't appreciate or have nice things but she would have been fine without them. Material possessions were not even close to her focus. She did take great care of what she had. Such care that they never had to replace anything until it was worn out.  
9. Take nothing for granted. Grandmother took nothing for granted. She appreciated everything she had, took care of her home and her family, and took time to spend with others. 
10. Reach out to others. Grandmother always took the time to lift up others and encourage them but she took no crap from anyone. She stuck up for herself but she'd stick up for you, too. She also stood up for what was right. She'd give you anything you needed without expectation of return and she'd always tell you how valuable you were as a person. No need to wonder when you were around Grandmother. 

Ok, my time ran out waaaaay back there somewhere before I started the list. Oops. I had no idea where the word, steady was going to take. Now, I do. Ha! 

This post is linked to Five Minute Friday where we write for five minutes about the prompt without stopping.

The prompt this week is STEADY.

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Summertime Stringing

Of the beans. I've been getting string beans (green beans) in my CSA box lately and quickly realized that stringing beans is another one of those memory joggers. And, not nearly as much fun as it was when I helped my grandmother with this summer chore.

We had relatives who were mill workers AND farmers when I was growing up. Every summer, my grandmother and I and my brothers when they came to join our family, spent weeks 'putting up' fresh off the farm vegetables for the winter.

We put up corn and green beans and peas (of all sorts) and tomatoes and pickles (cucumbers) and water melon rind pickles (so good!). And then there were the preserves- strawberry, peach, fig. And the fruit- peaches, strawberries, blueberries, blackberries.

Our early summers were filled with canning/freezing these summer delights that we enjoyed year 'round thanks to Grandmother.

We would shuck bushel upon bushel upon bushel upon bushel of corn and Grandmother would scrape the kernels off the cobs. Her glasses and kitchen windows would be covered in corn spittle. It was hilarious! She put up the best corn I've ever eaten in my life to this very day. No matter what veggie or fruit she was working on, Grandmother took care and stayed with it until the job was completed to perfection. All the while humming her favorite hymns.

I don't put up bushels of anything around here. I've tried, but it's just not the same. I probably didn't pay enough attention to Grandmother's techniques or maybe I just don't have what it takes to take this on each summer.

Then there's the fact that the fruit and veggies that are made available to us these days taste nothing like the fruits and veggies Grandmother had access to. She chose all her produce from farmers who did not use pesticides. Most of them still didn't back then. We could eat all those goods canned with love by her hands without fear of the food making us sick over time.

Nowadays, we have to join a CSA and not all of them are certified organic. And, the ones that say they are, might be lying through their teeth. Even if they are telling the truth, who's to say that the very dirt they grow their veggies in isn't full of some sort of chemical death from neighboring farms or from pollution brought to the ground via rain or some other way that is known or unknown to the growers and to us?

I'm afraid that we are getting to that point in time where we have no escape from chemicals in our food and our water and our air. There is simply nowhere to run.

We didn't know how good we had it back in those days. Back when a good bit of our summer days were spent shucking and stringing and shelling and even picking. We could eat anything we picked right off the vine if we wanted to without downing more chemical pesticide than fruit.

A good many of our summer days were spent in laughter and love and learning from the company and wisdom of Grandmother while up to our waists in fresh, pesticide free produce.

Do y'all put up veggies? 

Kitchen

My grandmother was an artist in the kitchen. When she was creating a work of art, whether is was as simple as breakfast or as elaborate as her fresh, organic, six layer coconut cakes, she donned her smock (an old, worn out, plaid shirt of Granddaddy's on which you could see her darning stitches if you looked closely enough) and an old pair of cotton ankle pants the color of the summer sky and set about her work.

The white flour would end up everywhere. It would be all over her clothes, in her hair and on her face. Her red speckled counter-tops were covered in patches where bits of her paints- the ingredients for her creation- had dripped off the spatula or out of the often neglected measuring cup. Not even the floor was spared from her creative mess.

Every single time, Grandmother's creations turned out perfectly. To the eye, they were beautiful; the smell made your mouth water; and the taste was a pure delight to our tongues and fulfilling not only to our bellies but to our souls.

I sorely miss all those times spent with Grandmother in her kitchen. She sang and chatted away every step of the way. I remember those special times and her words. But, somehow, the magic she worked in her kitchen evaded me. Or did it?

While I might not be near the artist she was in the kitchen, I did receive understanding of the importance of the kitchen. A place for sharing words of wisdom. A place for singing. A place for telling secrets. A place for spending invaluable time with those we love. A place that continues to do these things and more in our kitchen.


FYI: My 'L' post will be late. It's wedding weekend so y'all probably won't see it until Sunday. Sorry in advance!

I'm linking this post to the eleventh post of the April, A-Z Challenge!

Just click the badge below to visit other participants. 

Ok, let's see what y'all came up with for the letter 'K'!

Girdles

Did your mothers and grandmothers wear one? Mine did.

