September 1, 2021
In my experience there are two
things that take us back, way back to when we were kids. One is scent. I recall
the time when, as a young mother, and after the death of my own mother, I
bought a bar of soap from the dollar store, a brand I didn’t think I’d ever had
before. This soap, when I picked it up and sniffed, filled me with a such an
immediate sense of warmth, of…goodness. It was the strangest thing I’d ever experienced.
I couldn’t not buy it.
I told my older-by-six-years sister
about it and showed her the soap. It was called Cashmere Bouquet, and my sister
filled in the blanks for me. She told me it was the soap our mom used to always
buy when we were small. That explained the sense of peace that smell gave me. I
had a similar reaction the first time, as an adult, that I bought Jergens lotion.
There’s just something about the fragrance of that hand cream. In this case,
though, I well remembered it myself from my childhood. There had always been a
bottle of Jergens in the house all the time I was growing up.
The other thing that can take
us way back is food.
This past weekend we bought
our groceries on Sunday as we often do. I asked my husband, as we shopped, what
he’d like for supper that night. He asked me to let him think about it—likely so
he could wander the grocery store, looking and considering. The request he came
back with surprised me because it was something we had semi-regularly when the
kids were small, but very rarely since.
It was what my parents, when I
was a child, called cheese burgers. But they aren’t the cheeseburgers that I
bet come to mind for you now, the ones that are in fact hamburgers with cheese
on them.
These were called burgers only
because hamburger buns were used. Basically, the buns were opened and each
piece put on a baking sheet. And onto these buns went spreading cheese—you know
the brand, the one that comes out of a jar. Then, eater’s choice of any or all
of the following: cooked small pieces of bacon, sliced olives, chopped onions
and chopped tomatoes. Once assembled, you slid that bun-loaded tray under the
broiler and in just a couple of minutes and sometimes a bit longer, there was a
warm, bubbly, cheesy feast ready to eat.
One bun, opened, became two
servings. Our kids loved these and especially liked bacon and sometimes olives
on theirs. I was the only one in those early days of married life who liked a
slice of tomato on top. Still do, but then I like grilled tomatoes, period.
David routinely would eat 6 of
these darlings, or three full buns. Sunday, I made four pieces for him, as
requested, and was surprised when he wanted tomato on his. I surprised myself
by eating two pieces. All told, food-wise, the supper comprised 3 complete
hamburger buns, a third of a cup of spreading cheese, 3 slices of bacon, about
10 olives, sliced, a couple tablespoons of onion, and a half a tomato. Not a
lot of food to feed two people, and that’s the beauty of that meal. You’re full
and satisfied and really didn’t eat much at all. And in the making, and the
eating, I couldn’t help but think back to those childhood days—doubly so, because
on this past Sunday, I had an unusual second course to these cheesy buns: corn
on the cob.
After getting our groceries we
drove beyond the town limits a bit to the farmer’s, from whom we always buy our
corn—and we get anything else he has that looks good, too, and this past Sunday
that included some plump, ripe and juicy strawberries. We got the corn not so
much to eat that night, but to cook and freeze that night. Today is the first
of September, which means that fresh corn won’t be available in these parts for
a whole lot longer.
Since this was likely the last
of the fresh corn for us this season, I couldn’t possibly not have an
ear of it. One of my favorite things in the world to eat, one of my “comfort”
foods from those long-ago childhood days, is butter and salt, with a bit of corn
to go with it. These days, I have cute little individual plastic trays that we
use for our corn-on-the-cob experience. These are handy, because they allow you
to have a really good amount (read: probably way too much) butter in that
little dish, that you can soak your corn in while it cools enough to eat.
And as I began to eat that ear
of corn, I couldn’t help but recall how we’d done it in the “olden days” – the days
when I was a child at my mother’s table.
My parents would begin the
process: dad would take one slice of bread, put a dollop of butter (margarine, in
those days) on it, and then lay the cob on top, as if it was a wiener and the
bread a bun for a hot dog. He would then roll the cob around with the butter-bearing
bread finger-cupped around it, and then he’d set the cob on his plate and pass
that slice of bread to my mother, who then passed it on after she’d used it.
That one piece of bread went
around the table as many times as there was an ear of corn to slather and then
eat. There were five of us, by the way. And then, when the corn was no more,
there would be a fierce competition for one great prize: because somebody
had to eat the corn bread, and that margarine-soaked item was highly prized at our
kitchen table.
I shudder now thinking of eating
that corn-bread, but my parents, if you hadn’t guessed, invented the concept of
frugality—at least for me they did. And because of the things we learned to prize
as great treats when we were kids—that greasy piece of corn-bread (which actually
had the flavor of corn), a slice of raw potato, the bones out of a can of
salmon, and the chicken/turkey heart—I can say that they also were really gifted
in making that frugality fun for their children.
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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