I've written many times about Mamaw, my mom’s mom, who was a wonderful cook but hated the process. On the flip side is Grandma, my dad’s mom, who loved to cook. She passed that love on to my dad, who also loves to cook, and she's where my cooking gene originated.
If Grandma knew you were coming to visit, she always had something for you to eat, such as cookies, pie, or cake. If she didn't know you were coming, one of the first things she would say was, “Let me make you something to eat.”
Grandma was a country cook. I remember the tub of lard that sat in her kitchen. Most of the meals featured fried chicken or
pork chops…sometimes both…mashed potatoes and pan gravy, and lots of desserts.
But Grandma was best known for her homemade noodles. They
were similar to the frozen noodles found in the grocery store, which my research
suggests is thanks to her German ancestry. They were a staple at every family meal. To this day family members will
close their eyes in reverence at the memory of those delicious noodles cooked
in chicken broth. The noodles were coated in so much flour the chicken broth became a thick gravy while they cooked.
I watched Grandma make them from time to time, but of course, I never wrote down her recipe. When she died years ago, the recipe went with
her. My Aunt Mary told me she had one particular spoon she used to measure the
flour, and the only ingredients were flour, eggs, and water.
A few years ago, my sister challenged me to recreate the
noodles for Thanksgiving. I did! When I bit into the noodles, all of the
memories of Grandma’s kitchen came flooding back.
This time I decided to add chicken and vegetables to the mix
to make a complete meal. The Picky Eater liked it, and even ate the leftovers!
I think Grandma would be happy.
