![]() |
remember the way grandmom cooked? Or mom? |
| " Down Home Cook'in" Grandma's apron strings; adrift in the breeze. Her favorite old apron; hanged down to her knees. She had a dimpled smile; and a sunshine grin. As she stood there a while; we all filtered in. The kitchen aroma sat us right down. Homemade bisquits on the stove. Nothing but smiles and sizzling sounds; As into the plates we dove. Mountians of mashed potatoes; with gravy running down. And fried chicken caused us; to eat without a sound. Collard greens and fresh okra; that seemed to melt in your mouth. Corn on the cob soaking; with fresh made butter from their cow. Preserves and jams; to go with cornbread. Then peach cobbler came; and still nothing said. "My, my grandma; How do you do it so well?" " Go ask grandpa, cause I'll never tell!" " Come back tommorow; pulled pork and potato salad." "Cole slaw, tea and surely; you'll never want to leave this house." Down home cookin' turns that; frown back to a smile. After dinner we just sat; and talked about good times awhile. S A Gibbins 2008 March |