Southern Cooking

“Name the best cook you know of.” My mother can cook literally anything and it will be amazing. This is how I have always grown up and I love my mother’s home cooking. She as well as another aunt of mine can put together a meal for a dozen people in a couple of hours and it will all melt in your mouth. While growing up my parents were not concerned with saturated fat, cholesterol, or the use of butter. As a young family we were all very active and didn’t tend to be overweight. My parents worked long hard hours on the farm and need all the nutrients they could get to stay energized while working.

Lunch at our house was a huge ordeal during the week. My father would come in with his boss and any other farm hands. We would all sit in our small kitchen around a small round table that was so filled with food that there was hardly any room for the plates to eat off of. No matter how much food my mother would make there was always a dessert for everyone after the meal was over. During this time everyone at the table would joke and make the experience have a strong since of family and friends.

On holidays, such as Thanksgiving, my immediate family would visit both my father’s and my mother’s sides of the family in one day. This was a positive aspect of living close to both sets of grandparents. We would usually begin at my fraternal grandparent’s home. This was a more intimate setting. My father is the youngest of three children and we would all be in my grandparents’ small trailer. While my mother, grandma, and two aunts made lunch the cousins and fathers all played touch football.

Courses that were served every Thanksgiving included turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, and 24 hour salad. When I see all of these same dishes at any one setting I always accustom them with holidays in my family. Growing up on a farm we had fresh vegetables often and they were continuously on our table. Having access to these foods made me very picky with vegetables I feel that they should always be clean and crisp when eating them. Soggy vegetables make me think that the vegetables are old and that they are unsuitable for eating.

My mother learned to cook from my great-grandmother. My great-grandmother was a woman who believed in southern cooking, the more butter the better. Cooking food slowly was a must and meat would be a great deal tenderer if allowed time to have steam go through it. When walking into my mother’s house while she is cooking is like walking into a restaurant. The smell of fresh corn on the cob, mashed potatoes with butter, and apple pie all radiate towards you when the door is opened. Your mouth will begin to salivate as soon as you walk into the kitchen. She even accounts for you coming in and snacking while she is cooking so she always fixes a little extra of some finger food while she is cooking to account for the amounts that will not be available after other members of the family are snacking.

When you leave the house she will always send leftovers home with me so that I have a “good home cooked meal” to eat at least once or twice that next week. To make our house feel like home my mother calls me while I am on my way to home have dinner ready at the exact point I walk in the door after driving. She does this every night for my father. Mom wants to ensure that the food is ready for him after a long day at work but not too cold from waiting on him. This is a major factor of me feeling like I have arrived home.