The memory you share of your grandmother's fried chicken took me way back. My grandmother and great-grandmother raised me from an early age, and all good food memories come from Nana, my GGM. Our household did not splurge much on desserts, especially since Nana was an excellent cake baker. Yet, I distinctly remember Vienna Fingers cookies in our kitchen. It seemed to be my Nana's indulgence along with her daily cup of Sanka, as my grandmother's sweet of choice was butter pecan ice cream. Because I was a child who had gone through some things way too early, I was a little spoiled, so I was sometimes the recipient of one of those coveted cookies. I can't pass them in the supermarket without thinking of her, Sanka, and the love she so clearly showed to me. My Nana's chicken (and everything else!) was probably the bomb, but 49 year old me remembers those cookies the most.
Honeysuckle’s bring me back home. I used to drink the nectar from a bush in our schoolyard with my best friend in the times in between when everything was safe and without demand
That whole section after “We have enough food to eat.” Reminds me of Psalm 23. You are “I shall not want”-ing in this abundance you’re naming. It’s beautiful.
All this resonates with me. I didn’t get to know my grandma and now my mom is also passed. When I cook something she liked I’m reminded of her love for cooking and always feeding us. I’m slowly walking through grief. Thank you for sharing.
My God Mothers banana pudding. She would slightly bake it in the oven. The warm pudding and soft vanilla wafer cookies would always make me feel cozy and warm.
My grandmother introduced me to Swiss chard. And she made this dense yellow cake which she poured a wonderful chocolate sauce I've since found out is called 'chocolate gravy.' Every time I make and eat either, I think of her. Thanks for this memory.
I grew up with my mom eating chocolate ice cream with Lay's potato chips, and after many years of resisting it, I realized I also like that combination very much!
When I was away from home I caught a cold, and even though my mum taught me how to make get chicken soup over the phone, there was a part of me that longed for a dished called "Mbatata Urojo". It's this tangy, slightly sour soup with potatoes and chicken and you can put in other ingredients you like as well. I need to learn to make it from her while I still have the chance
This brought tears to the part of me that still hears the sizzle of Crisco and the hum of a box fan in the background while someone I loved made something out of nothing.
Your memory of your grandmother’s chicken—juicy, sweet, maybe laced with pancake mix and love—isn’t just about food. It’s about the sacred alchemy of survival and affection that poor folks turn into legacy. That magic of the highest order, as you so rightly named it.
And your letter to younger Rob? Damn. That hit like gospel. I felt it deep—especially the line: we live alone, but never really feel alone. That’s the kind of healing you don’t get from therapy alone—it comes from memory, music, and yes…fried chicken.
Thank you for this. I’m off to go salt a slice of watermelon and call my mom.
—Virgin Monk Boy
(who also never got that pager, but now gets texts from the divine through dreams and grocery store strangers)
I still make the chicken without a fuss recipe (curried chicken with apples and onions, yum) that my Grams made for my St. Patrick's Day birthday after I finally told her that I really didn't like corned beef and cabbage.
Though not homemade food, for me, the smell of moth balls and the combination of 7-up and nutter butter peanut butter cookies snap me back to visiting my Nonna and Poppa, which was an otherwise rather frightening prospect. They were kind, loving folks from Italy whose house was big and scary to my 5 year-old self. Looking back, I'm thankful to have spent time with my great grandparents.
This unlocked some food memories of my own, especially the watermelon with salt, which was a big part of my childhood in FL.
Some of my food memories:
Potato chip sandwhiches w/mayo on white bread
Corn flakes or grape nuts with tons of sugar (to off-set the taste of powdered milk)
Peach cobbler
Peanut butter cookies
Banana bread (mom made this all the time)
My mother's buttermilk biscuits
My grandma's Hello Dollies - mushed gram craker crust w/ butter, chocolate chips, shredded coconut, and topped with sweetened condensed milk. I'm not sure who came up with the name, but my dad's family is from Kentucky and that's what they call this dessert.
Food was sparse in our home, too. So my siblings and I are all foodies now.
Isn't it amazing how food almost seasons our lives? Some of my fondest memories with family members involve food. That fried chicken recipe sounds good. I can almost hear the crunch of the chicken and feel the oil on my fingertips. Food is one of the ways people who love us express their love. It feels like a 6th love language of it's own to me. I used to take pictures of all the food I ate at restaurants and or new recipes my family and I tried. But now I realize the memories with the people themselves are just as important if not more important. Thanks for sharing.
I love the painting grandma’s kitchen. I had that very stove. Kept the house warm. We were not poor. But worked to pay the property taxes and gas to jobs. And wasted little. Husband from Oklahoma was poor. His grandma had the same stove and made greens and pork and fried apricot pies. I’m glad you made it. Thank you for sharing. ✍️Cynthia
The memory you share of your grandmother's fried chicken took me way back. My grandmother and great-grandmother raised me from an early age, and all good food memories come from Nana, my GGM. Our household did not splurge much on desserts, especially since Nana was an excellent cake baker. Yet, I distinctly remember Vienna Fingers cookies in our kitchen. It seemed to be my Nana's indulgence along with her daily cup of Sanka, as my grandmother's sweet of choice was butter pecan ice cream. Because I was a child who had gone through some things way too early, I was a little spoiled, so I was sometimes the recipient of one of those coveted cookies. I can't pass them in the supermarket without thinking of her, Sanka, and the love she so clearly showed to me. My Nana's chicken (and everything else!) was probably the bomb, but 49 year old me remembers those cookies the most.
oh thank you for sharing these treasured memories with me.
