I know… I didn’t remember them taking that long either. But that’s what her recipe said. I do remember they were very thick and she used a beef broth that was to die for!
I didn't get to read your story until today, Susan. Your great grandma looks like what I would call little but mighty. How sweet it is that you have such good memories of her.
She was mighty! She was of Irish and Scottish descent. I remember she kept a bottle of whiskey in her stocking drawer. 😂. I asked my grandmother Nellie about it (I was like 5 or 6 years old) and she said That’s her cough medicine. 🤣🤣 so I call it that now too. 😂
I love it, Susan! Doug's mother's side of his family was from West Virginia. He told me that his great grandma used snuff. Another farm gal she started at 13 and called it her toothpaste.
One more Nancy story came to mind. Doug's grandma Helen who was one of Nancy's daughters was bringing her home. They were in WV and stopped at a biker bar (Helen liked her beer). One of the men approached the table and addressed Nancy. " Ma'am you remind me of my grandma would you like to dance?" Doug isn't sure if she accepted or if Helen danced with him. He said it was too long ago to remember.
Omg. My grandma made chicken soup nearly every Sunday when we went out to their farm. If not chicken, rarely beef noodle. And there was never meat in the soup. That came in the next course with the vegetables. She made her own noodles too. My job was to gently shake the noodles and drop them in the boiling broth. If I didn't do it right, she'd let me know! She made the best fried chicken, but we were lucky to have it because she only made it in the spring/summer when the chickens were young. My Croatian grandparents straight from the old country.
What a great memory... grandmothers really knew how to cook. I guess it's because they had to! I remember my grandmother plucking her chickens after she wrung their necks. It's a wonder I wasn't traumatized! 😂😂
What a wonderful piece. You're a woman of many talents. Three half eggshells of water. 😄😄I love the recipe and the kerchief in the frame. I'm just getting ready to head home. You have triggered my appetite. (I have a choice of some good leftovers in my refrigerator) Gloria wrote you a beautiful poem. (She's amazing!) I can't wait to enjoy your cooking.😃😘
Gloria made me CRY! Amazing is right! I decided to skip the gym today, write, make soup and I just popped a beer. I'm feeling some better now. Seriously, Charlie... the country is in such trouble. I barely slept last night. Anyway, enjoy those leftovers!
Oh, I will. (I get to pick between meatloaf and mashed potatoes, lasagne, and Johnny Marzetti) I also have half a joint rolled for dessert.😄😎 We'll be alright.
I cant tell you how much it means to me that you wrote this poem. In between chopping onions and stirring soup, Ive read it a dozen times. You are awesome, Gloria. 😘
No. I haven’t. I have dyslexia, so the way I see, hear, and soak up words is a bit different from the usual. When I read, words bounce around in my head, creating their own kind of poetry.
My mother baked all day every day in our home kitchen. In those days, it was legal to sell baked goods from your home. She left mountains of dishes to be washed, so when my sister and I got home from school, that was our job. I still hate washing dishes. As a result, I don’t bake or cook much anymore.
There are times, however, when I crave a certain dish, so I do cook occasionally. I agree that it tastes better when you cook it yourself.
I'm so glad to hear that, Janet, because I couldn't sleep last night after the SCOTUS news. I should have gone to the gym today, but I was too numb. So I started writing and making a huge pot of ham and bean soup. I'm practicing what I preach! 😂
30 minutes to cook noodles, I don't think that is what my grandma did!
I have pics of me next to Granma, making noodles. Me on a stool with my smaller bowl... good memories!
I know… I didn’t remember them taking that long either. But that’s what her recipe said. I do remember they were very thick and she used a beef broth that was to die for!
I just made fresh pasta...I still recovering from the rolling pin! I need new technology! Preferably, electric.
I didn't get to read your story until today, Susan. Your great grandma looks like what I would call little but mighty. How sweet it is that you have such good memories of her.
She was mighty! She was of Irish and Scottish descent. I remember she kept a bottle of whiskey in her stocking drawer. 😂. I asked my grandmother Nellie about it (I was like 5 or 6 years old) and she said That’s her cough medicine. 🤣🤣 so I call it that now too. 😂
I love it, Susan! Doug's mother's side of his family was from West Virginia. He told me that his great grandma used snuff. Another farm gal she started at 13 and called it her toothpaste.
HAHA!! Thats hilarious! Mae lived till 93, so I guess maybe her cough syrup was good for her. 🤣🤣
Nancy made it to 98. When she was in a nursing home, she told one of the staff "Let's go into town and get us a man."
Atta girl, Nancy! I love that! 😂😂😂
One more Nancy story came to mind. Doug's grandma Helen who was one of Nancy's daughters was bringing her home. They were in WV and stopped at a biker bar (Helen liked her beer). One of the men approached the table and addressed Nancy. " Ma'am you remind me of my grandma would you like to dance?" Doug isn't sure if she accepted or if Helen danced with him. He said it was too long ago to remember.
