Cinnamon Toast

I love reading other blogger nostalgia.

The passing down from generation to generation.

The warm feeling you get when you picture the family gathered around food and memories.

I thought what would it look like if I tried to write like that?

Well here it is.

My mom, whom I loved dearly, occasionally made me TV dinners in the oven.
It was way before the invention of the microwave. TV dinners from
the oven taste so much better than microwaved ones.

Mom didn’t cook much.

Normal fare at our family table (which turned to a single parent family table
when I was about 12) was a can of Campbell soup and a sandwich comprised
of whatever salad spread the store may have had on sale that week.

Mom could make some mean fried grits and peanut butter fudge. That was
the extent of her culinary talents, and she never taught me. To this day
I can never get my grits to fry properly or my peanut butter fudge to set.
Maybe it is a subliminal message of me wanting to make my Mom do something great…
or maybe a subliminal message that I don’t want to be like Mom? (Don’t
get me wrong, I loved my Mom but I do want to be honest.)

I do remember a bit of my grandmother who died when I was very young.
She cooked, but I was so young I don’t remember what she cooked.
The only thing I can remember was the cinnamon toast I used to
beg for on Saturday mornings if I had spent the Friday night before.

I can imagine a ton of warm memories with cinnamon toast and Grandma.

Well mom passed on and I married.

I continued the traditions of soup, sandwich and TV dinners, for a while.
I didn’t know how to cook and didn’t have a notion of what fun cooking
could be.

I can thank my “mother in law”, whom I also loved dearly, for one day.
She has also passed, and the incident seems sort of mean but it was a blessing in disguise.

I came to visit and “mom” was in the kitchen peeling
potatoes. My sister in laws were sitting around and talking when
I was asked to help peel potatoes.

I had never peeled a potato so I took it to task to at least try. “Mom”
began to make fun of me as I peeled away about half the potato.

Then suddenly she said. “Sue, you need to cook us lunch.”

She got my sister in laws together and they packed up the potatoes and what ever else
they wanted for lunch that day ( I don’t really remember maybe it was hamburger?),
and we all went to my house at the time.
They knew all I would have at home might be bread and sandwich spread.

I was scared stiff and crying the whole time.

When we got to my house, they all sat at my kitchen table and watched me
as I cried and fried. Then…. They ate it all.

After that fateful day I decided I needed to learn to cook. I decided
I might even like to cook.

I went to the library and gathered up an
armful of cookbooks and started my self taught cooking adventure.

It has been uphill ever since (with and occasional dip which is part of the fun ). I even opened and ran a bed and breakfast
many years later. It is funny but breakfast is not one of my favorite meals.

Warm fuzzies….Except for cinnamon toast.

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8 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. sher
    Apr 05, 2007 @ 14:13:18

    Awww. What a nice story! And if you ran a Bed & Breakfast, I know you mastered breakfast!

    Reply

  2. coffeepot
    Apr 05, 2007 @ 14:21:37

    Yes, Sher I mastered breakfast.

    lol…I was wondering what in the world someone might comment on such a weird story but it is true and Sher you are so neat.

    Love to ya.

    Reply

  3. Susan from Food "Blogga"
    Apr 06, 2007 @ 14:07:41

    I love to write and read about food and family. This is a truly touching story. Thanks so much for sharing it with us.

    Reply

  4. Sue (coffeepot)
    Apr 07, 2007 @ 09:03:05

    Thank you Susan.

    Your stories about nan was the inspiration.

    I tried to comment on nan but my connection was giving me a fit at your site for some reason.

    Love to ya.

    Reply

  5. Katie
    Apr 08, 2007 @ 15:21:33

    After my younger brother was in school my mother decided to get a job. (She’d never worked, before) She waitressed at the local restaurant and if she worked on Sunday my father had to make Sunday Dinner. TV dinners in the oven!
    And the bit with your mil does seem mean – she could have offered to show you….

    Reply

  6. Sue
    Apr 08, 2007 @ 18:51:33

    Yeah Katie she could have offered but I think she thought she was teaching me a lesson by not showing me..or helping.

    Looking back I can laugh about it now. At the time I was a sobbing mess.

    Reply

  7. Kristen
    Apr 13, 2007 @ 21:24:39

    I don’t know what it was about this post that brought tears to my eyes, but it did. Such a touching post! Thanks for sharing this with us.

    Reply

  8. Amanda
    Apr 25, 2007 @ 15:16:00

    This made me smile and feel sad. Most of my family cook, but my mum left when I was young (we’re good friends now) so it was really my dad who taught me to cook. It is amazing how memories from your childhood have a weird way of creeping up on you when you’re blogging. Brave and great that you shared it.

    Reply

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