I find it especially weird that a lot of people don’t remember their childhood but I remember practically every moment. The other day I was in the grocery store and I came across a jar of Grandma’s molasses. I said to myself, wow it’s been a long time since I’ve even seen this. So I bought it. Mind you I’m on a diet but I decided to have a couple of spoons of molasses in low fat milk instead of a meal. This is something I used to do when I was a kid but for a different reason. So after having a swig, I started having flashbacks.
When I was younger, I used to spend a lot of time with my grandparents down in North Carolina. They lived very close to the earth. By that I mean everything that they ate was homegrown. One of the favorite things that I loved was buttered biscuits and molasses. I can still remember seeing the steam coming from a freshly opened hot homemade biscuit. Dipping your biscuit in a small part of molasses and wolfing it down was my version of nirvana.
I also remembered my grandmother canning fruits (and a various assortment of other things). I remember asking myself why do they call it canning when you’re putting stuff in jars?
One of my other favorite things was the way my grandmother used to make corn off the cob. She had this tool, for lack of a better description, that was essentially a piece of wood with an opening in it. This opening had a metal blade in it and it was used to strip the kernels from the corn. I can still hear her humming as she was preparing a batch for dinner.she would stir-fry this in a pan with butter and it would be so frigging good. Now that I’m thinking about it, maybe I’ll make some myself soon.

So, there I was, in my kitchen with my molasses milk, which I was having in a mason jar, souvenir courtesy of Joe’s Crab Shack, in complete awe of how many memories one sip could bring.

One thought on “Grandma’s hands

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