When I was a kid my Mom made eggs every weekend too and we always had "dippin" eggs. I had no idea until I was probably 12 that dippin eggs were usually called over easy.
Part of my love for breakfast and I have to assume my Dad's great love for the most important meal of the day, is my Grandmother.
My beautiful Grandma Ruby when she was a young woman
We used to visit my Grandparents in West Virginia almost every Thanksgiving and I always loved it so much. It was exactly how Thanksgiving should be. Driving hours down country roads, over the mountains, and through the woods to Grandmother's house to share a massive meal with our equally massive family.
Before some of the bigger highways were built, our trip was six hours long and involved some of the scariest mountain roads I have ever seen. Barely any guard rail, these steep narrow rounds wound up and down mountains, past rivers and through valleys. Steep grades with runaway truck exits and roads signs warning of falling rocks. I remember always looking up this one cliff to see three crosses in the ground, watching over the farmland. I remember blue skies with huge fluffy clouds as far as you could see and the leaves turning all the colors of the rainbow. It was the longest, sometimes scary, but most beautiful drive.
After a final steep, winding, hilly road, passing cows and sheep and old homes that looked 100 years old, the road would level out, the trees opened up, and there was Roscoe and Ruby Swanigan's home. My Grandma and Grandpa's Lincoln would always be in the drive and sometimes they would even be waiting on the front porch waving a warm welcome back. It was a simple brick front rambler with cream siding and a huge open yard. When we came inside, it always smelled the same, like food had been cooking and I believe my Grandma's perfume. Their favorite cushy rocking chairs were always in their place in the front room and our cots were popped open and waiting for us in the guest room. Kick-knacks were placed on every shelf and dresser. Ceramic men and women holding flowers, or an old coal miner carrying a pick ax.
In the game room was a pool table. all of my Grandpa's guitars and banjo, and a wall of pictures of all of my Aunts and Uncles high school portraits. I used to stare at the soft black and white photos and compare each face, seeing how my relatives looked so alike and marveling in their youth and beauty and thinking how their faces had changed but how beautiful they all still were to me.
We would settle in and hours of looking at old photos, playing under the pool table, and listening to Grandpa's stories and jokes would ensue.
Once all of our cousins and Aunts and Uncles arrived, there would always be the turkey, and stuffing, and my Grandma's amazing home-made mashed potatoes but that isn't my favorite meal or memory.
Two different Swanigan family reunions
I have always been an early riser and never slept well because I was afraid of the dark so I would lay in my cot and pray for morning to come and to hear my Grandma's humming coming from the kitchen.
She always hummed when she cooked and that's how I knew it was ok to come out of bed and join her in the kitchen. She would be up before the sun making fresh from scratch biscuits and would see me and always say/sing something like "good morning, morning glory". It would be her and I sometimes for a couple hours before everyone else rose. I would rattle off all the millions of stories and Ideas that were in my head while she hummed and pat the dough and would say "whew honey, doesn't your tongue ever get tired!".
She would sometimes pull out a coffee can full of change and give me a few coins. I remember being so amazed by all the coins she had. I thought she was rich. It was a tiny little kitchen with one small window over the sink and barely any counter space, but my Grandma made the most delicious food there and I loved our quiet time in the morning together.
Then once everyone was awake, and the coffee was brewed, and the gravy was bubbling, we would eat. In a small dining room with an organ in the corner, we sat around a large wooden table and I would pile eggs, bacon, gravy, and biscuits on my plate. I would mix it all together in one big, messy, gooey, hill of breakfast delight and devour the entire plate.
A big home-made breakfast always makes me think of my Grandmother and reminds me of the holidays, no matter what time of year it is.
So with the holidays fast approaching and for the first time in many years, I made pancakes.
These weren't just any pancakes though. There were Cranberry Almond Pancakes with Honey Orange Sauce.
Super easy to make and so delicious.
I followed the recipe for thinner pancakes on the Bisquick box but added a handful of dried cranberries, a handful of sliced almonds, and a little vanilla extract to the batter.
It made about 12 medium sized cakes.
Then for the sauce I took about a 1/4 cup of orange juice, the juice from half of a fresh orange, a little orange zest, about 1/4 cup powdered sugar, mixed that, then added honey until it got to the consistency I wanted. It was a little thinner than syrup but the pancakes soaked it up and it was heaven.
I served the pancakes with bacon and sausage and the house was just filled with great smells of breakfast for hours. I thought of my Mother and my Grandmother as I served pancakes to Lily for the first time.
Happy Thanksgiving to you Mom, Grandma and Grandpa. We miss you!
No comments:
Post a Comment