The big show is over. The merrymaking, at times leisurely and sometimes breakneck, is winding down. We still have New Year’s Day to come where I’ll get the distinct pleasure of force-feeding the Littles and poor ole Russ their annual dose of black-eyed peas and turnip greens. It’s not as fun as it used to be when there was wailing involved. I believe Russ has resigned himself to the yearly luncheon where eating for luck is like a real life game of Double Dog Dare. The Littles are old enough to know I’ll keep adding “fine” fare to the menu if they complain too much, all of which they must sample.
I’m a good mother, really. I’ll make a pone of cornbread to go with the peas and greens. There’ll be plenty of sweet tea. I won’t get cabbage involved in the meal at all, unless I get to yearning for my grandma’s old coleslaw recipe. The pear salad will be a showstopper with its dollop of mayonnaise and sprinkles of cheese mounded in each fruity center. Add some deviled eggs and something suspended in gelatin and I’ve got a fine New Year’s Day meal that no one else in the house will touch beyond the obligatory tasting.
We’ll have something “good” for supper, but lunch on New Year’s Day is an homage to bygone days served in my grandmother’s earthenware, which I use regularly. It may be a humble meal, but it’s one rich in both tradition and flavor that I suspect is going to die with me since I’m 0 for 4 in progeny appreciation of these down home delights.
What traditional dishes do you serve, Gentle Reader, that your darlings snurl their pert little noses at? Surely, I’m not the only mom who “tortures” her family with “disgusting foods from the Great Depression”. Chime in!