Seven years old. School over. Summertime. I was taking off on a DC9 for the very first time. The beginning of a relished ritual. Like clockwork, proceeding summer after summer.
She lived in Arkansas, I, Texas. She was my grandmother, my mother’s mother and she lived across the pond from her sister. Her name was Amy, polite friends called her Miss Amy. Her sister answered to Gertie, Southern slang for Gertrude, so I was told. When I think back, my opening memory is always of mammoth magnolia trees, two of them. out on a front lawn. The scent of the big white blossoms often lingered in the humid night air. Then this: The round pond, the two homes, the neighborhood, all, carved into a dense pine forest; homes, gardens, yards, forest, in that order. Red bricks, side by side lying on 45° angles, lined garden beds. Monkey grass too. Prickly, red berried holly bushes, manicured boxwood & free-form juniper, not the least bit arranged, but mulched with pine needles & corralled by the red brick border.These are just the tip of my iceberg of memories.
Indoors, aromas of food and the relaxed unhurried tedium of cooking. Food stuff arrived from the store in boxes. Imagine that! We sat and shelled beans and peas, peeled potatoes and carrots. Collards & cornmeal & grits were menu staples, as were string beans, cooked cabbage, sometimes Brussel sprouts. For breakfast, oatmeal always. On weekends, the yolk from eggs, sunny side up, rivered near crisp bacon and pooled in the warm cheese grits. Special days included pancakes stacked 3 high, amply buttered, maple syrup drenched. A tall, cold glass of milk or a small fresh squeezed orange juice. Yes, indeed. Life was good.
Dinner time? Fried chicken so crispy, and the garlic mashed potatoes! I’d pat down the center and lay in a slab of butter, throw in the fresh peas and as the butter melted I announced it my “bird’s nest.” Catfish was popular, with flat beans cooked in onions and bacon fat. Okra, dipped in egg, coated in cornmeal, and yes, pan fried. There were biscuits with gravy, cornbread and cornmeal hush puppies. We’d pull them open, add butter & strawberry jam. Offhand, I’m not remembering dessert. I’ll think on it and get back to you. I do remember this though. After watching a little television, she’d tuck me into bed and always left me with the same one remark: Make good dreams.
WE HAVE: Dreamy Limon Kiss melons & golden honeydews. There’s okra, flat beans— fresh garden peas too. Harry’s Berries are still with us, along with all the other berries, jumbo blueberries included. Stone fruit: Cherries, peaches, plums, apricot and nectarines— all excellent. Hummingbird tomatoes are at their peak. Curbside or inside, we aim to show you what we have learned of Southern hospitality.
I’m remembering the desserts. Crumbled strawberry shortcake, lemon meringue & key lime pie. Banana cream pie made with ‘nilla wafers. Peach cobbler & vanilla ice cream. Triangles of watermelon or fruit salad.