This original has been sold. Purchase prints at Fine Art America.
I got straight D’s in Home Ec, back in the days when girls were required to take cooking and sewing and boys were required to take shop class. Back in my school, girls could not take shop and boys could not take home ec even if they wanted to. The good old days weren’t all that good in that respect.
Anyway, back to the D’s. It wasn’t that I can’t cook (even though it’s not my favorite pasttime), its that I am a visual cook. I can see how much oregano to add to the spaghetti sauce by the color (even then I was the artist.) Besides, I could care less how many teaspoons go into a tablespoon because I have the whole set of measuring spoons. You can buy a set at the dollar store even today, so I imagine measuring spoons were only a few cents back in the day.
Besides that, the men in my family have always been the better cooks, but for some reason, the kitchen was off limits to all males on Thanksgiving. Many an unsuspecting newly married in-law would catch the business end of my grandma’s wooden spoon across his knuckles when he innocently tried to lift the lid on her orange sweet potato pot. Granny was vicious.
My grandfather would cook every Sunday and he made the meatloaf and fried chicken in the world. He got up at sunrise and mixed his spices together in a jar that he labeled “chicken spice.” Every time I asked him what spices he used, he would chuckle. He took that recipe to his grave and I haven’t had a great drumstick since.
BTW – his chicken was better than that guy from Kentucky who also kept his spices a secret.
Here’s to a warm, safe and happy Thanksgiving. And for heaven’s sake pass your recipes down to the next generation.