"She was
nine..", and so the story begin'. Momma had takin' a likin' to tellin'
this story at holiday gatherin's, friendly functions church festivals and any
other Southern social gatherin' she could get her bottom to. The story
simplistic in nature had slightly changed over time with each re-tellin', but
the sentiment still the same. Momma never was much good at tellin' a story. As
the ages added on to my life I never saw the harm in her embellishments. I'd
learned to love them; to embrace them. There'd so come a time where they were
no more; where I'd yearn for them. I always found it odd when people would call
Momma shy. Even now, she can talk your head off if you let her. I guess that's
where I get it from.
"She was nine...” she would begin. “She spent spring break in Arkansas with a childhood friend’s family at the time share they owned. Durin’ the week she mentioned that I never cooked, that I didn't know how. That's if spaghetti was on the stove we knew Momma cooked it ‘cause that's all she knew to make, that her Daddy did all the cookin'. So, at the end of the year PTA banquet when they called me up on stage to get my awards they told everyone what she said and they handed me a cookbook. I was so shame"... Even now, to this day I don't ever recall tellin' Ms. Russo this story. But, I wouldn't put it past myself. I always was what I like to say, “The Mouth of the South”, always yammerin' on about one thing or another. Heck, I still do.
"She was nine...” she would begin. “She spent spring break in Arkansas with a childhood friend’s family at the time share they owned. Durin’ the week she mentioned that I never cooked, that I didn't know how. That's if spaghetti was on the stove we knew Momma cooked it ‘cause that's all she knew to make, that her Daddy did all the cookin'. So, at the end of the year PTA banquet when they called me up on stage to get my awards they told everyone what she said and they handed me a cookbook. I was so shame"... Even now, to this day I don't ever recall tellin' Ms. Russo this story. But, I wouldn't put it past myself. I always was what I like to say, “The Mouth of the South”, always yammerin' on about one thing or another. Heck, I still do.
For years, Momma told
that story with much pang; a twinge of embarrassment always evident in her
voice as she’d recount the tale, but, now, now we’d laugh at how silly it all
was. As if her ability to make the perfect casserole or plate of spaghetti made
her less or more of a Southern Woman than my frans Momma.
Just today I reach in an old kitchen drawer and pulled out that book. No, not the gift the bless your heart book. The book. The one Momma got all her casseroles and pasta recipes from. The one we loved ‘cause if we saw a bow of spaghetti on the stove we knew Momma cooked it. Yes, I got out that book. Flipped the worn and frayed pages till I found the one I wanted. Gave it a once over. Once I was content I could recreate in my own way, I pulled out a cast iron...
Just today I reach in an old kitchen drawer and pulled out that book. No, not the gift the bless your heart book. The book. The one Momma got all her casseroles and pasta recipes from. The one we loved ‘cause if we saw a bow of spaghetti on the stove we knew Momma cooked it. Yes, I got out that book. Flipped the worn and frayed pages till I found the one I wanted. Gave it a once over. Once I was content I could recreate in my own way, I pulled out a cast iron...
Ingredients:
16 ounces of Ragu sauce
1lb of ground beef
3 large onion chopped
1 large bell pepper chopped
1/2 cup uncooked rice
2 tsp of salt
2 tsp chili powder
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Directions:
1. Preheat the oven to 350 F
2. in a cast iron or skillet cook the meat, onions and bell pepper until meat is brown and veggies are soft.
3. Take out the grease. I like two leave two or three tablespoons of it in the cast iron for flavor.
5. Pour into a bakin' dish and bake for about an hour.
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That looks and sounds delicious! I'm going to have to try it.
ReplyDeleteSuch a tasty recipe! Thanks for sharing at Funtastic Friday!
ReplyDelete