Comfort Begins at Your Dining Room Table

Although the weather man says we may have to deal with a few more ninety degree days, we’re all starting to look forward to grabbing a light jacket on the way out the door. Football games will be much more fun when we’re wrapping up in a blanket instead of fending off tropical storms.

The changing seasons will affect our eating habits, too. Instead of craving a slice of watermelon or a tall glass of lemonade, we can’t wait to set a pot of chili to simmer, and wrap our hands around a warm mug of hot chocolate. Ah, the comforts of autumn.

For me, certain foods prompt a flood of memories. We all have dishes that trigger thoughts of childhood, or happy times shared with friends. These so-called comfort foods have much less to do with their ingredients than with the familiarity, the easy association with our past, no matter where or when we eat them.

Now that I don’t have to rush off to join the daily caravan to the big city each day, I’m cooking breakfast for my favorite room-mate a little more often. For many weeks, I have cooked his requested memory inducing dish: eggs in a basket. I’ve experimented with different types of bread, and finally settled on sourdough. I use a drinking glass to carve the all-important hole in the middle of each slice. After browning the bread on one side in the skillet, I then pour in the egg before turning the whole ball of wax and continuing cooking to the desired “over-well” order. Unfortunately, he has informed me that this doesn’t quite measure up to the daily breakfast his Mom used to make before he headed off to school. This probably has to do with the type of skillet she used (seasoned iron) and the type and amount of grease (most likely a health dollop of bacon grease). The important thing- I give it my best shot.

My own comfort food is very specific. For as long as I can remember, we’ve had a one-dish meal on the table that I call simply macaroni and cheese casserole. Now that I’m cooking it myself, I find that it is most satisfying when I don’t stray far from the traditional ingredients: ground beef, big fat pasta noodles, longhorn cheese, whole stewed tomatoes and one hidden bay leaf. Recently, my uncle recalled that he’d always called this dish Spanish Delight. I will agree on the delightful part, but since it’s seasoned with marjoram and oregano, I’m not sure how Spanish it is. To use the vernacular of my southern friends, “We love him anyway, bless his heart.”

Traditional foods vary by the region one hails from. Our neighbors to the southwest may crave tamales, or something else wrapped in a tortilla. On the east coast, oysters or crab may figure in. During a recent trip to Cincinnati, we learned that they have a traditional type of sausage usually eaten for breakfast, called Goetta. This mixture of beef and pork was invented by German settlers who stretched their meat supply by incorporating pinhead oats. Interestingly, the taste for this delicacy has not stretched very far beyond the home of the Reds and the Bengals. I guess, for those who have moved away, it’s a good excuse to visit home now and then.

After all, it’s more about the picture in our head when we eat our favorite foods. I remember pancakes with carefully constructed smiling faces on them. Mom accomplished this trick with her own special artistry, sometimes adding remarkable details like eyelashes. My twist on this echoes an activity we learned on trips to Disneyworld: finding hidden Mickey Mouse faces. For my grandkids, the important thing is that Granny will keep the pancakes coming as long as they continue to eat them. A great way to start the day, not matter what the weather.

With some of our favorite holidays coming up, we’ll all do well to remember that traditions don’t require a lot of fuss. Smiles around the table with simple, traditional dishes make for happy and lasting good times. In the words of our friend Juila Child, “Bon Appétit!”

 

 

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

I stood in front of a massive bed with a canopy and rich velvety draperies. The mattress was so high off the floor that you’d need steps to climb into it. I wondered if I could actually get away with spending the night in a museum, like the kids in one of my favorite books, The Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. My mom and sister moved on, so I reluctantly followed. After touring the rest of the Kansas City museum, we spread a blanket in a nearby park and enjoyed a picnic with sandwiches brought all the way from home.

No, dear readers, this didn’t happen in the summer of 2012. It’s one of my best memories from the gallery of vacations past. It’s interesting to think about why certain memories stick with us, and what it says about our personality. As you can see from this one, I enjoy history, have an active imagination and I’m an avid reader. Food is obviously very important in my life.

My husband shared that his favorite vacation memories involve spending time with his three male cousins on their farm in Eastern Texas. He also has great stories about the trips to and from in his dad’s pickup. I’m guessing he liked this because he grew up with a sister in his house and two female cousins who lived next door. The trips to Texas allowed some rough and tumble boy stuff. Great times.

My three children shared their vacations until they married, but different things stand out in their minds.

The oldest son remembers a trip to St. Louis where we stayed in a hotel close enough to walk to and from the Cardinals game. To this day, he loves blending in with the locals, instead of looking like a tourist wherever he goes

The middle son recalls a trip to Nashville where everything was included in the package we purchased, and we followed a schedule for bus tours to the local sites. He still enjoys the “canned trips”, and enjoyed his first cruise with his wife.

Our daughter remembers seeing most of the sights from the back seat of our car, always in the middle between her older brothers. Her current love of country music was fostered by the serenades her daddy and I provided as we sang along with our classic country cassettes.

What memories will our grands retain from the annual Granny Camps? The oldest continues to talk about a trip to the submarine docked in Downtown Little Rock, and now builds all manner of ships with his Legos blocks. However, this year, all four enjoyed sitting at my kitchen table with markers and paper, and balsa-wood models and glue. Do you think this will spark even more creativity in the Carlisle cousins?

 As a follow-up to last month’s column, an eight year old friend of ours will remember this summer as the one he spent at Arkansas Children’s Hospital getting a new heart.  As we’re writing this, he’s living at Ronald McDonald house, waiting for the go-ahead to head home. His mom says she never knew she would be so grateful to see pink fingernails and chubby cheeks. Of course, we realize that another family somewhere will look back on this time with great sorrow, but we applaud their courageous decision, and hope that the two families will meet someday to encourage each other in person.

The end of the summer drought has arrived, and we now look forward to county fairs, caramel apples and chrysanthemums. Though at times we doubted it, we have survived. At my house, I’ve been enjoying the life of a retiree. My alarm clock is growing dusty from lack of use. I get up a full hour and a half later than I did last spring. I have the option to cook breakfast at home, or relax at a local restaurant. Shopping means taking my time, checking out all of the choices, no rush, no fuss. I’ve actually stayed caught up on my laundry, kept an appointment with the dentist for the first time in years, and visited with dear friends- in the daytime on a weekday. This summer will be memorable as the first one without a Monday-Friday job. Changes may be on the horizon again, but Oh, what a summer vacation it has been.