It’s hard to sufficiently describe the goodie-heaped table that Pamela and her mother, Mommas, put together with love, sweat and some muffled cries of despair as the English peas persisted in boiling over their small saucepan as attention was given to other more important dishes.
What I remember about the food itself was that it was a remarkable representation of who we were and where we came from. It had an innate taste of the southern farm, of the small South Carolina town-dwellers table of the Depression when available local foods were featured, of the 50s housewife cookbooks and even a tiny smattering of Ellis Island on my father’s side. While Daddy was still with us we had a random sampling of some northern dishes that he and his family always enjoyed. Even though he staunchly regarded himself as a Southerner, having moved to Charleston when he was six years old, his mother’s signature dishes were always close to his heart at holidays.
The old ever-debated North & South conflict found its way into whether we had moist white bread dressing that was actually cooked inside the turkey or whether we majored on Mommas’ sage-bright, savory pan of cornbread dressing – so we had both. And we always had a bowl of tart turnips and potatoes mashed together, which I still suspect to be a northern dish and desserts that seemed somewhat foreign to our southern palates like Cici’s memories of Grandmommy’s northern-influenced mincemeat pie, rhubarb pie and the occasional nut bread.
Mother and Mommas’ multitude of dishes alone would have sent us into food shock; turkey and gravy, a small china bowl with tiny pearl onions, a basket of hot biscuits, rolls and corn muffins, creamy baked macaroni & cheese casserole, sweet potatoes, green beans with new potatoes, a dainty cut glass plate lined with celery stuffed with pimento cheese, whole cranberries AND the jellied roll of cranberry sauce, pickled peaches smelling of cloves and pickled beets in a warm, sweet dark syrup, and the troublesome small English peas that were often topped on your plate with Mommas’ own homemade southern chow-chow. (For those who haven’t experienced a good, homemade southern chow-chow – it is a relish made from a combination of different vegetables dictated by your own family recipe and tradition that may include green and red tomatoes, onions, cabbage and might also include carrots, cauliflower or beans. They are pickled in a jar and served cold. The Francophile in me likes to note that the term chow-chow is thought to have come from the French word for cabbage - “chou”.)
After you thought you could not carry one additional fork full to your mouth, you would hear that Mommas had brought her homemade sweet potato pie and that Mother had a warm pumpkin pie in the oven to be topped with fresh whipped cream. Before my coffee-loving days I found that an added part of the delectable dessert experience was the smell of the percolator brewing a fresh pot of Mommas’ heart-stoppingly strong coffee on the kitchen counter to be sipped with a slice (or two, if you gave in) of pie. Even if you paced yourself and slammed the door to seconds, you knew you were in some serious trouble when you faced this den of temptation.
When CiCi married and brought the wonderful SS into our family, each year she added her own offerings that have become a special part of my Thanksgiving memories too – her own sweet potato casserole with a brown sugar & pecan topping and an oyster casserole reminding us that the ocean was just a couple of hours away from us.
I love to hear my sister Cici’s memories of Thanksgiving. How our Mother would peep around into the living room at random moments with a smile and twinkling sky blue eyes and ask what we were talking about. She didn’t want to miss any of the fun. But with Mother and Mommas balancing pots, plates and saucepans in the kitchen, sometimes the living room was the safest place to seek refuge and prepare your stomach for the coming onslaught of food.
When I wish that Mommy M and SanFran S - and now Baby B - could have experienced that mingling of amazing food, laughter and the special gift that Pamela and Mommas had of making memories and moments, I realize that those gifts have been passed down through Cici and grace the love and memory-making ability that she has been given to bless her family. The devotion and tenderness that Pamela and Mommas lavished on us is the same sweetness that brings Cici to make it a point to be up early cooking so that she can send smells of good food cooking out of the kitchen and up the stairs of her house to tickle her daughter’s noses or make her sister a Mommas Meal when she comes to visit.
Who know…. Maybe her peas even boil over once in awhile.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!
Auntie J.
1 Chronicles 16: 8 - 13
Oh give thanks to the LORD, call upon His name;
Make known His deeds among the peoples.
What I remember about the food itself was that it was a remarkable representation of who we were and where we came from. It had an innate taste of the southern farm, of the small South Carolina town-dwellers table of the Depression when available local foods were featured, of the 50s housewife cookbooks and even a tiny smattering of Ellis Island on my father’s side. While Daddy was still with us we had a random sampling of some northern dishes that he and his family always enjoyed. Even though he staunchly regarded himself as a Southerner, having moved to Charleston when he was six years old, his mother’s signature dishes were always close to his heart at holidays.
