There is an awesome song that was out a while back by Miranda Lambert called The House That Built Me. It’s a very touching song and one that Identify with. In the song she talks about all the memories she had in that house where she had grown up. I have lost both my parents. All I have left are memories. My sister and I had the task of selling the only childhood home we had ever had. All those memories. I remember clearing out the few things left in the house before we closed on it. I walked room to empty room recalling my days as a kid and teen in that home. I didn’t have a perfect childhood, but who does?
My parents made things special. My fondest memories center around food. I was blessed with two parents who were great cooks. Nothing fancy but good at cooking. My mom was German and dad was a Texas farm boy. I had the advantage of eating foods that were the best of both worlds.
I have learned over the years how to cook both of their specialties. I could make German purple cabbage and sevral other dishes. I learned how to make my dad’s red beans. I never learned to make one of the best things he made, Beef Vegetable Stew. Nothing fancy just down home hearty cooking. I had made several attempts but it never came out like his. I gave up trying for the longest time. This week I was really craving the stew so I decided to give it another shot. I got it right!!! Oh the memories it brings back. Memories of home. I remember the house smelling of that wonderful stew. Now my home did too. I don’t know if it was the taste of it or the smell of it that brought me so much joy this week, The fond memories though are priceless. Some times a touch or a smell take you back to a time in your life you hold dear.Like I said most of my good memories centered around food.
I think back to all the home cooked meals we had. Green beans from dad’s garden. Salad made from things he grew in the garden. The old fashioned canning mom and dad would do every year with their tomato crop. It was more then just food. With tthe food that was painstakingly grown and prepared came a lot of love. Getting the recipe right ( he never wrote it down ) meant a lot to me. It’s something to pass down to my kids. It’s tradition and it’s home.
What reminds you of home? Please share.