tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-626594980028435818.post5750455432381575305..comments2024-03-19T04:19:54.725-04:00Comments on Sightings Over Sixty: My Mom's CookingTomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08611148987085476580noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-626594980028435818.post-81452437604210673322017-02-28T08:26:09.977-05:002017-02-28T08:26:09.977-05:00I'd rather do the dishes than cook any day. My...I'd rather do the dishes than cook any day. My husband is the cook in the family, and he's really good at it. He also is very protective of the condition of the kitchen and shoos me out if I think I might learn to cook someday. Love this post, Tom! :-)DJanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07152183871573797791noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-626594980028435818.post-43835834220153851742017-02-27T22:13:54.309-05:002017-02-27T22:13:54.309-05:00Meat and potatoes were a meals musts my father ins...Meat and potatoes were a meals musts my father insisted upon. Considering his requirements Mom was a pretty good cook but not the fancy variety type -- her foods were the "stick to your ribs" kind as would be desired on the farm where she grew up. My MIL's version of the same hardy food was with a southern orientation -- but she cooked the heck out of all vegetables with the electric stove burner on high forever, plus her focus was on quantity of intake and her weight reflected that. Amazingly to me she never developed diabetes and lived to over 90 years despite the fact her extremely excessive weight for years led her to a very sedentary life style. <br />joaredhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09999395062839739698noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-626594980028435818.post-74609814178402745242017-02-27T19:56:04.724-05:002017-02-27T19:56:04.724-05:00I have to laugh each time my husband tells someone...I have to laugh each time my husband tells someone that I am a good cook. Fortunately, my ego isn't tied to my ability to cook or to do any other domestic chore.<br /><br />Both of my parents cooked foods that we kids liked, but it was just plain old farm cooking. The one thing my dad taught me was to heat food thoroughly before serving. Can you guess my husband's main complaint? Oh, yeah, the food is always too darned hot.<br />Cop Car<br />P.S. Any of the women in Hunky Husband's family could cook rings around anyone else I've known. In fact, his sister has owned and run a bakery and a deli; she has published a couple of cook books; she has represented Cuisinart in demonstrations all over the USA; and she is still (age 77) a pastry chef at a fancy restaurant. And she's no better a cook than any of the other women in his family.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-626594980028435818.post-56481009277912720412017-02-27T13:34:20.457-05:002017-02-27T13:34:20.457-05:00My Mom was a pretty decent cook and my dad wasn...My Mom was a pretty decent cook and my dad wasn't bad except that he made a terrible mess that I, as head dishwasher, had to clean up. LOL. I'm not much of a cook. Never really enjoyed it like some do Which is too bad because it could make my diabetic menu much more exciting.Barbarahttp://www.babybloggingboomer.blogspot.comnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-626594980028435818.post-68587956224129048462017-02-27T12:12:06.887-05:002017-02-27T12:12:06.887-05:00Hi Tom! It seems we have even more in common. My...Hi Tom! It seems we have even more in common. My mom was a lousy cook too. She just didn't care about it so fish sticks were a main course AND she loved TV dinners (and we did too at the time!) As soon as I was able I started doing the family cooking and everyone was fairly happy. And while I don't think I'm a gourmet by any means, I can cook a few dishes really well. Fortunately my Thom does the dishes for me in our house too. ~KathyKathy @ SMART Living 365.comhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12392736262783641661noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-626594980028435818.post-47753959854815056952017-02-27T09:41:06.396-05:002017-02-27T09:41:06.396-05:00Oh, my! I grew up with the blessing of a mother wh...Oh, my! I grew up with the blessing of a mother who was a fantastic cook. So much so that her six daughters couldn't hold a candle to her talents. She was a pioneer woman with a large family of seven, and limited financial means, but her natural talent for cooking grew out of love for her family, and became a thing of legend. It was mostly ethnic (Romanian) but she incorporated many North American dishes she read about in a national paper. She died five years ago at 94, and is greatly missed.Still the Lucky Fewhttp://www.stilltheluckyfew.comnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-626594980028435818.post-51849686709398580742017-02-27T01:49:20.100-05:002017-02-27T01:49:20.100-05:00In my house, I cook and do the dishes.In my house, I cook and do the dishes.