I love to visit my daughter because she expects me to cook. “Good Morning. Rise and shine, it’s time for French toast,” I cheerily sing out to the two not morning people who lack my enthusiasm for everything. The two ‘don’t talk to me before noon’ sleepers are my daughter and granddaughter. Grammy has come to set the world back on happy, like it or not.
I traveled to Arizona to help my daughter during a difficult semester in grad school. I came for three months and stayed three years. Just a thoughtful heads up to anyone who may have considered inviting me for a visit. Not to be too invasive, after three months I moved to my own apartment across a courtyard from ‘the girls.’ A healthy distance apart, we were able to share pots, pans and pounds. I make the best French toast, my daughter makes the best bacon, (she bakes it) and we gained about fifteen pounds each.
Who wouldn’t be able to make the best French toast after watching marathon episodes of Chopped and Beat Bobby Flay? I love, love, love cooking shows. “And for your final challenge you will make a dessert using eel, peanut butter, and coconut”. Then they do it. It is so amazing. In one show the challenge was to only use meat and a contestant made pork ice cream for dessert! I don’t just watch, I cheer. “Go Bobby!” It must be very annoying to the family members who are happy to have me glued to the sofa. I have noticed that a lot of the contestants, when asked why they entered the competition respond with saying that they want to make their children proud. Huh? The old fashioned me will now take over and say, isn’t that in reverse? I thought kids were supposed to make their parents proud. A contestant has to win Chopped before their children will look up to them? Quite possibly I am the only viewer with this negative analytical response, but it also seems too hard to do. What if you don’t win? Of course, this is coming from a woman who has already won The Best French Toast award.
Cooking in Arizona came to an end. One day it happened. I had to get out. I was trapped in a foreign land. I started telling myself (and anyone else who would listen) that if I ever make it back to Florida, I will never go west of the Mississippi again. I wanted to see green foliage, feel humidity, smack mosquitoes. I missed a Florida backyard with lush green trees and lizards flapping their orange throat flappers. Give me Florida or give me death.
“ But Miss Pat, what about French Toast and happy mornings stuffing your face with bacon?” This Grammy still loves to visit, and when I do, it’s “Rise and shine, time for French Toast.”
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