Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



Thursday, October 3, 2013

Gravy Wars

Every Wednesday, Delores throws down the gauntlet.
A series of six words.
Which is then picked up by her disciples.
With more - or less - success.
You be the judge!

This week: Mellifluous, endangered, crabby, flaunt, gravy and turpentine

Gravy Wars

It's tougher than it looks...

Mom was an excellent cook.
She could make almost anything taste fantastic.
Almost.
She did have her weaknesses.
Her soggy boiled spinach was consumed only with copious amounts of vinegar or butter.
And we won’t even mention her disastrous attempts at lutefisk.
Though I have to admit I have yet to find anyone who can make that eat-able.
Moving on . . .
Mom taught me how to cook.
Of course I was always a better taste-er than cook-er.
But let’s not go there.
She showed me how to make a pot roast.
And how to use the drippings for delicious, smooth and mellifluous (does that work here?) gravy.
Yum.
Mostly, my forays into the heavenly land of roasted meat and gravy were acceptable.
Sometimes, they weren’t.
But it was one of those ‘less-than-satisfactory’ occasions that gave rise to a new family tradition . . .
On Sundays, before leaving for church, Mom had taught me to put a roast in the oven. Thus, when the family returned from services, the smell of deliciousness would be wafting through the house, making mouths water and giving the impression that food was forthcoming.
Which it was.
Eagerly, the family would perform such tasks as: Changing out of ‘Sunday’ clothes. Setting the table. Drooling.
While Mom (me) whipped up the accompaniments to the main dish.
In short order, everyone was seated and shoveling.
Until Mom (me, again) brought out the gravy.
Now, up until now, my gravy had been a little on the thin side.
On this auspicious day, it was . . . thick.
Really thick.
Eat with a fork thick.
Husby took the bowl, obligingly spooned some of the contents onto his potatoes and beef.
Spread it around with his knife.
And made an unfortunate comment of which the words ‘wallpaper paste’ alone were discernible.
Can I say it? It made me . . . crabby.
Let me get the turpentine to thin it out crabby.
After that, when the smell of roast beef drifted through the air, Husby was the person at the stove, making the gravy.
It has become a family tradition.
And his gravy is legendary.
He doesn’t flaunt his superiority.
Okay, maybe he does.
A little.
But it’s well-deserved.
Isn’t it amazing when traditions are started for the sole purpose of not endangering lives?
His.

20 comments:

  1. I don't recall making that unfortunate comment. I think you have me confused with some other person. Probably the one hanging the wallpaper. Oh wait, that was me too . . . . .

    Anonymous Husby-Figure

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Obviously I'M not the one who's confused... :)

      Delete
  2. You did it again. I didn't know how you could pull those words together but you did with your usual grace and humor. Loved it. I'm a better taster too--none of my food turns out mellifluous. :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Bwahahahaha! Thank you, J! You've totally made my day!

      Delete
  3. Magnificent, Diane!
    I thought the use of mellifluous was brilliant.
    I was wondering how you would fit in turpentine, and you did it! Bravo!
    Love,
    Chris

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That Delores, she's tricky. Although I have to admit that, sometimes, my gravy and turpentine are a little too closely connected...

      Delete
  4. Fabulous...gravy is a tad tricky isn't it?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It all depends on what you put in . . . and who's making it!

      Delete
  5. What a perfect way to solve the gravy problems!

    And yet another great use of words that are seemingly connected only by the fact they use letters :) Delores makes good lists!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Heehee! Stop by our place for some truly amazing gravy! WITHOUT turpentine . . .

      Delete
  6. I think I could've used everything but mellifluous. That word almost makes me slobber when I try to pronounce it. Good post, Diane.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I had to look it up! It does sound like a slobbery sort of word!

      Delete
  7. What is lutefish? I was, indeed, drooling while reading this post! My whole family struggles with making gravy. It's kind of the yearly Thanksgiving joke. Everything is SO good...except the gravy. Maybe, you could send your husband my way...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Lutefisk is Swedish cod, cooked to very strict specifications. It's, in a word, yucky. And no amount of ketchup or butter will save it . . .
      Ask any Swede.
      I'm happy to loan my Husby. Please feed him before you send him back. :)

      Delete
  8. Wow, I loved this story and how you crafted the words into the story. This was a usual fun one.
    Blessings!

    ReplyDelete
  9. This is fantastic! I really like the way you weave the words into a true life story every week.
    I had a step sister who never got the hang of gravy making. You could slice her gravy and serve it with tongs. one slice or two?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Heehee! Your step-sister and I probably went to the same school of hard knocks . . .

      Delete
  10. You did an awesome job with only 6 words to work with! Hey, I love to cook, but my gravy isn't anything special either, if it makes you feel any better!

    ReplyDelete

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