Hillbilly Hostess: Food Fail and The Original Redneck Chef

Though I never went to culinary school, I do consider myself a foodie and a pretty darn good (self-trained with the help of my mother) fine food chef. In fact, I try to make our one meal together at home as a family, more than just supper, but a fine dining “experience”. And, while I “do” often stay true to my cultural roots, I also love “experimenting” with flavors and foods...mostly, healthy, natural, and good for you foods.

Meals, even when served on paper plates (in an effort to save time and energy during the work week) are eaten in the dining room with proper place settings and as a family.

My biggest challenge: cooking for a crowd. My fare is often based on mostly vegan and vegetarian dishes full of pungent flavors and foreign and exotic seasonings and spices. And, let’s face it; North America is notorious for its reputation as being a fatty, fried, and fast food nation.

Sure, I’m woman enough to admit that I’m shamelessly addicted to Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives….it’s both my “guilty” and “not so guilty” pleasure.  And, while I’m not entirely opposed to occasionally getting some grub from the local “greasy spoon’ when it comes to cooking we are more in line with Guy’s parents who he claims were grassroots vegetarians.  

So how does this eclectic chef wind up in a redneck kitchen? Well, apparently by marrying into it.

And, I’m not talking Paula Dean….I’m not even talking Duck Dynasty…I’m talking Honey Boo Boo.

And, when it comes to the fast food frenzy, my man’s family could be the poster child for fast food fanaticism.

In fact, I don’t even know why his mother has a kitchen, or why she recently decided to spend money to modernize and update it. I’ve rarely seen her use it, well, not unless WE are visiting and doing the cooking. Or, to be fair, unless something needs to be reheated, although there’s always the microwave for that.

Is it any wonder that when we first met, my man, her son, ate the Bonne Bell cheese WITH the wax still on it?

So, what is it about that, that exactly bothers me?

Could it be that his mother never really cared for cooking?

Could it be that perhaps she’s not a very good cook?

Can it be that I never thought I meet a less skilled chef than my beloved grandmother whose steak was always too hard and veggies always way too soft? But, at least she actually made attempts to cook.

 I can remember my cousin, I’ll call him T,  boldly suggesting he a chainsaw for chopping up the meat.

Still, HER table, at least for certain holidays was full at what was her attempt at a home-made meals. And, she “did” have a few quite exceptional dishes…and that’s coming from someone like me who considers herself a pretty eclectic foodie. I still have those “famous” recipes. Plus, ON those certain special occasions, her table was properly set with fine china, crystal, and spiffy silverware set in place; again something the man’s mom considers either too extravagant or, more likely, too much trouble.

I think honestly when it comes to my mother-in-law it’s more than that. It’s the fact, that she has literally NOTHING to bring to the table….well, unless you take into account her semi-homemade butterscotch pie and her spoonful of mashed potatoes, and that’s literally NO exaggeration.

By the way, I don’t even attempt to eat it (the butterscotch pie that is) since I have sugar allergies.

But, I have “tasted” it and, to be fair and honest, it “is” pretty good. However, not good enough to be considered “THE” family tradition?

What kind of tradition is that? Butterscotch pie is not a tradition, it’s a dessert and PART of a tradition at best.

Food for me is about more than just the meal, it’s about the experience.

It is a way of expressing yourself and your love for those you are entertaining and serving. And, done right it can be an actual art form. I suppose that’s why everything from cooking and baking to bartending are called the culinary ARTS.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t expect everyone to be Giada De Laurentis or Wolfgang Puck,  I don’t even expect them to be Rachel Ray, or even me. I “do” however expect them to some degree, care, and to SHOW they care by occasionally going out of their way, at least, at very least on special occasions, whether I am there (to see it) or not. Otherwise, my question is how much do you care about the other members of your family and honestly what example are you setting and what message are you sending.

Don’t want to cook? Pick something up at Costco, heat it up and properly place it on a proper and appropriate platter. Heck, host a brunch or lunch instead of dinner and serve up some store-bought salads, cold cuts and finger sandwiches; but first be sure to set a nice table because, remember, often times, just like location, presentation is everything. Why else do the Chef judges place such a huge emphasis on plating?

