Lessons My Mother Taught Me

Growing up in a 10-person household, my mother spent a lot of time in the kitchen to feed the always, hungry faces. Breakfast was a bit of a free for all and consisted of cereal with pitchers of cold milk, freshly collected from the bulk tank and toast with butter and jam. An afterschool homemade snack of cookies or cakes was always waiting for us, which we stuffed in our mouths, before we set off to attend to our afternoon chores. But at dinner, order was required.

The girls were all given kitchen responsibilities based on our age and ability. As a kid one of my kitchen duties was assisting in setting the table. And even though we gathered ravenous from our farm chores, our mother was insistent on civility, which was reinforced by the perfectly laid table. Plates ½ inch from the table edge, silverware 1 inch from table edge and a ½ inch from the plate, knife, blade in – right side, spoon, if needed – to the right of knife, left side dinner fork – closest to plate ½ inch, salad fork – to the outside of dinner fork, with water-glass above the spoon. On Sunday’s and special occasions, table linens were used, wine glasses were placed above the knife and the center of the table was filled with candles or flowers.

Running to the table was a big no-no, and if you did, you would have to re-approach the table like a lady or gentleman. This slowed the eating process down, which made you quickly unpopular, as dinner was not allowed to start until all were seated and grace was recited. Our evening meals were primarily meat and potatoes with greens, or simple casseroles.  Sunday supers were elaborate with four to five courses and if we were hosting a party, you could count on full attendance. My mom was famous for her cooking and baking, and knew how to fill a table.

The older I got the more involved I became. Living in the country meant learning how to substitute and working with what you had, which fostered the ability of “turn nothing into something”. I pocketed her secrets as fast as I could stir, knead or bake.

Our kitchen duties were only one of the many lessons that my mother thought was necessary in turning her girls into ladies. We had weekly gatherings in the living room, where mom would line us up, place encyclopedia’s on our heads and have us walk around to insure we could hold proper posture and to avoid Scoliosis. (The threat of Scoliosis was used to get us to take this task seriously; only the word cracked us up, which caused someone to drop their book, which cracked us up even more).  After, we would read aloud, over and over to practice our diction, which helped us excel in Declamation. And, just to be sure we could hold our own in battle, we engaged in leg wrestling matches, which thankfully I haven’t had to use that lesson yet. As for the rest of the lessons, they are all a part of my everyday living and I value each and every one of them. So thank you mom for weaving such a helpful tapestry of skills. I am forever grateful.

As a mother myself, one of the best gifts I receive, is to see faces around a table joyfully enjoying a shared meal. This month’s Jerk Buffalo Rib recipe should do just that and is so delicious that not only will it bring people to the table – they may even be tempted to run! Cheers! Jill

p.s. Ribs are featured in this months special at a discount and you receive ‘free shipping”!

For recipe go to: www.wildideabuffalo.com/recipes