Generally, I try to cook most of our meals because there are so many preservatives in prepared food today. Also, I try to frequent restaurants that really do cook for themselves. Not only that but I ask for real butter. For me, it’s the best, especially on a warm biscuit with some local honey.
Being a scratch cook happened for me a long, long time ago when I was about seven. That’s when my daddy would leave for work, tell me what to cook for him that night and return home to dinner on the table. Without telling you how old I am, let me also say that we made biscuits or cornbread everyday and gravy didn’t come in a packet.
Salad was picked out of the garden with tomatoes that most never experience today. I’d walk out into the garden with salt and pepper mounded in my hand. The ripest tomato called to me. It was warm, fresh and without poison, totally organic. Taking a wonderful, satisfying first bite, I’d then apply the salt and pepper by dipping my tomato into it. You haven’t lived until you’re able to do that.
I got lost for a moment. My father and I hunted for food although I didn’t like killing and didn’t. But I knew how to field dress an animal. That does date me, doesn’t it? We ate from the woods, our chicken house, small farm, fruit trees that daddy still has and from our garden. That’s where I learned to cook from scratch. Most children today don’t even know where the hamburger they eat comes from.
Remembering some of the times we had then brings back a smile but some of those times are better forgotten too, unless of course, it’s a ripe watermelon or a red, tasty tomato.