Oatmeal, Food Memories, and Grandparents

Recently, one morning at work, I was eating a rather boring cup of "diet" oatmeal, and we got into a short discussion on the different ways people fix their oatmeal. Our graduate assistant says her problem with oatmeal is that she only likes it with lots of sugar and butter. Another coworker said she also likes hers with butter, and I found myself telling the story I see in my mind's eye of my grandfather (maternal) sitting down to his bowl of home-cooked oatmeal (I've never had any as good as my grandmother's since she passed away many years ago - she said the trick was the salt).

Granddaddy would take a bowl about 2/3 full of oatmeal, sprinkle white sugar over it (I prefered brown), then take an entire piece of buttered toast and tear it into crouton sized pieces and spread that over the oatmeal. Next, he took the cream pitcher (really just milk) and poured milk over the oatmeal, sugar and toast until the milk nearly spilled over the edge of the bowl. You had to make sure you got your milk before he did, or you'd have to get up and go back to the 'fridge for more. By the time he ate it, it looked kindof like cream of oatmeal soup with lumpy croutons in it.

This memory is as fresh in my mind as what I wore to work yesterday - actually, I'm not really sure what I wore to work yesterday, so I guess it is fresher.

I've been mulling this over and thinking about how many strong memories we have that are tied to food and meals and frankly, the kitchen or dining room table. As strong as the memory of my maternal granddaddy and his oatmeal (and his milkshakes, and hand-rolled cigarettes - tobacco by the way) are my memories of my paternal grandfather fixing a breakfast tray to take to my granny in bed. He brewed coffee in an old-fashioned percolator, even after coffee makers hit the scene. For the record, my mom always said his coffee was more like battery acid than a beverage. I don't guess I ever tasted it, but I remember it being so dark you couldn't see the bottom of the spoon. He would scramble eggs and fix toast. He actually did quite a bit of cooking. My favorite was the mornings he would take day old (or more) doughnuts and put them on a cookie sheet and put them in the oven until they were hot and the sugar was all melted and bubbly. I remember that taste, and along with it the memory of him fixing them to this day.

My grandmothers come into this too. A few weeks ago my mom and I were talking about her mother's homemade caramel icing and I told her (Mom) I can still see Grandmomma standing in her kitchen cooking that icing. After it began to boil, she would drop a few hot drops from a spoon into a coffee cup of cold water (a specific rose pattern china by the way) and would kindof stir that dab of caramel around with her finger nail. If it crumbled or scattered in the water, we boiled awhile longer, until it formed what she called "soft ball" stage, then we stopped cooking and cooled it just long enough so it would spread on the cake without running off the sides onto the plate. My dad's mom would cook the best gumbo I've ever had..., plus I remember sitting in the kitchen more times than I can count while she and a lady who cooked for her made the best sugar cookies you ever ate. I actually managed to get this recipe, but have never been able to make the cookies as well as they did.

Now, these are all really nice memories for me. In addition, I have tons of memories of my family growing up as we worked in the kitchen, or sat around the table at dinner. What bothers me is that I'm afraid in this new fast food, fast paced world we live in, we will lose these moments to make such strong memories.

Coffee Mugs and other collectibles

Many of us have a series of things that we collect through life. I'm not a big collector, but I have a few things I like to gather. Just to confirm, a big collector is someone like Big Guy (my little brother) who collects shot glasses and has hundreds of them. He used to have comic books too, but may not anymore...I'm not sure. I do know that at one point he had enough that he could use their assessed value as capital toward a loan.

I don't so much collect as I have a few recurring favorite themes. Sometime back, I realized that my Christmas tree had more Angels and Bears than other ornaments. Not long after Hubby and I met, I must have told him about this (we did meet near Christmas time) and I am now the proud owner of at least two (I think 3) bears with angel's wings. While Christmas ornaments are the majority, I also have these two characters in non-Christmas items as well. Sitting here at my desk at work (on my lunch hour by the way), I can see at least two bears and two Angels decorating my office. There is also a hummingbird, which is another of my favorite figurine types, though I've never seen a hummingbird Christmas ornament.

But anyway, to get back to the main topic, the other thing that I collect a bit is coffee mugs. I have six in my glass case here in my office (one has an angel on it) and probably another 15-20 at home not counting the ones that are part of dish sets. I have them from several places I've visited over the years, and a few funny ones that were gifts. The two funniest are "Where's the d*$^ Fairy Godmother when you need her", and the "Make yourself at home...do the dishes" each sporting a rather frazzled looking housewife.

My two favorites however, are my Nescafe cup and my Ben & Jerrys mug. Remember the old commercial with the guy on the big sailboat who comes out on deck with his crystal clear coffee cup with the map of the world etched on the outside? He's drinking Nescafe by the way, as it was a Nescafe commercial. I loved that commercial, and I wanted one of those cups like crazy. My mom found one somehow and bought it for me decades ago. It no longer has the map imprint on it, just clear glass to the casual observer (but I still see the map every time I drink from it). This is my Saturday morning coffee cup. I usually get up earlier than Hubby and fix a small pot of coffee and relax with my favorite mug and a good book. My second favorite is a royal blue clear/translucent Ben & Jerry's mug that the Big Guy and Mrs. Guy bought for me at the Ben & Jerry's plant (I think) a few years ago. It is a larger mug than the Nescafe, and reserved for days when I'm going to only have one cup, but want it to be a good one.

I have a couple of other "favorites" that I use pretty often, but you can bet that everytime the dishwasher is run, those two will be in there getting ready for their next use (I've even been known to wash one or both by hand in an emergency).

Back Again

Well, the past few months have been wild and wooly. I've spent most of my life healthy as a horse. Besides a busted chin at five (jungle gym at church), busted hand at fifteen (night skiing in North Carolina), I've spent the majority of my life away from the emergency room. One brief day surgery on a bum knee in my twenties, and except for a brief stay at birth, I hadn't spent a night in the hospital in over 4 decades.

In August, I had the misfortune of being the shortest, smallest person in a group around a handful of jittery horses. Rumor has it the biggest one bit the smallest one (lucky for me he was little as horses go), and the "little" horse in his effort to get away from the bully chose the path of least resistance - meaning through me. Since while small, I'm still solid, he couldn't actually get through me and instead had to go over me. Luckily for me, the only place he actually stepped on was my ankle, lucky again at the thickest, strongest spot. Off to the Emergency room we go. No major breaks, one tiny hairline, but still off my game for a couple of months.

Less than a week before I was due to "graduate" from the orthopedist, my elbow got red and ugly and looked like it had swallowed a golf ball on the day after Thanksgiving. Another trip to the emergency room to be diagnosed with cellulitis and given massive oral antibiotics. Unfortunately, they didn't seem to do the trick and by Monday morning, the redness had spread to wrist and above the elbow and my GP decided it was time for IV antibiotics, and a visit from the orthopedist. I half-heartedly tried to convince him that I had an appointment with Dr. Bones the next day, but he said I had to see him right away - that he would send him to the hospital...which is where he sent me. Surgery the next day to drain the elbow, then four more days of IV antibiotics.

Finally, as we enter 2007, I'm mostly well again and ready to get back on my game. The ankle is strong and mostly doesn't hurt, the elbow gets better every day, and I'm looking forward to staying well for awhile.