“Moms and Food go Together”

By

Gerry Niskern

We all know that the mothers we see on greeting cards with the saintly smiles aren’t really mom. She’s usually a complex set of contradictions. So I asked a few people a simple question. At least, I thought it was. “What food reminds you of your mother?”

I was expecting some sweet answers that would make a nice Mother’s Day Blog. Was I wrong!

One friend recalled with a shudder, that as a child in Chattanooga, Tennessee, “My mother believed in ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans do!’ Everyone in the South ate a lot of greens. Mother made plain boiled collards, turnip greens, and kale and water cress with no seasoning.  I do I think my father drew the line at dandy lions. Although he never objected in front of us, we only had them one time”

My own daughter tells me she never sees a Cheerios box that she doesn’t think of the time that she and her brother were happily eating their Cheerios as their dad was leaving for work. Grandma arrived and announced “I’m here to take care of you. Your mother is in the hospital because you kids are driving her crazy.” They both looked at their baby brother. Of course. It must have been him!

One man said that anytime he sees peanut butter he thinks of a disastrous Mother’s day. “My dad gave mom the Bentwood rocker that she had been requesting for years.  He took her out to dinner and we kids were on our own. I made myself a triple decker peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich. My brother ran by and grabbed it. I threw my shoe at him just as he ducked behind the new Bentwood. All the slats in the back were shattered. The rest of the story is too sad to tell.”

I did get a couple of nostalgic stories. A friend said that she happened to be squeezing lemon juice and she had been thinking of how her mother used to make candied lemon and orange peels. Her mother was a Lebanese bride of an arranged marriage and among the many talents she brought to this country was how to preserve delicious citrus peel. My friend says that she’s never been able to duplicate it.

My resident historian always thinks of his mom when he has pinto beans. She cooked them in a black Dutch oven. He knew he was home again after yet another household move when he smelled the delicious beans bubbling away in the old cast iron pot.

“Sorry mom,” one of my sons replied to my food query. “What I remember best is Grandma’s pot roast in the pressure cooker, hissing and spitting steam. And of course, her string beans were delicious because I had helped to clean and snap them.”

You can’t win ‘em all!

Easter On the Porch

By

Gerry Niskern

Front porches are wonderful. You can gather there and stay far apart. Of course, when I say porch I mean patio, deck, balconey, or any outdoor space at your house set aside for enjoying the outdoors.

My early memories of sitting on a porch was when I was a kid and our family gathered there in the evening. The swing and chairs were wicker. My sister and I sold raspberries and black berries at our little road side stand. We had worked hard picking berries and if you have ever picked a raspberry you know what I mean. We were allowed to walk down the highway, RR Route # 1, and spend our hard earned pennies at the gas station. We bought Baby Ruth candy bars that we shared with our mom and dad while they enjoyed the quiet evening on the porch.

The sanctuary of the front porch was always where everyone gathered on summer evenings. If you sat on my Aunt Sarah’s porch down in town you could get the daily gossip bulletin narrated by her as people walked by. She commented on each couples marital status, who was expecting, and who was cheating on who.

Front porches were great for playing on a rainy day. They were also the place where the first kiss was stolen on the swing in the evening when the rest of the family had turned in.

My front porch now consists of a little brick area about 8 feet out behind a low stone wall. (mine is topped with Geraniums) In the evening I look north to the close by North Phoenix Mountains. I see tiny hikers up on top cavorting around. And below I see hawks circling with their eye on the bunnies that are everywhere! Sometimes a family of Quail stroll by or even a coyote will slink down the street.

We’ve all been isolated lately, so get out on those porches, patios, decks, whatever, and stay six feet apart and enjoy a “socially  Distant”, but Happy Easter!

This Time of New Traditions

By

Gerry Niskern

The poppies have bloomed and the giant Saguaro’s  are ready to create their crown of white flowers on top. Everyone’s thoughts have turned to Easter. But, expensive vacations and even pricey brunches are not in the plans for American families this year. Large Easter egg hunts have been cancelled and new family traditions are in the making.

But actually, the most important tradition at Easter will always be with us. Each baby’s first creative experience is usually when he get’s to sit up to the table and help dye the Easter eggs. The kids all start out with wax crayons, delicate designs and great expectations. Baby gets to wield a spoon and proceeds to happily slosh an egg around in a cup. After a few eggs are colored and the first cup of dye hits the kitchen floor, the job becomes a little rushed and it’s all downhill from there!

Did you know that the tradition of dyeing eggs in bright colors and giving them to family and friends goes back centuries? The Egyptians and the Persians practiced this tradition long before Christ was born. In the Middle Ages it was forbidden to eat eggs during the 40 days of Lent. However, no  one told the chickens! Because of the resulting glut, the giving of Easter eggs tradition developed.

The simple egg is perhaps the oldest and most universal symbol of rebirth and new life. Smaller family celebrations may be the order of the day this year, but the Easter egg will still be the centerpiece of the day. Of course, the splotchy little egg that the newest member of the family stirred around in the dye cup will be the most beautiful one of all!