When I was a child my mother would let us pick our birthday dinner. For many years, my pick was always the same- her chicken crepes. A couple of times, she would try to talk me into something easier. I always refused to budge from the dinner preference and she would finally agree. Until I started making them years later, I never realized how hard I made her work.
The chicken that is available in the stores today is different than my childhood. Cheap rotisserie chicken to quickly shred was not available. Mom first had to bake or boil the chicken, cool it, then shred and prepare it, as well as make, flip and stuff the crepes. There were often 8+ people around the dinner table so that equaled a lot of hard work.
I wonder sometimes what my kids will tell their children about my cooking. Will it be the cross country breakfasts on Fridays? Perhaps the greasy eggs and bacon ritual before the high school football games? I really don't know butI hope that whatever they choose will be pleasant. I hope that they try to mimic the favorite dishes and tell their family of when and why it is important to them.
My dogs study my every move when I work in the kitchen. I swear that I can work on the family evening meal for an hour and they politely watch, but if their ingredients come out of frig (even before the bowls are placed on the counter) then-- it is darn exciting! They are so easy to please. Anyone who thinks that dogs cannot tell time has never been late serving their dinner.
I think that it is because I am feeling old that I share the family history more and more. I hope to pass down history through food, or pictures, or words. This weekend I will get out the deck of cards and tell the boys about Georgetown Lake, hot dogs, sauerkraut and boiled potatoes -and playing gin rummy with my dad.
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