Getting to know you better...
Do you have a favorite meal? A "go to" comfort food that immediately puts you in your Grandma's kitchen? I have two. Yes, two. It's OK to have two. One my MaMaw made me and the other my Papaw made for me. Today I am going to tell you about Fried Toast.
My grandparents lived all the way at the end of Broadwell Road near Rodessa, Louisiana. When I say at the end of it...I mean it. The road ended and you drove through a pasture to get to their house. It had a big metal gate. I can't tell you how many times that I got in trouble for swinging on that gate. I just couldn't resist the temptation. I can remember MaMaw telling me that I couldn't go past the barbwire fence in the very back of the pasture...what I didn't realize at the time was that she lived just about on the State line. I'm fairly certain that I might have crossed over that fence a time or town with my friends. A bunch of people lived out on this road...about 8 or 9 houses were out there...I think. They all shared a "party-line" telephone when I was little. Mrs. Griffith would listen to everyone's conversations. You could hear her breathing. Honestly. My earliest memories are at Mrs. Sprayberry's house...just up the road from my MaMaw's. Times were definitely different out there. Slower. I don't know how to explain it. It was just a different world. I loved that little house at the end of that dirt road.
Anyway, Pap was diabetic and had to have breakfast at the same time every morning. He got up early and fixed his breakfast. I have absolutely no idea what his breakfast was...no clue...none. What I do remember is, that when I was there, every single morning, he made me the same thing. Two pieces of Fried Toast, sausage patties, and a fried egg. Served with orange juice in my favorite Roadrunner jelly jar for a glass. When I tell this story, the question is always...what is Fried Toast? Well, it is fried toast. Pap would butter one side of the bread and melt some butter in a cast iron skillet...then put the slice of bread in the skillet butter side down and cook it until it was nice and toasty brown. Two slices. Always two slices. Once it was cooked...you cover it with syrup. Only Mrs. Butterworth's will do. No other syrup tastes the same. Yum. My favorite. When Pap passed away, my MaMaw made sure that I was given his Cast Iron Skillet and that Roadrunner glass. I still use that skillet to make the same fried toast for my own kids. I hope that they pass the tradition down to their kids. Fried Toast. You need to try it. ♥
Do you have a favorite meal? A "go to" comfort food that immediately puts you in your Grandma's kitchen? I have two. Yes, two. It's OK to have two. One my MaMaw made me and the other my Papaw made for me. Today I am going to tell you about Fried Toast.
My grandparents lived all the way at the end of Broadwell Road near Rodessa, Louisiana. When I say at the end of it...I mean it. The road ended and you drove through a pasture to get to their house. It had a big metal gate. I can't tell you how many times that I got in trouble for swinging on that gate. I just couldn't resist the temptation. I can remember MaMaw telling me that I couldn't go past the barbwire fence in the very back of the pasture...what I didn't realize at the time was that she lived just about on the State line. I'm fairly certain that I might have crossed over that fence a time or town with my friends. A bunch of people lived out on this road...about 8 or 9 houses were out there...I think. They all shared a "party-line" telephone when I was little. Mrs. Griffith would listen to everyone's conversations. You could hear her breathing. Honestly. My earliest memories are at Mrs. Sprayberry's house...just up the road from my MaMaw's. Times were definitely different out there. Slower. I don't know how to explain it. It was just a different world. I loved that little house at the end of that dirt road.
Anyway, Pap was diabetic and had to have breakfast at the same time every morning. He got up early and fixed his breakfast. I have absolutely no idea what his breakfast was...no clue...none. What I do remember is, that when I was there, every single morning, he made me the same thing. Two pieces of Fried Toast, sausage patties, and a fried egg. Served with orange juice in my favorite Roadrunner jelly jar for a glass. When I tell this story, the question is always...what is Fried Toast? Well, it is fried toast. Pap would butter one side of the bread and melt some butter in a cast iron skillet...then put the slice of bread in the skillet butter side down and cook it until it was nice and toasty brown. Two slices. Always two slices. Once it was cooked...you cover it with syrup. Only Mrs. Butterworth's will do. No other syrup tastes the same. Yum. My favorite. When Pap passed away, my MaMaw made sure that I was given his Cast Iron Skillet and that Roadrunner glass. I still use that skillet to make the same fried toast for my own kids. I hope that they pass the tradition down to their kids. Fried Toast. You need to try it. ♥
Comments
Post a Comment