“If you can read, you can cook.”
My grandmother died this morning. If they looked at her medical statistics and what she ate, sanctimonious government types would pronounce themselves unsurprised and indeed would not-so-secretly be thinking with officious disapproval, “She asked for it.”
She was highly hypertensive (I once took her blood pressure. When I told her it was 170/125, she responded enthusiastically, “Oh, that’s GOOD! Isn’t it!) and her cholesterol was above 300. Her favorite four foods were salt, mayonnaise, cheese, and bacon. Whenever she ordered chicken salad, she asked for a side of mayonnaise because restaurants never used enough for her taste. Her spaghetti gravy is unreproducible because no one in the younger generations can bring themselves to use as much fat and salt as she did. I remember watching her taste it and say “That’s not quite right.” She went to the refrigerator, got out the bacon fat jar, and added a generous serving spoon of fat to the already quite fatted gravy–then it was up to spec.
She had no interest in the modern hydration fad and no truck with water. She drank a few cups of tea a day and the occasional libation.
No, sanctimonious health types would not be surprised by her death. I’m not surprised by her death either but for another reason: she was 107 and 3/4 years old.
Married the day after the Crash, Nana took up housekeeping during the Depression. “I didn’t know how to cook, ” she said. “I lived at home until I was married, and Mama did all of the cooking. The only thing I ever made was candy because I liked to eat it. But after I married, I had to learn to cook. It wasn’t hard: if you can read, you can cook.”
She was a very good reader. Her birthday cakes would embarrass many a wedding cake. Her teas were legendary. Her cannelloni remains unequaled. And her advice remains sound, “If you can read, you can cook.” And when something doesn’t taste quite right . . . it probably just needs some fat.
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Susan
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Jackson
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jessica lee
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rcarney
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Jody
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RF2000