Honeysuckle’s bring me back home. I used to drink the nectar from a bush in our schoolyard with my best friend in the times in between when everything was safe and without demand
I always have wondered what honeysuckle tastes like
They taste like what tears would taste like if they were sweet 🥰
That whole section after “We have enough food to eat.” Reminds me of Psalm 23. You are “I shall not want”-ing in this abundance you’re naming. It’s beautiful.
*tears*
Siiiisssss!!! 🥹🥹🥹🙌🏾🙌🏾🙌🏾
All this resonates with me. I didn’t get to know my grandma and now my mom is also passed. When I cook something she liked I’m reminded of her love for cooking and always feeding us. I’m slowly walking through grief. Thank you for sharing.
My God Mothers banana pudding. She would slightly bake it in the oven. The warm pudding and soft vanilla wafer cookies would always make me feel cozy and warm.
My grandmother introduced me to Swiss chard. And she made this dense yellow cake which she poured a wonderful chocolate sauce I've since found out is called 'chocolate gravy.' Every time I make and eat either, I think of her. Thanks for this memory.
thank you for sharing your memories with me also
I grew up with my mom eating chocolate ice cream with Lay's potato chips, and after many years of resisting it, I realized I also like that combination very much!
this felt like a warm hug
The only French toast I will ever eat is the one I make using my grandfather‘s recipe.
ohhhh thats so beautiful to me
When I was away from home I caught a cold, and even though my mum taught me how to make get chicken soup over the phone, there was a part of me that longed for a dished called "Mbatata Urojo". It's this tangy, slightly sour soup with potatoes and chicken and you can put in other ingredients you like as well. I need to learn to make it from her while I still have the chance
oh yes, it would be so amazing if you make it and get that recipe
This brought tears to the part of me that still hears the sizzle of Crisco and the hum of a box fan in the background while someone I loved made something out of nothing.
Your memory of your grandmother’s chicken—juicy, sweet, maybe laced with pancake mix and love—isn’t just about food. It’s about the sacred alchemy of survival and affection that poor folks turn into legacy. That magic of the highest order, as you so rightly named it.
And your letter to younger Rob? Damn. That hit like gospel. I felt it deep—especially the line: we live alone, but never really feel alone. That’s the kind of healing you don’t get from therapy alone—it comes from memory, music, and yes…fried chicken.
Thank you for this. I’m off to go salt a slice of watermelon and call my mom.
—Virgin Monk Boy
(who also never got that pager, but now gets texts from the divine through dreams and grocery store strangers)
this felt so encouraging. thank you
I still make the chicken without a fuss recipe (curried chicken with apples and onions, yum) that my Grams made for my St. Patrick's Day birthday after I finally told her that I really didn't like corned beef and cabbage.
Though not homemade food, for me, the smell of moth balls and the combination of 7-up and nutter butter peanut butter cookies snap me back to visiting my Nonna and Poppa, which was an otherwise rather frightening prospect. They were kind, loving folks from Italy whose house was big and scary to my 5 year-old self. Looking back, I'm thankful to have spent time with my great grandparents.
This unlocked some food memories of my own, especially the watermelon with salt, which was a big part of my childhood in FL.
Some of my food memories:
Potato chip sandwhiches w/mayo on white bread
Corn flakes or grape nuts with tons of sugar (to off-set the taste of powdered milk)
Peach cobbler
Peanut butter cookies
Banana bread (mom made this all the time)
My mother's buttermilk biscuits
My grandma's Hello Dollies - mushed gram craker crust w/ butter, chocolate chips, shredded coconut, and topped with sweetened condensed milk. I'm not sure who came up with the name, but my dad's family is from Kentucky and that's what they call this dessert.
Food was sparse in our home, too. So my siblings and I are all foodies now.
Again, thanks for sharing your post.
yum! thank you
*graham cracker crust
Oops
Isn't it amazing how food almost seasons our lives? Some of my fondest memories with family members involve food. That fried chicken recipe sounds good. I can almost hear the crunch of the chicken and feel the oil on my fingertips. Food is one of the ways people who love us express their love. It feels like a 6th love language of it's own to me. I used to take pictures of all the food I ate at restaurants and or new recipes my family and I tried. But now I realize the memories with the people themselves are just as important if not more important. Thanks for sharing.
oh this was beautiful writing that you gave us in these comments. thank you
Aww. Thank you so much for prompting me to stop and reflect with your post. You're welcome!
I didn’t expect to tear up reading this, but here we are. Thank you.
I didn't anticipate the traction that this post would get and how it brought me to tears to write
Whew. Grateful for it and you.
I love the painting grandma’s kitchen. I had that very stove. Kept the house warm. We were not poor. But worked to pay the property taxes and gas to jobs. And wasted little. Husband from Oklahoma was poor. His grandma had the same stove and made greens and pork and fried apricot pies. I’m glad you made it. Thank you for sharing. ✍️Cynthia