Showing posts with label Mom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mom. Show all posts

Saturday, June 13, 2020

Birthday Dinner

Yesterday was my mother's birthday, the first since she passed away in October. "What are you going to make for dinner?" my sister asked me, for I have a tradition of remembering those we loved with a favorite meal of theirs on their birthdays.

But I couldn't answer her question, because I honestly didn't know. My mom was a great cook and loved so many foods it was hard to pick a signature dish. Even narrowing the choices down was a challenge, although my brother and sister and I did have a go at it as we talked yesterday afternoon.

Our conjecture was a little irreverent, focusing on things that she liked that we didn't always love. "Some kind of salad with fruit in it and a dressing that is too sweet?" My brother suggested.

"Or one of those awful chopped salads from a bag?" my sister offered.

"Slap some pesto butter on frozen salmon and pop it in the oven," my brother continued, "and mash up some cauliflower to go with it."

My mother did love cauliflower, especially after she began limiting most of the carbs in her diet to wine and dessert. It was kind of good to laugh at her a little, too, as we would have done if she were still around to take the teasing.

In the end I chose to make southern fried chicken using my grandmother's recipe, which was something my mother loved but rarely treated herself to. And Heidi insisted that we had to have chocolate cake, which the love of was a bond between her and my mom. And I think a new tradition has been born, because, fried chicken and chocolate cake! Who could say no to that?

Don't worry-- I made mashed cauliflower and a salad, too. Not from a bag, though, and the dressing? Was not too sweet.

But I know my mom would have like it anyway. Happy Birthday, Frannie.

Sunday, December 8, 2019

Nothing But

Right before the turn for the highway up to the Twin Cities, there is a modest strip mall in Rochester, MN. We stopped there a few times over the months that I traveled there occasionally with my mom for her treatments at the Mayo Clinic: once for gas, once for lunch at a Mediterranean place,  and once for my mom to get her nail fixed after a run-in with her ice maker. It was on the last stop that we noticed the marquee on one of the store fronts tucked into the shopping center. Nothing Bundt Cake, it proclaimed.

My mom had a sweet tooth and more than anything, we were trying to boost her calories, plus? My birthday was in a couple days.

An old-fashioned bell jangled over the door when we pushed it open, and the smell of fresh baked cake washed over us. A friendly young woman welcomed us warmly and gestured to the samples on a small round table to our left. Everything was delicious-- but the lemon raspberry special, the chocolate chocolate chip, and the red velvet were our favorites, and so my mom bought a few mini cakes to celebrate. It was a pleasure seeing how much she enjoyed them.

Later in the summer, Heidi, my mom, and I moved to Rochester for a month, and the same formerly forgettable little strip mall became one of our main shopping destinations with a great grocery, pet supply, and liquor store conveniently located there. Those little bundt cakes were a treat my mom always enjoyed, no matter how tepid her appetite otherwise. So much so, that when she died, we looked for a NBC franchise near enough to her home to buy desserts for her funeral lunch, but without success.

The other night I hosted my writing group. It was the first time we had met since before school ended last year, and it was time. I love those gals, but to be honest, I don't really feel like seeing many people yet. The four of us always split the meal-- hosting means providing dinner, and the other three bring apps, wine, and dessert. This time, Ellen brought delicious chutney and cheddar and crackers, Mary brought some wonderful Spanish red wine, and Leah arrived with treats from a brand new place that none of us even knew had opened.

"Nothing Bundt Cake," she announced as she deposited the bakery box on the sideboard. "Have you heard of it?"