It was difficult to watch TV in our house growing up. Not that we didn’t make valiant efforts. We did. Lots of valiant efforts. It’s just that Mom made it impossible to hear anything what with the constant banging of pots and pans and cupboard doors in the adjoining kitchen. Why we never put those little felt circles on those dang doors remains a mystery to me still to this day. Perhaps had we done that, I might not have missed Sam’s last sentimental words to the bar in that finale of “Cheers.” Surely, the climactic ending of “The Sixth Sense” wouldn’t have been so totally confusing without the background noise of clanging cookie sheets and the dishwasher (so, was Bruce Willis dead the whole time? Wah?). Perhaps that 4-part Nova documentary explaining the origins of our universe and the basics of life would’ve all made sense… Wait, I never watched shows like that.
Nonetheless, television in our house had the endless accompaniment of kitchen noises. Loud kitchen noises. And it’s impossible to hear those sounds today without thinking of her. Even in our own homes, our children learned to associate those culinary rattlings with visits from Grandma. Early one Sunday morning my sister was up alone dutifully making breakfast for her family while my mom was hundreds of miles away. The clanging and banging of her kitchen instruments awakened a toddler Carter who ran to his dad with an excited sparkle in his eye and knowingly proclaimed, “Grammie’s here!” He was sorely disappointed to find only his frazzled mother in her pajamas dishing up waffles. Those noises sure sounded like Grammie.
Mom was always making something. Frosting something else. Slicing some plate of deliciousness. The sounds of her symphony of kitchen utensils has become synonymous in my brain with hunger and created a Pavlovian craving for something fudgey or fried, or better yet, both.
That’s probably why my Christmas memories are all wrapped up in a little morsel of peanut butter goodness drenched in chocolate and packed on a paper plate. If you know Liz then you know the Peanut Butter Ball, for during the holidays, those two were inseparable. I have such fond memories of sitting up until two in the morning, hunkered down around her butcher-block table, talking incessantly, laughing uncontrollably (there may have been something about the late hour-sugar-coma that contributed to that), and rolling hundreds of peanut-buttery, sugared spheres. It was a holiday tradition. Well, that, and the 10 pounds we would all gain after enjoying the fruits of our labor.
Christmas won’t be the same without her this year. But I can make some balls, and remember. I’ll loudly bang around some pots and pans to get the full effect. And it will be like she’s right there with me.
Liz would love for you to carry on the tradition. So the famous recipe is HERE!! Enjoy. And Merry Christmas from Liz’s Girls.
Liz’s Peanut Butter Balls
½ Cup Softened Butter
1 Lb. Powered Sugar
2 Cups Peanut Butter
Stir well and add 3 Cups of Rice Krispies.
Roll into balls.
Melt 1/3 (scant) bar of paraffin with 6 oz Chocolate Chips and 8 oz Hershey Bar on low heat in double-boiler. Roll balls in chocolate until covered. Set in small confectionary cups.
I agree! I don't think I was ever at the house and saw Liz anywhere but the kitchen. And I still expect to see her there.
ReplyDeleteWe'll definitely cook up a batch of balls in her memory.
Love you guys!
In Memory of your Beautiful Mother I am making these as neighbor gifts this year, I have been thinking allot of her and you guys the past few weeks, I will keep her with me as I am making these and trying not to eat them all..Love to you all!
ReplyDeleteWe will be making some at my house in honor of Liz!!! Can't wait to add this to our family's xmas traditions!
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