The old ever-debated North & South conflict found its way into whether we had moist white bread dressing that was actually cooked inside the turkey or whether we majored on Mommas’ sage-bright, savory pan of cornbread dressing – so we had both. And we always had a bowl of tart turnips and potatoes mashed together, which I still suspect to be a northern dish and desserts that seemed somewhat foreign to our southern palates like Cici’s memories of Grandmommy’s northern-influenced mincemeat pie, rhubarb pie and the occasional nut bread.
Mother and Mommas’ multitude of dishes alone would have sent us into food shock; turkey and gravy, a small china bowl with tiny pearl onions, a basket of hot biscuits, rolls and corn muffins, creamy baked macaroni & cheese casserole, sweet potatoes, green beans with new potatoes, a dainty cut glass plate lined with celery stuffed with pimento cheese, whole cranberries AND the jellied roll of cranberry sauce, pickled peaches smelling of cloves and pickled beets in a warm, sweet dark syrup, and the troublesome small English peas that were often topped on your plate with Mommas’ own homemade southern chow-chow. (For those who haven’t experienced a good, homemade southern chow-chow – it is a relish made from a combination of different vegetables dictated by your own family recipe and tradition that may include green and red tomatoes, onions, cabbage and might also include carrots, cauliflower or beans. They are pickled in a jar and served cold. The Francophile in me likes to note that the term chow-chow is thought to have come from the French word for cabbage - “chou”.)
After you thought you could not carry one additional fork full to your mouth, you would hear that Mommas had brought her homemade sweet potato pie and that Mother had a warm pumpkin pie in the oven to be topped with fresh whipped cream. Before my coffee-loving days I found that an added part of the delectable dessert experience was the smell of the percolator brewing a fresh pot of Mommas’ heart-stoppingly strong coffee on the kitchen counter to be sipped with a slice (or two, if you gave in) of pie. Even if you paced yourself and slammed the door to seconds, you knew you were in some serious trouble when you faced this den of temptation.
When CiCi married and brought the wonderful SS into our family, each year she added her own offerings that have become a special part of my Thanksgiving memories too – her own sweet potato casserole with a brown sugar & pecan topping and an oyster casserole reminding us that the ocean was just a couple of hours away from us.
I love to hear my sister Cici’s memories of Thanksgiving. How our Mother would peep around into the living room at random moments with a smile and twinkling sky blue eyes and ask what we were talking about. She didn’t want to miss any of the fun. But with Mother and Mommas balancing pots, plates and saucepans in the kitchen, sometimes the living room was the safest place to seek refuge and prepare your stomach for the coming onslaught of food.
When I wish that Mommy M and SanFran S - and now Baby B - could have experienced that mingling of amazing food, laughter and the special gift that Pamela and Mommas had of making memories and moments, I realize that those gifts have been passed down through Cici and grace the love and memory-making ability that she has been given to bless her family. The devotion and tenderness that Pamela and Mommas lavished on us is the same sweetness that brings Cici to make it a point to be up early cooking so that she can send smells of good food cooking out of the kitchen and up the stairs of her house to tickle her daughter’s noses or make her sister a Mommas Meal when she comes to visit.
Who know…. Maybe her peas even boil over once in awhile.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!
Auntie J.
1 Chronicles 16: 8 - 13
Oh give thanks to the LORD, call upon His name;
Make known His deeds among the peoples.
Sing to Him, sing praises to Him;
Speak of all His wonders.
Speak of all His wonders.
Glory in His holy name;
Let the heart of those who seek the LORD be glad.
Seek the LORD and His strength;
Seek His face continually.
Remember His wonderful deeds which He has done,
His marvels and the judgments from His mouth,
His marvels and the judgments from His mouth,
O seed of Israel His servant,
Sons of Jacob,
His chosen ones!
Colossians 3: 15 - 17
Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts,
Colossians 3: 15 - 17
Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts,
to which indeed you were called in one body; and be thankful.
Let the word of Christ richly dwell within you,
Let the word of Christ richly dwell within you,
with all wisdom teaching and admonishing one another
with psalms and hymns and spiritual songs,
singing with thankfulness in your hearts to God.
Whatever you do in word or deed,
Whatever you do in word or deed,
do all in the name of the Lord Jesus,
giving thanks through Him to God the Father.
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