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.
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 . . . . .
ReplyDeleteAnonymous Husby-Figure
Obviously I'M not the one who's confused... :)
DeleteYou 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. :)
ReplyDeleteBwahahahaha! Thank you, J! You've totally made my day!
DeleteMagnificent, Diane!
ReplyDeleteI thought the use of mellifluous was brilliant.
I was wondering how you would fit in turpentine, and you did it! Bravo!
Love,
Chris
That Delores, she's tricky. Although I have to admit that, sometimes, my gravy and turpentine are a little too closely connected...
DeleteFabulous...gravy is a tad tricky isn't it?
ReplyDeleteIt all depends on what you put in . . . and who's making it!
DeleteWhat a perfect way to solve the gravy problems!
ReplyDeleteAnd yet another great use of words that are seemingly connected only by the fact they use letters :) Delores makes good lists!
Heehee! Stop by our place for some truly amazing gravy! WITHOUT turpentine . . .
DeleteI think I could've used everything but mellifluous. That word almost makes me slobber when I try to pronounce it. Good post, Diane.
ReplyDeleteI had to look it up! It does sound like a slobbery sort of word!
DeleteWhat 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...
ReplyDeleteLutefisk is Swedish cod, cooked to very strict specifications. It's, in a word, yucky. And no amount of ketchup or butter will save it . . .
DeleteAsk any Swede.
I'm happy to loan my Husby. Please feed him before you send him back. :)
Wow, I loved this story and how you crafted the words into the story. This was a usual fun one.
ReplyDeleteBlessings!
Thank you, LeAnn! :-)
DeleteThis is fantastic! I really like the way you weave the words into a true life story every week.
ReplyDeleteI 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?
Heehee! Your step-sister and I probably went to the same school of hard knocks . . .
DeleteYou 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!
ReplyDeleteActually...it does! Thank you!
Delete