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Meals are grand with loving ingredient
(by Christine Thome - September 03, 2009)
BEYOND MY CONTROL, BY CHRISTINE THOME
Meals are grand with loving ingredient
"Nonee doesn't use spaghetti sauce in a jar," said one of my twin daughters as she watched me make lasagna for dinner later that night. "She makes her own baloney sauce."
"Bolognese," I corrected her. "And I'm sure it's very good, but I don't have time to make my own sauce, because I have to get you to basketball practice, your sister to soccer and make it to at least half of your brother's football game, all within the next two hours."
I made my own spaghetti sauce. Once. After hours of peeling tomatoes, measuring spices and watching the pot simmer, my family declared it just "OK" and requested that I go back to the jar sauce I had been using for years.
I've learned that, if I want a really good homemade sauce, I'm better off picking up the phone and making a reservation at my favorite Italian restaurant.
My children are very spoiled, because both of their grandmothers, lovingly referred to as Nonee and Grammy, are incredible cooks. Any family dinner, whether it's Thanksgiving or just a spur-of-the-moment Tuesday night invite, is always filled with more food than even a professional competitive eater could conquer.
The amazing part is that, while I always go home five pounds heavier, my mother and mother-in-law continue to maintain their beautiful figures. Maybe the skinny genes will kick in soon. I can only hope.
This summer, my twin daughters spent a week at my parents' home in Michigan. My mom fondly referred to their time together as "Camp Nonee."
During Camp Nonee, the girls and my mom went for pedicures and manicures, beaded bracelets, necklaces, and anklets and painted artistic creations in my mother's art studio. My father made sure they wouldn't forget their experience by taking them all out to dinner and ordering the fish -- complete with the head and eyes intact.
While they will never forget the fish dinner, they will also never let me forget all the wonderful meals my mother made them. From scratch.
"Nonee made us French crepes for breakfast. She put fresh strawberries and powdered sugar on them," one daughter said after she asked me what was available for breakfast and I replied anything that she could toast or pour.
"I had crepes from a street vendor when I was in France," my oldest daughter replied, referring to the week she spent in Europe with her language class. "When they said it though, it sounded like they were saying 'crap.'"
"Get your fresh, hot 'craps'!" she giggled in a French accent.
"And that's what mine would taste like if I tried to make crepes," I replied.
"Nonee made us fruit smoothies every day too," the other twin said. "And she doesn't make fajitas like you do. Hers sizzle like at the Mexican restaurants."
I soon realized that I could hire Emeril Lagasse to prepare a fabulous meal and secretly pass it off as my own, and my children would still say it's not as good as Nonee's or Grammy's.
What is their secret? Why are their meals so much better than mine? I follow their recipes exactly, and yet my meals never appeal to my family as much as theirs do. Are they forgetting to tell me a key ingredient?
Just as I was about to throw in the towel and resort to serving my family meals of cereal and dog food, I realized what I was missing.
Nonee and Grammy do have a very special ingredient that they put in everything they make. It's an ingredient that grandmothers seem to have in abundance, and it makes even boxed macaroni and cheese taste extra special.
What is that special ingredient?
It's really very simple.
It's love. Lots and lots of love.
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