Though she wasn’t my biological mother, I still want my mommy when sick or hurt. She passed in 2005, but the child inside me never gives up the need for her mama. Much like saying a Hail Mary and asking the holy mother for help… but I mainly call on my mom for… food. Do you think she spoiled me a bit?
I slipped a disc early Monday morning. What did I desire more than anything (other than a new spine)? When the man asked what I needed -he is incredible- my answer stunned: “My mother to rise from her grave and make me a pot of chicken and dumplings”.
Rose could make ambrosia out of dirt. She never taught me how to cook; don’t know why, but at least I’ve picked up a few things. One of them is her recipe (not really; she never needed one) for Custard Pie. Simple, with few ingredients, I crave it sometimes. Today is one of those days.
1/2 cup sugar
1 pint milk
Mix together and pour into an unbaked pie shell. Bake in 300° oven for 1 hour, or until crust is set.
Guess I don’t have to ask her to rise from the dead today. (That feels blasphemous) But tomorrow I might have a hankering for her Liver and Onions…