Creamed Onions

So Brother and I took Mom out to eat for Mother's Day. It wasn't just some local place either; it was the Dillard House in Clayton, Georgia. It's about as far north as you can get in Georgia without falling off the edge of the state. It was a two hour drive and by the time we got there we were famished, and ready to eat. I'm not sure if it was fair to make Mom drive or not but the Mustang ain't really made for transporting folks; maybe two, but definitely not three. We got there at the same time that all of the local churches let out and it was certainly a race to get your name on the waiting list. Mom pulled a stunt that I am known for but I've never seen her do it. It's where you stop the car at the front of the restaurant and have somebody hop out to get your name on the waiting list. Anyhow, I was the lucky soul that hopped rolled out of the backseat of Mom's car. (Her backseat wasn't much bigger than mine.) We enjoyed a half hour wait sitting out on the front porch, stomachs growling, rocking in comfortable high back rocking chairs, straining to hear what numbers they were calling over the loudspeaker. With each number called I was met with questioning glances from Mom and Brother both wondering what our number was and if it had just been called. We were finally led to our table and had to go through the main dining room, out the back door, cross the yard and enter into a whole other building. We were all surprised by this unexpected detour and joked that you usually have to wash dishes after the meal, not before. We were now in an old converted farmhouse and were elbow to elbow with our fellow diners. I was sticking out like a sore thumb. Mom and Brother were seated against the wall and I was seated on the outside of the table which was the main only walkway from the kitchen to the dining area. There was also a loose board or something near my chair because every time someone walked past I got a jolt, a goose and a lift up from my chair. There were three bowls already on the table containing apple butter, relish, and a third bowl that we all sniffed and couldn't identify until Brother tasted it. It was horseradish sauce. I think we were waiting for menus or something and were totally blown away when three waiters arrived with three heavy laden trays of every country food dish imaginable. You don't have to order at this place, they bring you everything , and I mean everything on the menu. The three of us quickly loosened our pants and dug in. I was immediately drawn to the lima beans and Au gratin potatoes. Brother was enjoying the Prime Rib, biscuits and cucumber and onion mixture. Mom, well, she was enjoying the creamed onions. Creamed onions! Sometimes, I wonder how we can be possibly be related. I think it's well known that the MA Fat Woman doesn't do onions, creamed or not. All in all, we had a fun trip and were all in agreement that Dad and Sister would have enjoyed the meal too. I'm not sure about the creamed onions, though. That's something only a mother could love.

Tater Salad

It took me a few years to learn to appreciate this delicacy served at picnics, potlucks, and funerals. Church socials, family reunions and basically any other gathering that served food always seemed to have several different kinds of potato salad. Potato salad or tater salad as we call it in my family is a gathering requirement. Someone usually asks who's bringing the tater salad and the resulting answer is met with extreme caution. You see in the middle-aged fat woman's family there are four(4) different recipes for tater salad. And none of us really like the others' recipes. Mom's recipe is a classic tater salad laced with eggs, onions,(I'm allergic) pickles, (I don't like) relish, (Yuck) and celery seed. Brother's recipe is stocked with onions, (I'm allergic) paprika, and every dressing and sauce in the fridge which total (at last count) 43. Sister's recipe is spiked with onions, Ohio style chili, and caffeine free Diet Pepsi. (No comment for that one) Middle-aged fat woman's recipe is a meat-and-potatoes kind of dish. It only has a few ingredients, none of which are listed above, except eggs. I subscribe to several upscale magazines and had seen a new recipe for Summer Potato Salad. Well, I thought la-dee-da, I'll just have to give this new tater salad a shot. The new recipe called for fancy bleu cheese crumbles, 3 tablespoons of coarse salt, red wine vinegar and freshly chopped chives. What a disaster. Of course, all of the stores were closed for the holiday, so, I had to stop at a convenience store to pick up those unusual ingredients, none of which they had. I got to Mom's house and began to assemble the Summer Potato Salad. (She had already cooked the potatoes) We poured 3 tablespoons of Morton salt into the bowl. We added wild onion stems pulled directly from the front yard. Lastly, we poured blue cheese salad dressing into some cottage cheese to get the crumble effect. We had all of the other ingredients so we added them in as well. Mom looked at me and I looked at her, "You ready to taste it?" In went the spoons, out came a gag and a bleccckkk, she spit hers out and my eyes teared up. It was awful. Just awful. Brother came in and gave it a taste, "That tastes like @%X*^!#," he said, then threw down his spoon in disgust and stomped out of the kitchen. Sister wasn't in town for this holiday, but her daughter was. I looked over at her with spoon in hand and she said, "I'm allergic to tater salad." (Smart kid)