Suppertime at Grandma Annie's: A Light Approach and Plenty of Raw Vegetables
March is a funny month in Wisconsin. You never know about the weather. Will it be winter or spring?
But there comes a time, about mid-month, when the weather turns toward warm and the birds of spring are back to battle for position with the birds of winter. The juncos stick around a while longer, and the cardinals become aggressive as they guard their turf. The finches trill merrily at all hours of the day, and the red wing blackbirds cling to reeds and tall grass and join the song with a raspier trill.
Jerry, my neighbor, continues to burn wood, filling the air with that pungent aroma I remember from childhood. Dusk and the gathering night draw us inside to putter about in the warm kitchen.
My kitchen is small, not an eat-in kitchen at all, not like Grandma Annie's. Hers was truly the heart of the home, the comfort zone, the place we all felt secure and loved.
She was not an exotic cook at all. It is Grandma Annie from whom I derive my notion that it is not what you make but how you make it, and her meals were always made with love for the process, for the food and for the people who would eat it.
Annie and Mémere subscribed to the theory that large meals should be eaten early in the day, and light meals at night. So evening meals, which we called supper, were usually soup, salad and cold meat sandwiches.
Annie would set out plates of chicken or ham or turkey and various cheeses along with spreads and pickle or tomato slices. She adopted the "build your own sandwich" approach long ago.
Always on her table was a plate of raw carrots, celery and radishes. As a result, I prefer sandwiches eaten with these crudités.
I bought the radishes above because they still held dirt from the ground in which they were planted. That allowed me to cling to the idea that they were very fresh.
The radishes are very lovely and piquant, and they reminded me of a shiva with their root stems pointing this way and that.
But there comes a time, about mid-month, when the weather turns toward warm and the birds of spring are back to battle for position with the birds of winter. The juncos stick around a while longer, and the cardinals become aggressive as they guard their turf. The finches trill merrily at all hours of the day, and the red wing blackbirds cling to reeds and tall grass and join the song with a raspier trill.
Jerry, my neighbor, continues to burn wood, filling the air with that pungent aroma I remember from childhood. Dusk and the gathering night draw us inside to putter about in the warm kitchen.
My kitchen is small, not an eat-in kitchen at all, not like Grandma Annie's. Hers was truly the heart of the home, the comfort zone, the place we all felt secure and loved.
She was not an exotic cook at all. It is Grandma Annie from whom I derive my notion that it is not what you make but how you make it, and her meals were always made with love for the process, for the food and for the people who would eat it.
Annie and Mémere subscribed to the theory that large meals should be eaten early in the day, and light meals at night. So evening meals, which we called supper, were usually soup, salad and cold meat sandwiches.
Annie would set out plates of chicken or ham or turkey and various cheeses along with spreads and pickle or tomato slices. She adopted the "build your own sandwich" approach long ago.
Always on her table was a plate of raw carrots, celery and radishes. As a result, I prefer sandwiches eaten with these crudités.
I bought the radishes above because they still held dirt from the ground in which they were planted. That allowed me to cling to the idea that they were very fresh.
The radishes are very lovely and piquant, and they reminded me of a shiva with their root stems pointing this way and that.
Comments
Don't sent it our way.
Maybe the northern tundra is not so bad after all...
In Wisconsin, we once had snow on May 9.
It nevers lasts long this late in the season.
I feel for our East Coast blogger friends.
But yes, Tanna, the connections are wonderful!
What an eye!
What a camera!
How do you do it???
It's just my kitchen situation, Christine, nothing brilliant on my part.
But thank you!
Annd
But it is warm and breezy out, so my laundry went out on the line today to soak up that spring air and bring inside later.
I clearly have spring fever as I'm trying really hard to not plan my vegetable plot. Hmmm...radishes now must be added to the list. French ones I think.
Oh, me, too, Kristen. Really. More so than any other year.
Oh, Anne, we've had snow, too, as Erika notes below - almost gone though! It's windy but the sky is mostly blue now - very March! I love it.
Erika, that sounds good. Then I can raid your garden.
I love the smell of clothing and sheets that hang outside. Oh, it's one of life's small joys!
Radishes are very well loved around here.
Love is in the air around here! The birds are kissing, the ducks are mating like crazy, and the hens are being pestered constantly by Albie, the rooster! Yup, it's spring!
I appreciate your kind words, Cyn.
Sorry I've been MIA lately — much work Here it is 10:30 and I just got home.
Please forgive me, all of you, for not visiting your sites much lately. I hope it lets up soon here!
But I craved radishes...
When I think of what we ate...
Those radishes (or redishes, as my mother would say) look wonderful!
I saw the first 'breakfast' radishes at the market last week. They were still too expensive to buy but this week should be good.
Our winter came back and I am sooooo anxious for spring!
Thanks, Ronnie, I've sort of been on a blogging break lately. Not losing enthusiasm, just steam!
And I have not seen it since.