October 30, 2014

a southern mamma's cookin'.

Let me fill y'all in on a little secret.

I married a southern boy that loves his southern mamma's cookin'.

Okay, maybe that wasn't a very big secret, but let me continue. You see, I was not raised by a southern mamma, I was raised by a northern mamma, and she really doesn't love to cook. Let me preface this by saying...I love my momma. She's the best and I ate everything she cooked, but she doesn't love the kitchen. So, growing up we had cereal and lots of leftovers. For example, she made chili, we ate chili, for at least a week.  She made spaghetti, we ate spaghetti, for at least a week.  My family is full of people that like to snack, so big meals were never a priority and seeing my mom spend hours in the kitchen wasn't much of a reality.  

Then I met Peyton...and then his mamma. 
Bless my half northern/half southern heart. 

Because y'all, my only fear of marriage was how I was going to feed this man I married. 

Before Peyton and I reconnected, he was building our log home with his future wife in mind. He built her a beautiful kitchen with the latest appliances and tons of counter space for cooking and entertaining. He had visions of deep fried chicken and pyrex dishes of banana pudding being pulled out of the oven.  He saw fresh garden green beans simmered in bacon for supper and country ham biscuits at the breakfast table. He had big dreams and aspirations for his wife and her kitchen. Well y'all, low and behold, I happened to be that future wife.
But before we continue, just bless my heart one more time, because let me tell you, I cannot cook like his mamma. My mother in law is an amazing woman...her ribs are to die for as well as her BBQ.  Her cobblers melt in your mouth and her sweet tea is nectar from the good Lord above. Who in their right mind wants to follow a true southern mamma.  Not I.  My college education was good for something and southern cookin' wasn't it.

So, for my birthday, I asked for only one thing.  His mamma's recipe book.  I have yet to sit down and gather her famous recipes, but I have had my own share of successes and failures in the kitchen.

Like...those fried pork chops. fail.

Like...those biscuits. fail.

My hope of becoming the next Paula Deen and southern domesticated woman was on the quick and rapid descent for you know where until Britt from The Fisk Files saved our marriage with a recipe of pecan pie muffins. And honest to goodness...they were the best. My southern husband LOVED them. After dancing in my apron and saying a prayer to the good Lord Jesus, I had some confidence.

And this weekend...

The Pioneer Woman came in and saved the day with her hamburger soup. Another win for me and another meal for him.

Thankfully, I have a husband that will eat just about anything. Hallelujah and pass the biscuits.

Anyone else ever wondered how they were going to survive in the kitchen?