I spent a good part of my childhood/ adulthood with my Grandma Beulah Mae Thompson from Kinston, North Carolina. My Grandma was The Big Mama of the family. When she left North Carolina for California, she brought all her Southern values with her. I love that fact that my Grandma’s appearance was classic Grandma. She was short in height, with a round circumference, and donned the sweetest, most genuine smile one could imagine. It was rare to see her with out her house coat or Moo Moo on and even rarer to see her without an apron tied around her body. She was as much Diva as she was Domestic. Come through on a Sunday morning and you’d see Beulah Mae in a two piece skirt suit or dress with matching shoes, clutch bag, gloves, wig, hat and glam accessories to put the finishing touch on the look.
The kitchen was her sanctuary and every Sunday, Sunday Dinner was cracking. When Grandma whipped up any of her southern dishes she moved like poetry in motion, shaking one seasoning after another. A handful of this, a few shakes of that, nothing was ever measured yet the flavor in her food remained consistent. Oh, and desserts????!!! Let’s talk about Sweet Potato pie, Peach Cobbler with home made crust, Lemon Cake drizzled with a zesty glaze, White Cake, Coconut Cake, 7-up cake, Banana Pudding to name just a few.
It may sound like I’m bragging and I am but… I’m mourning also because my generation (the X’ers) is the last of generations to experience a real, cookie baking, kitchen throw down, Grandmother.
Grandma’s and Big Mamma’s have been replaced by the Na Na’s. The Na Na’s are a cooler, sexier upgrade than the Original version. Na Na’s don’t have time to cook and have traded family treasured recipes for box meals and trips to the Drive Through. Where Grandma’s door was always open to the grand kids, Na Na will quickly remind you she is hanging out with the girls and you got to go home to your Mamma! Na Na ain’t baking no cookies. She buying them packaged at the grocery store.
I promise I’m not “hating” on the Na Na’s. I support change and revision to the role of Grandma in our society, however part of this wheel should never be re-invented. It wasn’t until I became an adult that I realized what was really happening in the kitchen. When me and my Grandma was snapping peas or baking a cake together we were bonding and building trust in one another. She patiently listened to my words as if I was giving the greatest American speech of all times and I soaked in all of her infinite wisdom about life. Grandma’s kitchen was therapeutic, Godly, a safe haven to let your guard down and be You. Food represented the puzzle pieces, and the time we spent together was glue that kept the puzzle strong. I cherish all of my memories with my Grandma and when she died, the only possession of hers I wanted was the aprons she cooked in. Merely old material to the unknowing eye, but a priceless goldmine for me. When I cook in my kitchen and put on Grandma’s apron, I feel like she in there with me patiently guiding my hand.
If your Grandma is the BOMB like mine, I wanna hear from you!
I’m listening…Holla at ya Gyrl !
Godspeed ~Latoya~