Omg. My grandma made chicken soup nearly every Sunday when we went out to their farm. If not chicken, rarely beef noodle. And there was never meat in the soup. That came in the next course with the vegetables. She made her own noodles too. My job was to gently shake the noodles and drop them in the boiling broth. If I didn't do it right, she'd let me know! She made the best fried chicken, but we were lucky to have it because she only made it in the spring/summer when the chickens were young. My Croatian grandparents straight from the old country.
What a great memory... grandmothers really knew how to cook. I guess it's because they had to! I remember my grandmother plucking her chickens after she wrung their necks. It's a wonder I wasn't traumatized! 😂😂
What a wonderful piece. You're a woman of many talents. Three half eggshells of water. 😄😄I love the recipe and the kerchief in the frame. I'm just getting ready to head home. You have triggered my appetite. (I have a choice of some good leftovers in my refrigerator) Gloria wrote you a beautiful poem. (She's amazing!) I can't wait to enjoy your cooking.😃😘
Gloria made me CRY! Amazing is right! I decided to skip the gym today, write, make soup and I just popped a beer. I'm feeling some better now. Seriously, Charlie... the country is in such trouble. I barely slept last night. Anyway, enjoy those leftovers!
Oh, I will. (I get to pick between meatloaf and mashed potatoes, lasagne, and Johnny Marzetti) I also have half a joint rolled for dessert.😄😎 We'll be alright.
I'm about to head to the laundromat.🥴 Gotta do it! But it's all good. Lasagna when I get home.😃😃
Oh! I needed this story today. Cooking was the same in our house and it was always sprinkled with love.
This is for you -
In the heart of a kitchen, where time softly dwells,
Stood a child on a chair, amidst floury spells.
An apron too large, a canvas snow-white,
Wrapped 'round a dreamer in morning's first light.
"Break the egg gently," the whispered command,
Three halves of shell water, by a tender hand.
Flour danced in the air, a delicate snow,
On a journey from bowl to board below.
A rolling pin, seasoned by years and by hands,
Rolled out the dough, in humble demands.
A task so grand, in eyes wide and bright,
A five-year-old's pride, in the kitchen's soft light.
Oh, the magic of meals from the earth to the plate,
A truth known too well, in discussions of fate.
The farm's simple creed, in sustenance found,
In the soil, in the seed, in the boundless ground.
Lunch tables groaned under midday's feast,
For those who worked, for the very least.
Funerals saw dishes, in sorrow's embrace,
And dances, pies under stars interlaced.
Holidays summoned abundance to share,
Extra tables, extra love, in the cool evening air.
So much food, a testament to care,
In Mae's realm, a legacy rare.
Not a kitchen of glamour, but of warmth, of life,
Where love was stirred in amidst joy and strife.
Aprons donned, dishes washed, in a dance so fine,
Canned goods lined in the cellar, like treasures in a mine.
In this domain, Mae stood firm, a guide so grand,
With the precision of a leader, of a loving hand.
A kingdom of flavors, of memories made,
In the heart of the home, where light never fades.
A reflection on times, on lessons so true,
Of the joy in creating, in sharing anew.
A tapestry woven from meals, from love,
In the kitchen, under the heavens above.
Another wonderful poem from the Substack poet laureate. Thank you.😃😘
Thanks, Charlie!
You're welcome.😘
OMG! I have tears in my eyes, Gloria. This is very very special and I am beyond grateful.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
You brought tears to my eyes. You were writing about my big, loving Southern family. I could see all of them through your words.
❤️
Your poetry brought me back to my Nano’s kitchen! I can smell, hear, taste, and feel it! There’s nothing like a family preparing food together!🫶🏼
There was always something cooking at my mother’s house. Always.
I cant tell you how much it means to me that you wrote this poem. In between chopping onions and stirring soup, Ive read it a dozen times. You are awesome, Gloria. 😘
I live to write poems and your story grabbed my heart. We are kindred spirits.
No. I haven’t. I have dyslexia, so the way I see, hear, and soak up words is a bit different from the usual. When I read, words bounce around in my head, creating their own kind of poetry.
🙏
My mother baked all day every day in our home kitchen. In those days, it was legal to sell baked goods from your home. She left mountains of dishes to be washed, so when my sister and I got home from school, that was our job. I still hate washing dishes. As a result, I don’t bake or cook much anymore.
There are times, however, when I crave a certain dish, so I do cook occasionally. I agree that it tastes better when you cook it yourself.
Ahhhh the dishes...always too many! 😂 I understand!
I'm so glad to hear that, Janet, because I couldn't sleep last night after the SCOTUS news. I should have gone to the gym today, but I was too numb. So I started writing and making a huge pot of ham and bean soup. I'm practicing what I preach! 😂
That's serious comfort food.
Protect your heart and soul, friend. I get it. UGH!