I remember watching my grandmother do the girdle dance (stuffing and shoving things here and there and jumping up and down and bending, stretching, contorting every which way trying to get everything she could into that thing) every time in preparation for going out of the house. No need to go through all that if you were staying inside or working in the flower beds. But even going to the country to pick up fresh produce by the bushel warranted a dance with the girdle.

They call them Spanx now. Or Shapewear. Or Body Shapers. Or Body Slimmers. Or Slimpressions. Sheesh.

I've never worn a girdle by any name. Even though I have been curious as to how much help they would be with this body, I truly prefer breathing.

But what I believe about girdles- old and new- is that they really only smooth out women who are already slim. Those who have about an inch or two of flab. It smooths them out so that no one can see their tiny little, insignificant too-small-to-be-called rolls. I honestly have never seen them do one thing for those of us who have serious flab.

Can you imagine having to use the bathroom while out somewhere in one of those things? Trying to pull it back up in a tiny bathroom stall bumping into the sides and the door? Maybe falling back onto the toilet and not being able to pull yourself back up because you only got the stupid thing halfway up and it's confining your leg movement? No thank you. 

My advice is to start your fitness plan right now if those little bits of flab bother you because, if you don't, they're going to get bigger and bigger and that girdle isn't going to help you at all.

BTW men, big business makes them for y'all too. I think they're sold under the guise of back support bands. 

I'm linking this post to the seventh post of the April, A-Z Challenge!

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Ok, let's see what y'all came up with for the letter 'G'!

Recipes and Memories

Can go hand in hand. Did y'all know that?

For example, whenever I make chicken pot pie or chicken and dumplings or a cake or homemade bread/biscuits, I remember my grandmother- my mother's mother. It's certain that I do not come anywhere near the quality of her making/baking, but the memories that come with the preparation of these (and a few other) recipes almost make up for their lacking in that area. The times spent in the kitchen with my grandmother have always been some of my most favorite memories.

Then there are the times when I (used to) make Rice-A-Roni (the San Francisco treat...haha) or sautee mushrooms and the memory of the first time I had those with Aunt Betty. I had never heard of Rice-A-Roni (Mother made everything from scratch just like Grandmother did) and I said that I didn't like mushrooms. Aunt Betty was always the one who tried to get me to try something I'd never had before just to see if I liked it. I've been eating mushrooms ever since. It also reminds me of the first time Deanie made Rice-A-Roni years ago...it was crunchy. Ha! None of us have used Rice-A-Roni in so many years that I don't even know if they make it anymore, but what fond memories I have because of it.

Every time I burn something or a dish turns out badly, I am reminded of the husband's mother. She was a writer; a poet; a walk-the-walk Christian; a lover of the arts and PBS and Christmas. She was not a cook. But she did it anyway- regardless of the end product's taste, looks or appeal. 

My attempts at homemade lemon cake and Christmas eggnog brings back memories of my dad's mother. She, too, made everything from scratch. Her lemon cake was to die for. I remember her eggnog at Christmas. It wasn't the kind that we kids could partake of, but the adults used to crack us up arguing over whether or not there was enough alcohol in it. Not usually won out. Though most of my memories of GrandMoore center around reading, creating, and playing games, anything lemony and with rum will take me right back.

Making the homemade goodies at Christmas- fudge, cheese and olive balls, sausage balls, etc.- bring back memories of my mother making these wonders every single year. Our table would be filled with every kind of Christmas delight you could possibly think of and I loved walking around and around that table taking one of everything over and over again. I make these same treats every year and revel in the memories of Christmases past.

Saturday morning breakfasts of French toast or scrambled eggs with cheese or grilling out take me back to my dad being in the kitchen or grilling. He loves to cook to this day but, when I was growing up, he mostly did it on Saturday mornings and/or evenings. And I loved it when he cooked. I know he had a special recipe for the French toast but I can never get a straight answer from him. I mean, it's a straight answer, it's just never the same answer. His cheese eggs I can make, they just don't taste as good. And nobody grills as good as my dad. Although my brother does get close.

There are so many memories that center around food in our family. But I believe that most of the fondness comes from the preparation time instead of the actual food itself- although the food was always incredible. It was the time spent with some of the most special people in my life. People who made a difference. People who taught me how to appreciate the value of conversation and taking time to do things the right way. People who taught me to value, appreciate and take pride in a job well done. People who showed me the inner strength, compassion, independence and unconditional love of the women in the family (yep, even my dad who was taught the very same thing by his dad). People who taught me the value of a family. The love of a family. The never-ending support of a family.

Teachable moments were never missed in my family.

Where do your recipes take you?

Here We Come A Baking

I love baking during the holiday season. And I come by it honestly. My grandmother was the absolute, hands down, without a doubt BEST BAKER IN THE WORLD. Everything she made was from scratch and I loved spending time with her in the kitchen any time she was baking any of her many deliciously delectable delights.

