by Frances McCarter
My Mother loved to
cook. She shared cakes with all her neighbors as I grew up. She wasn't
real out-going so this was her way of telling others' that she loved
them. She wouldn't let me in the kitchen because I was too slow to suit
her. But I did share clean-up duties with my older brother. She didn't
care how long that took, as long as it was right.
My favorite meal: Maybe
I should say memorable meal. It was our Sunday lunch. Always fried chicken,
green beans (cooked to mush), macaroni and cheese (from scratch) and
fresh biscuits. Sometimes she would make yeast rolls that she left to
rise behind the oil stove in the living room when we left for church.
They would be ready to pop in the oven when we arrived home.
Mother didn't like
anything from a can or box. She was raised when there wasn't anything
but scratch food. She would make a Cream Pie that was out of this world.
My favorite pie was Lemon Meringue with Eagle Brand Milk. And that is
also my adult children's favorite.
Mother was always very
strict. If she cooked we were expected to eat everything on our plate.
She didn't know until my brother and I were in our 40's that we would
feed our Pekinese under the table what we didn't like.
Or we would put the
food back into the serving bowls when she would leave us in the kitchen
to finish eating. She didn't think that was very funny, even then.
She was a Christian
woman who set a good example for everyone. I love her still and it brings
tears to my eyes when I think of going home and her not being there.
Yes, I am who I am because of my Mother.