30 Day Writer's Challenge | Day 6

My Grandmama was no Paula Deen, but that's OK by me. I am Rosemary's Granddaughter!

Aside from holidays when everyone contributed to our expanding waistline, any food my Grandmama cooked for me involved removing foil to get to the goods. And when I say "Grandmama cooked" what I really mean is "Grandpa Jack heated up."

Oh he made a mean enchilada too. I will never forget the flavor of Mexican dinner from a foil tray coming hot from the oven. It was a complete novelty for me and I couldn't understand why someone would put so much work into making enchiladas from scratch when they could just buy a frozen dinner?

I remember going grocery shopping with my mom and looking in awe at the frozen dinner in a box selections as if I were staring into a picture window at the Wonka Factory. I knew what the enchiladas tasted like, because for some reason that is all that Grandmama & Grandpa Jack ever had in their freezer, but I had an idea that the other items tasted different. Better even.

One Saturday my sister Sarah, cousin Amber and I where at Grandmama & Jack's for the day when lunch time rolled around. I'm sure there was a conversation with Grandmama about what we wanted to eat and although I would like to think there were options, I know better. Macaroni and cheese or nacho chips, because there were always nacho chips at Grandmama's house!

Moments later we found ourselves sitting quietly at the dining room table in front of two bowls. Bowl number one, cooked macaroni. Bowl number two, powdered cheese. No. Joke.

We knew what macaroni and cheese was supposed to look like and this was not it. We were young, Amber and I were about eight which means that Sarah was around six. We had no business being in the kitchen so we had no idea how to make macaroni and cheese and apparently neither did Grandmama. She walked back into the living room and we just stared at the two bowls like they were aliens. Eventually we did try to mix the two together, but again, what eight year old knows we were missing two key ingredients...milk & butter!

We were starving and if I remember correctly, laughing out of our minds. We were clueless.

Moments later Uncle John and (now) Aunt Beth showed up with fried chicken. Being rescued never tasted so good!

Some times I wonder if Grandmama called Uncle John and asked him to bring food. Because she knew she had no business in the kitchen and her granddaughters would starve if we didn't receive nourishment soon. That just seems like something she would do...right after she painted her shoes gold. No. Joke.

I've since tried to reconnect with the nostalgia of those good times by eating a frozen enchilada meal for dinner. It just doesn't quite taste the same. Maybe because I wasn't watching the Home Shopping Network or listening to the Weather Channel while I ate. Somehow I don't think that would make a difference.

Mom, thank you for making me real food.
Thank you for letting me spend time with Grandmama & Jack
Even though I almost died.

Grandmama, thank you for calling Uncle John, if you really did.
Uncle John, thank you for bringing fried chicken.