Like Mother Used to Make

  A personal story...

  My mother was the strongest person I have ever known. She was diagnosed with lupus when I was three years old, and lived with it for fifteen years when she passed away from cancer, five days before my senior prom.
 
  My mother was my best friend. She was a beautiful, classy, southern woman. I never knew she was in so much pain. I saw it, but did not understand. I often wish I could go back and change things. If there was one more day, one more moment that I could spend with my mother, it would be with her in the kitchen.

  "Like mother used to make" NO ONE can ever make food the way moms make. It's like mothers have this magic power to make foods that make us feel good. That's what comfort food is...mom's cooking.

   My mother used to cook almost every night, no matter how bad she felt. I regret not helping more. I regret not learning those recipes that were never written on paper, but stored in her beautiful mind.

   Fried Chicken and Brown Gravy. Like I said before, my mother was a southern woman. Fried chicken was a regular meal in our home. She didn't bread it with the traditional flour-egg-bread crumb. She just used flour. Just flour! Yet it was crispy, juicy and perfect every single time. She made gravy from the crispy chicken bits and would stand patiently, gently whisking the gravy until it was so dark it was almost black. Often, when I would help, the whisking would be my job. That was so I could sneak tastes of the gravy!

  With a culinary degree and years of experience, I can not make fried chicken and brown gravy like my mother used to make. I have tried multiple times since her death and can never get it right. I am so sad that I never sat and learned the entire process with her. Yet somehow it makes that dish that much more amazing. The mystery. The fact that I can close my eyes and almost taste it, and the fact that I never again will taste it the same way.

  I suppose I should end this personal post by suggesting a challenge. I challenge you to cook with that one person whose food makes you happy. If it is your mother, father, grandmother or friend. Take time to ask them teach you that one dish that you close your eyes and dream of. If I could spend one more moment with my mother, we would be wearing our aprons, listening to AC/DC and making fried chicken and brown gravy.

Mom and I, one year before she died. (Notice I am wearing an apron!)