Next month my Grandma, Zelma Roberts, will turn 98 years old. My love of cooking started as a little girl when I would spend summer days hanging out in my Grandma’s kitchen watching every move she made. Afterwards, she would send me off to play with my own supply of mix matched pots and pans and a heavy dose of imagination.
Grandma had a buffet in her kitchen/diningroom that had drawers and cabinets. On top of the buffet was a punch bowl set. There wasn’t a shelf, cabinet or window ledge in her house that wasn’t lined with trinkets, what nots and Knick knacks. The buffet is what held my interest. That is where she kept a stack of homemade aprons.
Nothing fascinated me more than to watch Grandma piddle in her kitchen. First thing she did every morning was walk to the buffet and pull out two aprons; one for me and one for her.
The wooden house my grandparents lived in was very old and it creaked when you walked in some parts of the house. The kitchen was small with a table right in the middle along with a washing machine or dryer. I can’t remember which appliance it was or if it even worked. I just remember there was a towel that stayed on top of it with a homemade pecan pie cooling by the window. Oh, and she also had a little crocheted dress for her bottle of Palmolive that she kept by the kitchen sink.
Grandma and Grandpa’s house wasn’t air conditioned except for one small window unit. There were three bedrooms. My grandparents had a summer bedroom which had the only window unit. The winter bedroom had the only heater. The third bedroom was for grandkids and it had no air or heater; only a window and a blanket. There was a long front porch that had at least six rocking chairs and a swing. The front porch is where everyone visited regardless of how hot or cold it was.
Grandma taught me to cook a lot of meals from scratch and she always had the most patient, kind spirit while doing it. She didn’t really explain anything, she just ‘cooked’ and let me watch. She never measured anything but would explain by saying – ‘you’ll just know’ how much to add. That never made sense, but I eventually learned that it wasn’t a recipe she followed but seasoned according to how she knew Grandpa liked his food.
Jelly making season was the best. There was nothing sweeter than to receive a jar of Grandma’s homemade mayhaw jelly. And of course, the Mason jar would always be dressed with a crochet top secured by a piece of red yarn!
I learned a lot from just observing Grandma while she worked. She never worked outside of the home nor learned to drive a vehicle. I could fill up a page sharing memories of her growing up. There is so much knowledge, life lessons and wisdom that can be learned from our elders that can never be learned in a classroom or on the job. My first grandchild is due within three weeks and I hope I can be just ½ of the grandma to my granddaughter that my grandma has been to me. Happy Birthday, Grandma and I can’t wait for you to meet your soon to be newest great-great-grand.