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-626594980028435818.post-82242319451266694792017-02-26T23:07:17.641-05:002017-02-26T23:07:17.641-05:00I'll tell mom that you have finally given her ...I'll tell mom that you have finally given her an excuse. She is 1/4 English! None of us ever remember her cooking. Neither can she! Her saviors were Big Boys and Jack in the Box. <br />Of course that argument breaks down for my husband's family. His mom was a good cook. All English, she knew what to do with a can opener :)<br />My husband cooks and I do the dishes. We figured out that arrangement in year 25. We are both happy. Janettehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10054888725603183006noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-626594980028435818.post-24760503134545673542017-02-26T22:45:06.759-05:002017-02-26T22:45:06.759-05:00retirementreflections, B agrees with you completel...retirementreflections, B agrees with you completely.Tomhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08611148987085476580noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-626594980028435818.post-10559357788111691602017-02-26T22:38:29.165-05:002017-02-26T22:38:29.165-05:00I'd rather cook than do the dishes any day!I'd rather cook than do the dishes any day!<br />retirementreflectionshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03256842249783275416noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-626594980028435818.post-71769197031375424472017-02-26T20:05:11.927-05:002017-02-26T20:05:11.927-05:00I grew up on very bland food. My mom always said &...I grew up on very bland food. My mom always said "the kids wouldn't like that" when my dad suggested something more adventurous. It wasn't until I left home that I was exposed to onions, mushrooms, and spicy hot food. She made the BEST molasses chocolate chip cookies, and there often was a pan waiting for us after school ;-)Carolehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17237805282007404140noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-626594980028435818.post-35328684734891078922017-02-26T19:46:50.040-05:002017-02-26T19:46:50.040-05:00I guess it isn't uncommon at a certain age to ...I guess it isn't uncommon at a certain age to reflect on our parents and just how much we resemble them.stephen Hayeshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17659054447637207734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-626594980028435818.post-86262359323808650022017-02-26T16:53:46.439-05:002017-02-26T16:53:46.439-05:00My mother was a good cook. My father couldn't...My mother was a good cook. My father couldn't (or more likely, wouldn't) make himself a sandwich and I don't believe he ever once did the dishes. On the other hand, my mom was very handy with tools and did a lot of fix-it jobs around the house. She never learned to drive though. My dad tried to each her once, but that didn't work out.Olgahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00692441479616299920noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-626594980028435818.post-78207903026575036092017-02-26T14:15:10.701-05:002017-02-26T14:15:10.701-05:00Two Italians here.
I'll say no more.Two Italians here.<br />I'll say no more.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-626594980028435818.post-54424376843630379482017-02-26T13:17:37.408-05:002017-02-26T13:17:37.408-05:00I was saved by my generation(women working outside...I was saved by my generation(women working outside the home). I was a bad cook. My son said that I coudnt taste food. I am even a worse housekeeper. The artificial Christmas tree stood in the corner in July 1984. My job was my excuse. <br />I count my blessing that I am still married and my H put up with me. DDDhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09039721435518231693noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-626594980028435818.post-37083909350033123092017-02-26T12:07:39.552-05:002017-02-26T12:07:39.552-05:00John, I found your post interesting... and it make...John, I found your post interesting... and it makes me wonder what my own kids think of my cooking. My dad was English/Irish (thus, I love tea - with cream!), but my mom was French and was if not great, a good cook. Born and raised in New Orleans, she cooked some things that I loved - such as oyster pie, oyster stuffing, oyster patties <br />(things I've never seen here in Texas), also crab cakes, and militon (chayote)stuffing with shrimp,etc. And although I was taught always to use fresh *seafood*, we rarely had fresh veggies. Mom usually used canned. It was a wonderful discovery when I was married and discovered how much I preferred fresh vegetables (so different from canned). Rianhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09472421271620543536noreply@blogger.com