by Eddie Rhoades
True story: My mother passed by the stove and felt the heat and said “This stove is on.” Looking inside she found some biscuits that resembled charcoal bricklets. After she thought about it awhile she remembered she had put those biscuits in the oven three days ago. She let them cool off and threw pan and all in the trash. Later in the day her youngest daughter stopped by and noticed the burnt stuff in the trash and said “Mother, what’s this?” Mother told her what had happened and the daughter thought it was hilariously funny. She glued the biscuits back to the pan and used whiteout to write on the pan “Mema’s Home Cooking.” Then she hung it on the wall where it remains to this day. Someday her kids may fight over this as a family heirloom.
Although I was one of five children my mother always made me feel special. Just for me she used to make fried bananas. I love fruit and the bananas were hot and melted inside a silver dollar sized pancake smothered in syrup. They were heavenly delicious. Nowadays I am not supposed to have fried things (cholesterol) or syrup (calories) or the pancake (carbohydrates).
This topic of food brings back memories of when my mother left us for a while and Daddy had to fix our supper every night. The first night he took an iron skillet and heated up a concoction of tomatoes, macaroni, onions and corn. Us kids looked at it and said “Daddy, what is this?” He answered “It’s goulash.” Well we had heard of goulash so even though it looked odd, we ate it. The next night, in the same skillet, he mixed up macaroni, lima beans, cheese and peppers. We all looked at it and said “Daddy, what is this?” again he said “It’s goulash. This went on every night with some wild concoction of different ingredients which was always called goulash. Believe it or not all this talk about food is making me hungry. I think I’ll whip up some traditional family goulash.