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Sunday Dinner. In the South, it falls sometime after church and lasts until the dishes are done
and put away. For my family it was always an all day affair. My maternal Grandmother, Nanny,
as she is called expected all of her children and grandchildren to be at the table on Sunday.
Why would we miss it? This woman could take a simple pack of chicken and make the most
amazing meal that was so much more than just food. It was home.
My favorite part was the pan bread and my job was to gather the kindling for the pot bellied
stove that was the center of all things homemade in my grandparent’s house. Pan bread was
nothing more than what most people would call corn bread but when Nanny made it, it was
pure bliss. And if you were lucky and patient enough you just might get the first piece, hot out
of the cast iron skillet. It was Heaven.
My Nanny is so much more than just my grandmother. She is the heart and soul of our family.
She raised five children and did it all while her husband was fighting a war in a world far
away. She is my inspiration. As a mother, a daughter and a woman, she is every bit a part of
me.
My family no longer gathers on Sundays. Life has since marched on and I now live 3,000
miles away from Nanny with a family of my own. I don’t get home enough these days and
miss our time together. The house that is filled with so many of my memories now belongs to
someone else. And the pot bellied stove? I think it’s safe to say it’s probably been replaced by
a newer version.
Sunday Dinner however lives on in my heart. The time that I spend in the kitchen with my
daughter is so very special to me. And when our bread comes hot, out of the oven, I make
sure to give her the first bite, passing on Nanny’s tiny taste of Heaven.
and put away. For my family it was always an all day affair. My maternal Grandmother, Nanny,
as she is called expected all of her children and grandchildren to be at the table on Sunday.
Why would we miss it? This woman could take a simple pack of chicken and make the most
amazing meal that was so much more than just food. It was home.
My favorite part was the pan bread and my job was to gather the kindling for the pot bellied
stove that was the center of all things homemade in my grandparent’s house. Pan bread was
nothing more than what most people would call corn bread but when Nanny made it, it was
pure bliss. And if you were lucky and patient enough you just might get the first piece, hot out
of the cast iron skillet. It was Heaven.
My Nanny is so much more than just my grandmother. She is the heart and soul of our family.
She raised five children and did it all while her husband was fighting a war in a world far
away. She is my inspiration. As a mother, a daughter and a woman, she is every bit a part of
me.
My family no longer gathers on Sundays. Life has since marched on and I now live 3,000
miles away from Nanny with a family of my own. I don’t get home enough these days and
miss our time together. The house that is filled with so many of my memories now belongs to
someone else. And the pot bellied stove? I think it’s safe to say it’s probably been replaced by
a newer version.
Sunday Dinner however lives on in my heart. The time that I spend in the kitchen with my
daughter is so very special to me. And when our bread comes hot, out of the oven, I make
sure to give her the first bite, passing on Nanny’s tiny taste of Heaven.
the inspiration
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