brisket

My mother believes in participatory humanity. Whatever she's doing, she welcomes you to join right in. Some parents discourage their kids from using household appliances or cooking because I guess they are scared the kids might break something or get hurt. My Mom does not have that fear. I don't remember not knowing how to start a load of clothes in the washing machine, turn on the dryer (after cleaning the lint filter because you don't want the house burning down) and I certainly don't remember feeling helpless or lost in the kitchen.

I remember being tasked with cooking bacon for breakfast. Mom had these distinct tongs used for just that purpose. A few years ago, when I mentioned how I'd never been able to find a set like that for myself, she gave me hers, the same ones I used 50 years ago as a kid. I know for a fact that some food prep tasks she handed off to me were things she hated doing herself. Grating cabbage for coleslaw is a prime example. I'm willing to bet she only has it when I'm visiting her, and she can rope me into doing it. I didn't mind helping, actually. Back in the day, we didn't worry about raw eggs in cake batter and getting to lick the batter from the mixing bowl or the beaters from her handheld mixer was a rite of passage.

I left home as a teenager and got married. My wife could cook and enjoyed making fancy dishes, but I took on the day in and day out food prep duties. She was a military brat and didn't know much about Southern cooking, My grandmother advised her to season vegetables with a little grease, as we do down here. Mema was referring to pork grease, rendered from fatback or bacon, but the young lady I was married to didn't catch that part and soon poured hamburger drippings all over a pot of green beans and didn't understand why they weren't as tasty as she expected.

My kids all managed to make it into adulthood without dying of malnutrition. Their food memories tend to center on things they didn't like rather than all the delicious meals I prepared for them. My son, was the kind of kid who ordered chicken fingers and french fries at Mexican restaurants, has excellent taste as an adult and an adventurous palate, but he swears that the only way he survived his teenage years was by begging me to let him make extra sandwiches to eat in his room. My girls favorite food group was cereal. The happiest days of their lives were the times when I'd buy something apart from raisin bran.

After the kids left home, and I was heavily involved in endurance sports, I learned a lot about nutrition and training. Some of my favorite activities burned massive amounts of calories. I was dedicated to clean eating and went through chicken breasts, sweet potatoes, bags of spinach and cage free eggs like mad. When Wonder Woman and I got married, she was just as dedicated to that diet as I was. She still is, although not quite as rigidly as before. She still prefers brown rice over white rice. I've never known her to eat canned vegetables. For years, she prepared a week's worth of the most colorful salads imaginable every Sunday, and we ate them for lunch during the week,

Since I decided I didn't like being retired and went back to work, we've opted for meals that are quick and easy to prepare so we can have more leisure time at night. I've promised to go back to more cooking from scratch when I finally retire for good. I have a quite nice grill and smoker combo that hasn't gotten a lot of use lately. It does great pork shoulders, beef brisket, whole chickens and turkey breasts. I need to fire that back up soon.

I get the same complaints other male cooks get, primarily centered around being messy, which is true. I am messy. It took me a while to learn how to judge the right portion sizes for my diminutive wife, who, while indeed small, also has to stay fueled up for ultramarathon training. I have also learned that by some miracle of modern medical science, I am to blame for any numbers on the reports she gets after her physical that she doesn't like. Either I'm not serving enough foods rich in vitamin D, or I'm screwing up her HDL and LDL readings.

She still loves me though and readily accepts her plate each night when I deliver hot chow to her after she's waited for me to prepare dinner for us. Few things make me happier than to see her dig into whatever I've made.

Enjoyed it? Please upvote 👇