The Meat & Potatoes Of It

Everyone has a food salvation. The giant Oatmeal Creme Pie waiting for my shrunken self in 'Honey I Shrunk The Kids' is a pipe dream. In this 'life size' existence, my savory salvation is my mama's pot roast. When it comes to that recipe I am all too willing to babysit. I can never bring myself to wander too far away from its intoxicating aroma. I happily stand nearby waiting to oblige a spoon that may beg me to dip it in the gravy.

Having Italian & Sicilian blood running through my veins means that the kitchen is the cornerstone of the home. Don't you love its memories? Family & food, if we're lucky in life, are on that short list of things that are with us since birth. When they converge together it's a recipe for sustenance. We feel comforted. Our spirits & bellies are sated. Over time we develop an arsenal of food déjà vu that we're just one bite away from reconnecting with at a moments notice.

Every time I see mashed potatoes I am back in my Grandma's kitchen on that Thanksgiving day before we sat down to dinner. I'm stealthy rounding the corner, silently lifting the pot lid, removing the flattened butter wrapper atop the velvety volcano & revealing a pool of melted butter held captive. My finger can't scoop up a dollop large enough to suit my fancy so I devise a plan to circle the house & sneak back once thrice more. It's the "Scoop. Eat. Repeat." method that's ingrained in me. (It kicks into overdrive when butter and/or gravy are involved. How about you?)

May you all be blessed to spend Thanksgiving sopping up the gravy on your plate with a slice of bread & sopping up the joy in the room with a smile on your face.