Mixed with Love
I guess you could say I've been a lifetime foodie. Growing up I often used the phrase "born on the second pew" to explain to people my relationship with the church. As the youngest of four kids I made it to church for the first time just weeks after my arrival and I haven't looked back since. Sure, there were those few years in college where sleeping in and a late breakfast in the caf became my Sunday routine, but as a church employee who now runs three weekend services every single weekend, I like to think I've made up for that time-and then some.
My relationship with food started just the same. In fact, one of my very first memories as a pre-schooler involves food. I vividly remember waking up in the middle of the night, hungry, and went straight to my mom's room for help. As a shy little girl I must have been more than hungry to actually wake my mom up in at such an un-ideal time. I didn't and still don't like to inconvenience people with my needs, so I must have been pretty desperate. With my stomach growling, my mom's hair up in one of those messy, mid-sleep buns and her cream quilted silk robe that zippered up the front, we walked down the stairs to our dark, wall-papered kitchen for a mid-night snack. Early as it was, my mom eager to get both her and I back to bed, my mom threw together the first and easiest thing that would satiate my appetite. White bread smothered in creamy unsalted butter. From that moment on, I was in love.
It's hard to choose a favorite recipe, meal, or food memory from my childhood. I am a firm believer that anything made by my mother's hands is better than anything by my own. Meatloaf. Spinach Casserole. Tostadas. Cranberry Bread. Peanute Butter and Jelly. You name it, it's better when mom makes it. I think it must have something to do with love. There really is nothing more comforting than a homemade meal and the love and conversation that comes with it.
If there was one food that my childhood centered around, it would have to be Texas Sheet Cake. I have more memories around that than any other and the legacy continues on year after year. With my grandpa from the south and my grandma from Louisiana, we ended up with a handful of southern recipes in our repertoire...and I couldn't be more thankful for every one of them.
One of the beauties of a large family is the plethora of birthdays that gathered us around the table on what felt like a monthly basis. With minimal finances to spread around much less splurge on a birthday, my mom made it a priority to celebrate each of our birthdays with our meal and dessert of choice. Corrina always chose Texas Sheet Cake. Daniel always homemade Lemon Merengue Pie. Missy usually Carrot Cake. And myself-I liked to switch it up, but with my birthday so near (and occasionally on) Thanksgiving, pie was a frequent dessert of choice. While TSC was the showcase on Corrina's birthday, somehow we found an excuse for it at least a solid half-dozen times a year. Grampse's birthday? Texas Sheet Cake. Memorial Day? Texas Sheet Cake. Sunday afternoon? Texas Sheet Cake. Potluck? Texas Sheet Cake. Saturday Morning? Texas Sheet Cake. As you can see, TSC was a frequent bystander at family "events".
With it's moist interior and lumpy glazed frosting melted into every crevice and corner, no one can deny the beauty of TSC. Everyone has their favorite slice-most of us kids fighting over a corner (for the additional frosting) or the middle (for the additional moisture). It's always better the next day, but who can promise it will even be there? In the warmth of our San Diego climate, most things ended up in the fridge for us--hiding from heat and the ants that came with it. TSC was no different, other than the communal fork that laid hidden in the crumbs under the protection of plastic wrap that was hardly necessary. Bite after bite TSC lasted little more than a day in our house and for good reason. I'm sure this had much to do with the additional adolescent pudge that found it's way to my mid-section. But who cares? I had my good friend, TSC to thank for it.
With the discovery of gluten sensitivities in a handful of us as adults, TSC makes a few less appearances throughout the year. But when it does, even I, gluten allergies and all, are willing to splurge and sacrifice the potential threat it imposes for just a few luscious and memorable bites of heavenly goodness. Slowly we've spread the recipe amongst a few close friends that appreciate it's goodness as much as we do. But even in the hands of others, it's still not as good as when mom makes it. My brother is convinced mom does something different to it when she makes the recipe. I'm convinced too, but I'm pretty sure it has more to do with love and prayers she stirs into it than a pinch of this or spoonful of that. Food is pretty great, but so much better mixed with love.
Allison Elizabeth
No comments:
Post a Comment