Yet, when it comes to my man’s mom, all of this is “trivial”. In fact, tradition, again, except for the butterscotch pie, is “trivial”.

He is French/Irish Canadian, and besides having a limited grasp of the language, neither he nor his brothers (or their families) have any concept of the culture…or of their Italian heritage (on both mother’s sides) for that matter.

 When my husband was growing up, the holidays were spent at HIS grandmother’s house and once she passed (at a relatively young age) even this tradition was sadly forsaken and has since been long, lost and practically forgotten. None of the children stepped up OR stepped in as her replacement, with each of the brothers and sisters now gathering separately with their own friends and family or, to coin Sprint…framily.

So, what did the NEW custom consist of. It consisted of my mother-in-law inviting everyone over for holiday dinner and asking THEM to pick up or make the entire meal. In fact, it meant and still does mean, not only others catering the meal, but cooking it, and cleaning up afterwards, as she prefers to, as she puts it, enjoy herself and the party. It may also mean, ordering out, usually Chinese food or Kentucky Fried Chicken, then placed in their take out containers along the kitchen counter and on the kitchen and dining room tables alongside the provided napkins and accompanying paper plates and plastic utensils for everyone to help themselves.

While, in MY opinion, and I suppose it’s only MY opinion, though there may be the few who agree, this setup is most suitable for more formal celebrations..i.e.: Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, birthdays, or” just because” get-togethers. But, Thanksgiving, Christmas or Easter, I’m not so sure. Well, actually, I am sure and I would dare say, appropriate is one thing it’s certainly not.

Does anyone else remember Sundays at Grandma’s? Even that was a big “To Do”. In fact, I can remember my grandma(s) virtually slaving over the stove all day just to great their family. Smells of sauce (pasta sauce to be exact), meatballs, etc. permeated the air and made the house feel like a welcoming home and gathering place, especially after church.

And, what’s fancy or “special” about spaghetti and meatballs? Really, nothing or at least not that much…but what was and (still) is special is the bonds we as kids built; bonds with our grandparents, parents and other kids (usually our cousins) that were there. In fact, I still maintain these relationships, even those that have somehow unraveled over the years, based on THESE fond  foundations and memories. In fact, it is via these “gala” gatherings that I learned about family life, my heritage, my culture and tradition…and it is through these experiences and fun times that I am able to give something beautiful (now) to my family as I continue to build beautiful traditions of our own.

Honestly, I still love the smell of homemade sauce and continue to refine the recipes of the past, making them my own.

So, back to my original point and intent. I find it odd, if not entirely bothersome that my husband experienced NONE, or at best, very little of this. And, it doesn’t stop there. His nieces and nephews have no REAL culture, no REAL tradition or customs and no REAL tight bonds, at least not that I can see. In fact, there is little about going to grandma’s that they have to look forward to….unless you call ordering drive through foods something to look forward to.

Going to grandmeme’s for dinner either means fast food take out or a store bought meat lasagna, some chicken and a bowl of salad that one of my sister-in-law’s  usually makes….and never enough really to feed the whole family. Maybe that’s something they picked up from my mother-in-law. She tends to be a big frugal, and I’m being polite. Dinner veggies on the table typically means no more than a bowl, and ice cream bowl of veggies to be exact. This to feed between 11-18 people.  

And, with each “child” (though some are technically young adults now) on his or her cell phone, tweeting or texting there is little shared experience or memorable exchanges.

All this while MY side of the family, despite their annoyances and quirks, hey, we’ve all got them, still maintains, that holidays are a celebrations and hence a CAUSE CELEBRE. So, every holiday is a special extravaganza steeped in rich culture and tradition. And, now we the children have been passed the proverbial baton taking what WE learned from our lineage to the next level.

And, yes, I won’t lie, it’s often a lot of money and a lot of work, but it can be, with the right crowd and company a lot of gratification….a gratification that sadly enough some will never experience and never know….at least not from a “Hillbilly” kitchen or a “Hillbilly” chef.

So, what does the future hold? Well, I presume instead of pass the potatoes, passing the French fries, but then again, since my husband is part French, there’s “little” comfort in knowing something “French” (even if in name only) made it to the table.