Cooking & Baking
Related: About this forumMeals that you associate with particular people, places or times?
I'd guess we all have one or two or a few and more.
One for me is Sunday dinner at my grandparents' house in TX hill country.
Fried chicken, German green beans, mashed potatoes, sweet corn, biscuits and gravy. Iced tea. Peach cobbler with whipped cream.
One or more of yours?
northoftheborder
(7,574 posts)At grandparents', where I was allowed to drink iced tea in Depression ware pink knob glasses, and learning from my grandfather to like butter on cake!
2theleft
(1,136 posts)cukes in vinegar, and sliced bread with butter...
This was a weekly dinner at my grandmothers - they had a boat on the bay and the fish was FRESH!
We also did blue crab steams about once a month - spread newspapers all over, cooked the crabs and then ate and ate and ate. Cannot see a blue crab without thinking about my paw-paw.
greatauntoftriplets
(175,749 posts)Served with oven-roasted potatoes and green beans with slivered almonds. We still have that dinner.
Then there was the birthday when I was quite young and my mother made cornish hens for 12 people. My birthday is in August and we had no air conditioning.
Kali
(55,019 posts)except mashed potatoes and brown gravy from the roast.
greatauntoftriplets
(175,749 posts)Mashed potatoes are for Christmas Day.
Kali
(55,019 posts)back when I had less sense and more energy we did a fancy seafood dinner on "eve" then life got hectic and I usually was doing Santa duty at the last minute all night so it changed to pizza.
these days I think about taking off to Mexico to avoid it all.
greatauntoftriplets
(175,749 posts)Always have and I hope that we always will.
Even though you still have some restrictions, I bet that you are delighted to be off the wound vac.
Kali
(55,019 posts)big ranch dinner (mid day) was cowboy steak, aka chicken fried, with mashed potatoes cream/milk gravy, some kind of vegetable like sliced tomatoes and cukes. peach or apricot pie. OMG I am hungry.
Nay
(12,051 posts)like to cook (I take after her that way!) but she almost liked baking.
NJCher
(35,730 posts)My grandparents lived on a ranch. We would go there on Sundays and Grandma would make a roast beef and a roast chicken. Never fish (not on a ranch!)
Her side dishes were always simple, but good: dishes like cucumber salad with sour cream, green beans, and oh, her mashed potatoes!
We would have sliced tomatoes--and sprinkle them with sugar!
The homemade bread was so light and fluffy and served, of course, with her homemade butter.
Dessert was always a homemade pie made with some kind of fruit from their garden: rhubarb/strawberry, cherry, peach. Sometimes there was homemade ice cream to go on top.
Then we would watch TV. I can remember watching Lassie and Mr. Ed. Grandpa, particularly, liked Mr. Ed. BTW, I had the best grandpa ever. He was tall, handsome, and you talk about a laid back, relaxed character? To this day he is my definition of "laid back." Nuthin' ever got to Grandpa.
There would be the long drive home, about 40", and we kids would all fall asleep in the car.
I loved those times. The amount of work, knowing what I now know, must have been staggering. And to have food without preservatives and as fresh as that is almost unheard of now.
Cher
fizzgig
(24,146 posts)that was our sunday dinner a lot growing up, a tradition that my dad carried from his childhood. we usually had it when we'd visit his parents, too.
i have a lot of food memories about my dad's folks. we'd visit them in ny every summer and most winters and visiting them meant food. dim sum with my grandfather. chicory coffee and a slice of entteman's cake with my grandmother. real pizza. delis.
cobbler and rum/bourbon balls make me think of my mother. so does smoked chicken and baked beans. i rebelled against salad for many years because it was always my job to prep everything. and, for some reason, i was not allowed to use a knife on the lettuce and had to tear it up.
thanksgiving and christmas were always the same as a kid. turkey, mashed with gravy, mandarin orange salad, green bean casserole, stuffing, cranberry sauce and rolls. thanksgiving is the same, minus the salad and converting the casserole to homemade. christmas dinner is now jewmas dinner. we usually have latkes and matzo ball soup, but last year we had chinese on christmas eve and ruebens on christmas day.
then, of course, there is my father's favorite meal. baked chicken with steamed taters and broccoli, a meal that always involves a disagreement over someone poaching skin off the chicken. yeah, i'll admit that it's usually me.
great thread!
cbayer
(146,218 posts)There is just nothing like it.
PADemD
(4,482 posts)Only in cool weather because the oven temperature and cooking time made the kitchen too hot.
On special occasions, saffron "nubbies" (Cornish rolls).
Home-made hand-dipped coconut and peanut butter Easter eggs.
Stuffed turkey (with Grandma's home-made stuffing), mashed potatoes with gravy, corn, cranberry sauce, and yellow squash pie at Thanksgiving.
Mother's cookies and pies.
Galileo126
(2,016 posts)No, not Grandpa - Grampa!
