Love Can Be Found in the Kitchen

This is my mother's recipe box.  It's filled with love - all the recipes that she accumulated in her life time.  Her treasured "go to" recipes for the delicious meals and morsels of goodness that she placed on the supper table  every day, every week, month and year.   As I read them, I smiled.   They're in my mother's handwriting....a lasting memory of her...Bernice.  

You could tell the ones that were her favorite for they are the most worn and stained.  I knew these dishes for I ate them often; the hamburger hot dish (top L) was a weekly staple at our house.  To this day it is a favorite of mine, although assuredly it does not taste "like Mom's".  

The molasses crinkles were cookies that Mom made only around the holidays; they were Dad's favorites, and my  Grandmother Jongewaard's too.  I never much cared for them as a child, but I'd give anything for a batch of Mom's right now.  

I pulled out a few cards that had notes on them; "Good" or  "Double Batch", "Use more Salt" or "Mom's" (referring to my Mom's Mom).  

Mom  loved to cook....or maybe she didn't?  I don't know, exactly as I never asked her.  It was just something she did for her family - and she did it very well.  If you went away hungry after eating at our table, it was your own fault.

She did tell me once that she learned to cook from my  paternal Grandmother - Blanche.  Grandma and Mom would cook for the thrashing crews at harvest time.  They'd put out elaborate breakfasts the Dad and Grandpa Schulz as well as the hired hands and neighbors.  As soon as they were done and in the field, Mom and Grandma would do the dishes and set to making lunch for the noon meal.  Can you image it in a time where everything was made from scratch and limited cooking appliances?  I can't.  I can barely pull off a Thanksgiving feast.

Mom would bake every Thursday so that she'd have treats in the cupboards for any visitors that may grace our doorstep on Sunday.   That's what people did on Sundays; they'd go for Sunday drives in the afternoon, check on crops and go visit neighbors.   We always had Sunday visitors; Art Sperger would generally  stop a few Sundays a month.  I remember him because he always had a quarter for me and Mom would always have chocolate cake or a cookie for him.  Art was a bachelor (one of three bachelor brothers) that  would do anything for my Dad, as my Dad did for them.  Then there was Uncle Bobby - who actually was my grandfather's hired man - who was sweet on my Aunt Delores (Nannie) and married her.  He liked my Dad and would come around on Sundays for a cup of coffee and shoot the breeze  with Dad.  He liked my Mom's baking powder biscuits, said they reminded him of home (he was from Mississippi).   It wasn't lost on me that both Art and Uncle Bobby had birthdays within days of mine and my brothers.  :)

Everything Mom made was made with love....she was the epitome of Love.   I miss her terribly, especially this time of year.  Her apron dusted with flour, the counter tops filled with Angel food cakes resting on top of Coke bottles to cool, rosettes cooling on the counter  and Mom laughing  in the kitchen over something that Dad said as he tried to sneak a  a fried potato from the frying pan as Mom was making supper.

Life was simpler, life was easier, life was treasured....Love was found in my  Mother's kitchen.