She made homemade biscuits every single day of her life. Biscuits that she learned how to make from my great grandmother. They were TO DIE FOR. And I'm not exaggerating. And she made cakes throughout the year for people. As well as her yeast rolls. But, during the holidays, the baking was taken to a whole new level.

At Thanksgiving, she served up a feast of turkey, cornbread dressing, sweet potato casserole, green beans, corn, mashed potatoes, rice, gravy, homemade yeast rolls, broccoli casserole, cranberry sauce, and homemade pies and cakes. How in the world I was a thin youngster I will never know.

At Christmas the dining room table was filled with homemade cakes with no less than 4 to 6 layers- coconut, pineapple, chocolate. The house would fill up with the sweetest, warmest baking aromas and there was always just enough left in the bowl for licking. There were cookies, fudge, and other candies- all homemade. A ham with cloves, pineapple slices and cherries all over the surface covered with a sweet honey and mustard glaze sliced to perfection.

It's no wonder that I enjoy baking so much. There are so many wonderful memories associated with every part of holiday baking. And so, every year, I look forward to this season of my favorite holidays and all the baking that I do. Most of the recipes are the old, reliable ones of my childhood. I do try a few new ones every couple of years, but they're rarely good enough to win a spot on our holiday table.

The lovelies look forward to the holiday baking as well. They started helping out as soon as they were old enough to stand on a chair to reach the kitchen counter. Now, as each one comes home for the holidays, they pitch in with the baking. As a matter of fact, they insist that I save some things for them to do instead of having it all done for them when they arrive.

We have such fun during this time. Our dining area was the place for many things throughout the years besides family meals- creating school projects, studying, reading, playing telephone, board games, card games, jigsaw puzzles, girl talk, heated discussions, words of encouragement, silly-girl-giggly-tales with friends...and sisters.

But the best times of all were, and continue to be, the cherished moments baking those holiday goodies. When we come together and catch each other up on what's going on in our lives since everyone got so grown up so quickly. No matter that we talk daily, it's still better up close and in person. And no one ever minds hearing it again. And again. Because it's the holiday season. There's baking to be done. Memories to recall. Stories to tell.

And, best of all, we're all here. Together.

Veggie Burgers and Grandmothers

Both of my grandmothers were incredible cooks. Absolutely incredible. Some of my most cherished memories are those spent with these amazing cooks in their kitchens while they prepared delightfully delectable dishes. There was never a time at either house that we left feeling less than completely satisfied and loved.

Not a single one of us can duplicate even the simplest of their sinfully delicious kitchen creations. And we have tried. Multiple times. Countless times. It simply cannot be done. And there is a very good reason for our failure. Neither of these accomplished cooks used such trite kitchen tools as measuring cups.

My mother once asked my grandmother how to make the pudding part of her banana pudding. Here it is:

Amount of sugar you think it needs

Add milk ‘till it tastes right

Add flour ‘till its thick enough

Start with 2 egg yolks; add more if needed

You can put vanilla in it but you don’t have to

 

This is all leading up to the explanation of why I can only give out the ingredients I used for those VEGGIE BURGERS I made this week. It's not that I don't want y'all to have it. It's that I cook just like my grandmothers did. I rarely, if ever, measure. I change most recipes that I do follow- adding or changing or taking out ingredients here and there. If I were to attend cooking school, I'm certain they would kick me out after one day.

That being said, here are the ingredients I used for the veggie burgers.

shredded carrots
shredded zucchini
a handful or two of mixed baby greens
chopped onion
1 can Garbanzo beans (chick peas)
oats (some I ground up in the food processor to a floury consistency, some I kept whole) [Next time I will use coconut flour and whole oats]
egg whites
various seasonings (this one is easy though- just add what your family likes)

I will mention that, once I had it all mixed up, I thought it was a tiny bit wet so I added some more oats. Next time, I will leave those extra oats out. I think they would have been even better had the mixture remained wet- but dry enough to stay together in a patty.

Then I simply baked them in the oven on 400 degrees. Don't remember how long but I did turn them over so they could brown a bit on both sides.

Sorry y'all. BUT here's some good news! For those of you who asked for the Zucchini Lasagna recipe, I can lead you to the one I used as a guideline:  my Zucchini Lasagna is based on Debbi's here. She also has a recipe for Tomato Zucchini Bisque that really is to die for! I follow the bisque recipe almost to the letter. It's so amazing!

As a matter of fact, Debbi has an entire index of recipes that she has modified for lower calories and calculated the nutritional value for her readers. I am using quite a number of her recipes as a guideline for the Slimmer this Summer Challenge! Check her out! 

AND maybe, if we're lucky, Patrice at Everyday Ruralty will share her Ratatouille recipe with us! She's a professional chef you know! (And mom to four daughters, wife of a farmer, friend extraordinaire, owner of Wendell the wonder horse...).