Our family lived in my Grampa's 2 story house, with us on the 2nd floor, back in the 60's. Every time I smelled the garlic sweating in olive oil, I knew Grampa was making a sauce. I would walk downstairs, and hang out watching my Grampa make the sauce. It was my first lesson in the culinary arts. I used to hang with my Grampa like a puppy follows his master. He was a florist by trade, and had the most AWESOME veggie garden. I felt like a midget walking through the giant tomato plants, towering over my head. (Think "The Godfather" movie, when the grandson is in the garden with Brando's character. His garden was like a forest to the kid.)
And, when the bread man came by, he used to allow me to rip off a hunk and dip it in the sauce.
To this day, I can't make a sauce without thinking of him.
(Yes, we had a bread man, and a milk man, and a fish man. And even a rag man (who collected cotton rags). Our street wasn't paved, and no one spoke English as a first language. My first was Italian. It wasn't until we all moved in 1969 that I was 'forced" to learn English, in order to better assimilate.)
Now...where's the bread, so I can dunk?
pinto
(106,886 posts)a guy that sold kitchenwares (mainly pots, pans and knives, along with a knife sharpening service) and the ubiquitous ice cream truck.
Galileo126
(2,016 posts)The kitchenwares dude! Yep, he too would sell kitchen wares, and sharpen knives, etc. Everyone would push a cart down the street, providing services. Only the milkman had a truck. We didn't have an ice cream man, but we did have some guy pushing an Italian ice/gelato cart from time to time.
The languages spoken on "Immigrant Row" were (in order): French, Italian, Portuguese, Polish, and if you went a mile down the road - German. It was a hard life, according to my parents, but as kids, we didn't know anything different. We were all in the same boat. I didn't speak Polish, but I often played with the 2 Polish kids next door. We didn't care if we couldn't speak to each other formally. We just wanted to play!
Good thread, Pinto. I'm awashed in memories...
grasswire
(50,130 posts)Or maybe an "immigrant row" cookbook. With vignettes. Wouldn't that be cool? I'd love to read it.
Worried senior
(1,328 posts)until I was eight years old and my parents divorced. Came back to it when I was 12 but the thing that I really remember from my youngest years was the grocery truck. My grandma would buy groceries when he came and we lived about 1/4 of a mile away. Believe me I looked for that truck and ran my little legs off to get down there and explore. To me it was magical.
MrMickeysMom
(20,453 posts)
same arrangement, our family on the 2nd floor
and me coming down to visit them, which they loved. I'd speak Italian to my grampa's delight. Other than that, everyone thought he was a stern man. My grandma could do no wrong.
My first introduction to her many Italian dishes were there, but I recall the smells and tastes of artichokes, that I've carried the same recipe with me. Simply, trimming and steaming them, but with lots of sliced garlic into the choke, olive oil and bread crumbs over them. They were so good. Then, she'd make me "desert" of a fresh beaten egg with a little vanilla and sugar beaten into it. We had chickens, and nothing was wrong then with eating a fresh beaten egg, especially if grandma made it.
I also remember when their milkman delivered the milk, getting to take off the top and taste the cream from the paper lid. I also recall him delivering ricotta cheese
tasting like, I mean
no other I've recalled since. That's how good it was in upstate NY in those days.
(sigh)
pinto
(106,886 posts)Big, refashioned warehouse on one of the piers. Great views of the harbor. The blizzard moved in the day we got there. About seven of us - family, friends, extended family. He was rich but didn't have much of a pantry. Ate out a lot, I guess.
What he did have was all sorts of pastas and tomato sauces, crackers, cheeses, pate, tea, coffee, wine. A great music collection. And 1/2 pound of pot. Given the lack of basil or oregano we started using the pot as a seasoning. Every sauce had grass in it. Eventually it was pot blended into the pate. A plate of joints for after dinner smoke with coffee.
The city had completely shut down so we were "snuck in a stow bank" for three and a half days. Never lost electricity or phone. My sister was chosen to call home to let them know we were OK. "Ma, everything's fine but we're snuck in a stow bank" is literally what she said.
(aside) In all seriousness the blizzard wreaked havoc in the harbor, the city and along the whole coast. It was a big blow.
locks
(2,012 posts)All three grown children and one grandchild came home to my one-bedroom Denver apartment. Son drove last car in Denver to get through the snow to the train station to pick up one daughter and 2 yr old grandson. Other daughter walks home from the Denver restaurant where she's working and brings the chef who couldn't get his car out. He brings salmon just flown from Norway (and his knives, of course). I have a turkey and all the fixings. The kitchen has room for one cook so they all go down to the basement pool room while the chef prepares a delicious Christmas feast. So good nobody minds sleeping on the floor.
After a couple long days we dug out the chef's car so he could go home. My son put on his skis and found the only store open. Just happened to be a liquor store so we replenished the wine and cheese. Best Christmas ever.