What's Cookin', Maxine?...Beets Me...

I know what it feels like to walk into a brutal murder scene....the faint feeling, gasp of breath and hand covering my face. I had returned from a day at work at school, walked into the kitchen and saw a red hand print dripping down the refrigerator. The same hand prints were on the cabinets, stove and sink. Red drops pooled on the floor.

 
"I made beets today," my mother sang out to me from her chair in the living room. "Oh...that's nice," I said, wiping clean all beet evidence...after catching my breath. I don't want to make light of anyone who has experienced a real crime scene...but for a few short seconds...I think I could relate to that feeling. My mother lived with me the last twelve years of her life. Her health was remarkable...no medication...just something for her indigestion and a vitamin for her macular degeneration. Some of you may know, from earlier posts, that she was an excellent seamstress. She was NOT a good cook.

 People at school did look forward for her banana bread...until one loaf was full of paper clips. Maxine, (my mom) had dropped a box of paper clips on the counter...I guess...I did not have the heart to tell her about the ruined bread...and I did find stray clips on the floor and counter. It is difficult to write about her cooking without making this way too long. 

 There was the time she made jelly for a brunch my parents were having for guests. My father did 99% of the cooking (he said Maxine was better at entertaining), but she wanted to contribute something...so she made jelly. She proudly set a few small bowls with the proper silver spoon in each bowl. By the time brunch was served, the jelly had solidified becoming one with the bowl and spoon. Picking up the spoon would result in the whole bowl being lifted from the table. One more example and I will end...for now.... I think this picture of the fudge she made needs no words of description.

 She later decided that this would make great topping for her daily hot fudge sundaes.