AT MY MOTHERS KNEE: Cooking, Crying and Rejoicing

There’s something about riding a train that feels somewhat like sleepwalking, dreaming while awake, walking down a misty, foggy memory lane.  I boarded the 11:25 Amtrack Train from Stamford, CT going to Alexandria, VA  to visit my daughter, her husband and my grandson Evan.  Feeling a little tired, moving a bit slow, and just wanting to get there, I was not anxious to begin the journey.  I didn’t want to sit next to someone who felt the need to chat about “where we were going”, "what we were going to do when we got there” and  “why we decided to travel by train”.   But, I forgot my MP3  so I didn’t have my music as a buffer,  I didn’t have time to make a snack at home and  a hot dog from the Café Car wasn’t quite getting it.  So I’m in a funk, a misty, foggy  funk.  So here I am – oh by the way no one is sitting next to me, at least not yet – passing Greenwich, Ct, Port Chester, NY,  the Bronx, and into New York.  Next stop Trenton, NJ and then the Conductor says “Philadelphia, 30^th Street Station" and my mind goes in overdrive.  Images are swimming around my head of my father  (he was born in Philadelphia, and lived there through his early 20’s),  images of him walking  home from work with his long stride from the bus stop to our house, most nights whistling, waiting for one or all of his children to hear him and come running.  I was always looking for him hoping I would be the one to be picked up, and twirled into the breeze and set down gently with a kiss on the forehead.   My dad always carried a lot of Philly with him including his love of  Scrapple -  Scrapple is a food that is made from scraps of meat from boiling  a hogs head, or pig knuckles .  The scraps are mixed with seasonings and cornmeal and in our home was served for breakfast with eggs.  A very traditional meal in Philadelphia  -  and he made his own with the help of my Mother.  Mom would be the “helper” she would chop the onions, boil and season the meat, and pull the meat off the designated pig part.  She would grind the mixture and pass it on to Dad for patting and molding – but Dad made the scrapple.  Mom would be so anxious to do it exactly as Dad instructed, that it became a chore, so anxious to please, to be praised by Daddy.  Well I never learned to make Scrapple, because I always associated it with stress but I did learn to love it taste, its texture, and its mating with eggs and grits for breakfast. 

Dad and Mom’s Scrapple

   4    Pigs knuckles    Or  1 Hog’s Head

    1    Pound lean pork

    1 lg Onion, stuck with 3 whole Cloves

    3 qt Water

    1 1/2 tsp Salt

    1 tsp Pepper

    1 tsp Ground sage

    3 cups Cornrmeal

                       

Place pigs knuckles or Hogs Head in a large pot; add pork meat, onion, and water.  Cook slowly, covered, for 2 1/2 hours; drain, reserve broth.

Chill meat and remove some of the fat; separate meat from bones. Grind Meat in grinder or chop until very fine. Place meat in a kettle with 2 qts of the reserved broth.  Add salt, pepper and sage; bring to a boil.  In a separate bowl combine cornmeal with remaining 1 qt of reserved broth and stir into boiling mixture. Cook over medium heat until thickened, stirring constantly.  Pour into 2 9 x 12 loaf pans and chill overnight.  Cut into slices and cook in hot Frying Pan on medium high heat about 5 minutes on each side. Serve with eggs and grits.

At My Mother's Knee - Cooking, Crying and Rejoicing with my Mother

Spring. As a child, I looked forward to the change of seasons, because the change would mean new food choices, new recipes and a cheerier, brighter Mom.  At the first sign of Spring, the blooming of the Forsythia, a marked change would come over my Mother.  She would fill the house with two or three vases of freshly cut Forsythia and begin washing, ironing and rehanging the curtains - cracking the windows just a bit  to "let the fresh air in".  She would begin buying and storing her food choices for "Easter Dinner".  She didn't go out and do one big shopping for this event because her budget wouldn't allow it.  She would buy something each week and put it in the back of the cupboard saying "this is for Easter".    Our meals were lighter, gone were the stews and soups and casseroles of  winter, replaced by  lamb chops with roasted potatoes and fresh peas, veal chops with creamed potatoes, fish cakes with asparagus, chicken poppycosh, stuffed veal breast and her specialty "Roasted Leg of Lamb".  Mom would cook to the  voice of John Gambling on the radio and the music of WQXR.  She would come in from work dead tired, put her apron on and go directly into the kitchen with me following behind asking questions. "Why do you take the seeds out of the peppers"?  "Why do you cut off the end of the asparagus"? "Why do you have do wash the Chicken?"  and she always had the same answer "Because".  She was happiest in her kitchen, paring and cleaning her vegetables, sauteing  or roasting her meat choices, and waiting, always waiting for her Husband to come home from work.  For this was when her day really began.  We did not eat dinner until Daddy came home and then we would all sit around the table and enjoy the food my mother had so lovingly prepared.

Elaine's Lamb Chops with Creamed Potatoes

Lamb shoulder chops
Olive Oil

Fresh Garlic Cloves minced

salt
black pepper
ground thyme

Rub the Lamb Chops with garlic, salt, pepper and ground thyme.  Sprinkle Olive Oil on top and broil for 6 - 8 minutes on each side

Creamed Potatoes

6 tablespoons butter

     1/4 cup all-purpose flour

     2 teaspoon salt

     2 teaspoon of pepper

     2 cups whole milk

     1 tsp. Paprika 

Cover potatoes with water and boil until.  In another pot, melt butter, Stir in the flour, salt and pepper until smooth. Gradually add milk. Bring to a gentle boil; cook and stir for 2 minutes or until thickened. Add cooked potatoes and toss gently, sprinkle with paprika, taste and add additional salt and pepper if necessary.