I’ve been traveling a lot lately … back and forth to East Texas … farm … family … food … friendly cows. It wears a person out! This past weekend I was visiting with my mother-in-law as we reminisced over the first time we met.
A quarter of a century ago Cary Efurd walked into my life. From the get-go, he told me story after story of his hometown, growing up with hundreds of cousins, watching out for his brothers (who he would often get into trouble). Every single time he mentioned his family or his hometown, he would say what a good cook his mother was. “Mom’s pot roast is the best in the world!” Well, the first time I met my soon-to-be mother-in-law, I had her world famous pot roast. Cary was right, it was REALLY good and that put me in a pickle.
Somewhere in my upbringing I failed the “cook like your grandma” lesson. I reminded my mother-in-law of our first encounter. I told her when I tested her pot roast, I said to myself, “This is really good. I probably need to take cooking lessons.” Try as I might over the years, I have never been able to get past the blueberry drip, the bloody chicken, and the burned toast and coffee episodes. It’s now part of the family history. Oh what a legacy!
Then came the bombshell … my mother-in-law, sweet as can be, said, “If you want to be a country girl, you have to cook and cook a lot. I didn’t want to, but I did it anyway, it was a necessity.”
So I must confess, if I’m going to be a real country girl, I have to get in the kitchen, break out the recipes, and just do it (like Nike says). Yes, I can bring home the bacon, but I sure can’t fry it up in a pan. Passing off store bought food as my own only goes so far … oh, well! I’m sure there’s still hope for me becoming a great chef.
“It is never too late to be what you might have been.” ― George Eliot
Tagged: east texas, mothers
