Note: The blog is undergoing some minor remodeling. It's ongoing and we're playing with some things, so it may change a few times before it's all done. If you're reading from your phone, you won't notice a difference at all. So, just pardon our progress.

Also, if you haven't already, there's a place under my mugshot to add your email address to my list and you can follow the blog that way. After you submit your email address, you will receive an email and you MUST verify by following the directions in that email or it won't add you. Also, if you'd like to follow me on Instagram, I'm mothermuffintop. I'm going to get that up and going soon. I'm not really an Instagram-er, but I'm going to try to get into it. So, there's that.      

So, tonight, I wanted to talk about love and the ways we express it. We've all heard about the five love languages. We each express and respond differently to the many ways that love can be communicated. There are love languages, which speak to us more deeply than the others and there are those, which we speak to others more frequently because we feel they're our highest offering of love. The book lists the love languages as words of affirmation, quality time, gifts, acts of service, and physical touch. Well, as many books as Mr. Chapman has sold on the topic, as a southern woman, I see one glaring omission on this list and that is the love language of food. You might argue that food would fall under acts of service as it requires cooking or even under gifts, but I'd have to insist that it is deserving of its own completely separate category, here in the South.

We went to see Davis' Daddy, tonight. Since his Mama died, we've tried to take a big meal and eat with his Dad, once a week. Davis's Mama would always make so much food when we'd come visit them. So many choices. She'd make one thing because it was Blair's favorite and she'd make another thing because Carson liked it and something else because I once mentioned I liked it and on and on until the kitchen was just full of choices.

And, at the end of a visit, at the first indication that you were about to leave, she'd get up and start unloading the refrigerator. She didn't want anyone leaving her house without making a plate to take and enjoy, the next day. And if she came to our house to visit, well, she'd bring half of the big pot of soup she'd just made or a pie because the recipe made two or a couple of packs of the corn that she'd just put up. She never came to visit without bearing food.

My brother, Lee, was here, last week. He was dropping off his son, Lelan, to spend a week with my mother. They were going to enjoy a week of grandmother/grandson bonding before school started. My niece wasn't quite ready for a week away from home, but her brother sure was. He told her she didn't know what she was missing because Grandma was the best cook of all time. You know you're good when small children even recognize it.  
Of course, as soon as the father/son duo drove in, my mother had a meal, hot and ready. Chicken pie, vegetables....I forgot what else. There's no telling, really. I was talking on the phone with my brother, later, and he was telling me how everything she cooks is just ridiculously good. We were so spoiled growing up with her, the home economics major, cooking for us 3 times a day. We discussed how nobody can cook like her, which led him into a whole new conversation about how her over easy eggs are sheer perfection and he's never had one anywhere that even comes close to hers. He told me how their supper, that night, was almost to the point that, when they'd take a bite of food, she was loading their plates back up again. And I can tell you if you're eating at her house and your tea is not level with the top of your glass, at all times, she shoots up like a rocket to remedy that tragic situation. He said they finally had to tell her that they just couldn't hold anymore food and to, please, sit down and eat. 

While my nephew was here, Carson and my other nephew, Casey, took turns staying the night at their Grandma's house, so Lelan would have a chance to hang out with the older cousins he idolizes so much. Carson said, late one night, he made the mistake of going to the refrigerator. He's recently just taken up residence at the refrigerator door here at home, but, there, it was his Grandma's cue that he was on the brink of starvation and immediate action should be taken. She springs up from her seat and reports for duty....listing off all the things she could whip up in a hurry. Grilled cheese, homemade French fries(which are the BEST), pancakes from scratch, bacon, and eggs were just a few of the options given. She's not one to take no for an answer when she's trying to feed you, so Carson finally conceded and chose pancakes and bacon. So, at 11:00 p.m., she gets busy at the stove cooking for her growing grandson. Just about the time she got that order going, Lelan chimed in that he wanted a grilled cheese and French fries. No Hungry Jack pancake mix, Kraft singles, or Ore-Ida bags on the premises, I can promise you that.

I can't tell you how many times I've had conversations with her similar to the following:
"Joni, are you hungry?"
"No, I'm good, Mama."
"Now, I know you could eat a little something."
"No, really, I'm fine, Mama."
(Opening the refrigerator) "Look, I've got some of this roast left that I cooked last night and some butter beans and, look, here's a piece of pie.....and I could have some mashed potatoes ready in no time to go with that good roast gravy....or would you rather have rice?" (filling up a pot with water and grabbing her paring knife)
"Mama, I appreciate it, but....."
"Joni, just hush. Now, this won't take long. You just go sit down and read the paper or something."

At this point, you can either comply or subject yourself to sitting and listening to an infinite list of things she could make for you....only ceasing when you agree to one of them. This is the only way to end this type of food love language standoff.  You must eat something.

My grandmothers were that way, too. I don't have many vivid memories of my Mimi's cooking days, because her health kept her out of the kitchen for most of my memory of her, but I've heard she was a really good cook, who loved feeding the people she loved. She had four boys, so I know she loved a lot through her kitchen. My Grandmother, well, I do remember her cooking days. Mercy. She'd greet us at the kitchen screen door in her apron, reciting the menu of yumminess that was about to be presented to us in buffet form. If there was a large group coming, the food preferences of the person visiting from the farthest would usually be most heavily considered. We'd sit down to all the deliciousness and, before we could get our legs out from under the table, she was giving an account of the menu plans for the next meal. She wanted everyone to be happy and well fed when they were under her roof.

Some favorite sayings of southern mothers/grandmothers and their translation for non-southerners:

"Y'all go back." (You all go help yourself to second helpings.)

"Don't y'all want some more? We've got plenty." (I told y'all to go back. Don't be shy. We don't want this to go to waste and there's more here than your Daddy and I can eat.)

"This pie won't be fit to eat tomorrow, so eat up." (This meringue will just get runny, the longer it sits, so you all need to finish it up before night falls.)

"If y'all want to take some of this home, here are some Cool-Whip bowls." (If you all would enjoy taking leftovers with you when you leave here, today, here are some recycled containers with which you could transport them to your home.)

"Here, just eat these last couple of spoonfuls. It's not even enough to bother putting up." (Please, stuff these large tablespoons of cornbread dressing into your already gorged belly, because I don't have a margarine bowl small enough to house this last little bit.)

"You can worry about your diet tomorrow." (I have been in this hot kitchen, all day, cooking this good food for you and I don't want to hear about your keto whatever. You can keto when you're at your own house. Now, here, have a biscuit.)  

Yeah, I don't think that any of the original love languages adequately covers the demonstration of the kind of love expressed when a southern woman cooks for the people she loves. It's a deep down kind of desire to give the pleasurable experience that only good home cooking can give. It's loving someone so much that you want to give them what you know and do best. It's that perfect consistency, a flawless rise, that silky smooth texture, the learned patience, and the experienced hand that has perfected just the ideal amount of seasoning. It's a craft used to bring families together, comfort the sick, support the mourning, sustain life, help a neighbor, celebrate special occasions, and, most of all, express some of the deepest, most genuine feelings of love that a southern woman can have for someone.

So, here's to a place where food is love and to our mamas and grandmamas, who dish it out.

Hope y'all have a great day!


See you soon!