Sunday Cooking - Grannie Style!

The Legend herself - My Grannie

Sundays meant 4 things to me growing up – church, Cowboys football, soccer, and Grannie’s.  (Not always in that order, but usually a combination of the above).  A typical Sunday consisted of going to church (Mom making me spit my gum out before the service –or during, if I was lucky enough to hide it for a while before she noticed…), returning home to do a quick change of clothes and grab my soccer gear before we were out the door to Grannie’s house.  Fortunately, I grew up just five minutes from Grannie & Da (my mom’s parents), so we were able to see them frequently – every Sunday, in fact.  We would meet the rest of the family at Grannie & Da’s for lunch.  After lunch, I would catch what I could of my beloved Dallas Cowboys in their weekly game, and head to soccer practice.  Every time I left for practice, I thought that would surely be the day that I exploded while running because I ate so much at lunch.  (Nevermind the fact that I’m allergic to running – seriously…another story, for another time) 

I don’t know if it was the goading from Grannie (“Have another roll, sweetie!”, or “You only had seconds…did you not like it?!”) or my inability to resist her delicious creations, but whenever I stepped foot into that house – every ounce of willpower I had faded with each whiff of the tantalizing aroma creeping from the kitchen.

If you wanted to find Grannie on a Sunday, it wasn’t hard – just check the kitchen.  Usually she was standing near the stove – desperately searching for the last bay leaf in the spaghetti sauce (because she was sure she put four in, but had only found 3) or adding another dash of salt to a sinfully rich batch of chicken & dumplin’s because “they just don’t taste right”.

 And, while Grannie certainly welcomed the company and/or help, you were not allowed in the kitchen if you didn’t understand the rules of the land:

(1) When you hear the words “HOT PAN”… get out of the way! (Some may attribute my quick feet and cat-like reflexes to a life of playing soccer, but I can tell you first hand – I learned that in Grannie’s kitchen .)  I can juke and dodge a boiling pan of pasta with Heisman-worthy flare.

(2) Pinch and dash are the only two measurements you need to know, and tasting is the only way to tell if something is ready.  Grannie doesn’t measure, she puts (that’s a direct quote).  Plain and simple.

(3) If you eat, you clean.  If you cook, you rest…enough said.  She cooked enough food to feed an army, and it was only fair that the “army” put in their time.  We even had ranks and duties – one aunt would wash, another would clear the table, another would create “care packages” with the leftovers, another would mop and sweep, and I was always the dish dryer – one step between the washer and before the putter-upper).

(4) ALWAYS save room for dessert.  If you don’t eat dessert, the family might think you’re sick…or worse, Grannie might think you don’t like her cooking…

Which brings me to Rule 5…

(5) NEVER leave food on your plate…if the good Lord is going to bless you with a plate of heaven, don’t you dare waste it!...Not in Grannie & Da’s house anyway!

(6) When fixing Grannie’s traditional salad, be sure to put 2 cans of black olives, or else there won’t be any left by mealtime thanks to the sticky fingers of all the cousins.

(7) Don’t forget the bread in the oven…(that happened at least once a month – again, my quick reflexes were sharpened as I ran for the oven in an attempt to salvage the smoldering lump of dinner rolls or freshly sliced French bread). Rule 7b - if you do forget the bread in the oven...blame someone else!  Pretty sure no one has ever claimed this mistake in all my 25 years -- it's always a mystery!

(8) If you don’t like the answer from your mama or one of the aunts, just ask Grannie – works every time!

(9) What Da says, goes…PERIOD.

(10) And last but not least…never wear white!  Spaghetti sauce splatters (and stains), salad dressing drips (and stains), the soup boils over (and stains), and if you’re lucky enough to manage to make it through the preparation and the meal without a stain – you’ll surely end up with something on your shirt during the cleaning process… so just don’t wear white, and don’t tempt fate!

Now, if you could adhere to those simple rules, then you were more than welcome at Grannie & Da’s on Sunday.  We occasionally entertained significant others, friends, distant family, and various others along with the immediate family on Sundays.  Everybody and anybody was welcome, and Grannie & Da were glad to have them. 

The company was great…but the food – Oh the food!  I’m telling y’all, this lady makes the best food this side of Heaven.  I kid you not – think of the greatest meal you’ve ever had…multiply that by 100…you might, almost, just maybe, partially understand the true measure of her cooking.  Grannie makes Paula Deen look like a five year old with an Easy-Bake oven, and she could cook circles around Emeril…BAM! 

It’s not the ingredients (I’ve seen her take a roast from Sam’s club and potatoes from the Kroger down the street and create a meal fit for the Royal Family). And, it’s not the utensils or the pots and pans (I’ve scraped burnt remnants from the same lasagna pan so many times I can tell you how many dents there are and which utensils are the best for scraping the burned remains out of each).  The only component left is the cook.  It’s got to be Grannie…she’ll disagree with that till she’s blue in the face.  But, I’m convinced, after many years by her side in the kitchen, that her love for her cooking and for her family is the secret.  One of the most beautiful and comforting experiences is watching my Grannie cook.  Anticipation of enjoying the end product, seeing her passion as she delicately tends to the food, and feeling the warmth of her wise and generous spirit – these have made for some of my greatest memories and lessons.

So, I’m not to “Grannie-status” yet with my own cooking.  In fact, I’m better at making a mess than a casserole.  And I’m much better at stirrin’ up trouble than a batch of homemade stew.  BUT, I’ve learned from one of the greatest teachers I know, and I'm not discouraged.  And today, as I wait for my soup to finish – one of Grannie’s recipes of course – I can’t help but remember all that she taught me…about cooking, about people, about love, and about life (and about making some messes).  She’s amazing.  Love you, Gran!  Hopefully one of these days I’ll be able to do it like she does – Grannie style!

Grannie & Da