By anybody’s standards, Ma was not just a “good cook” but a great one. When we were growing up, the quality and quantity were always there. There was never a day when Ma didn’t cook. There was no such thing as ordering a pizza or grabbing a quick burger at McDonald’s. We always ate at home, and while the quality was always tops, occasionally the food would take an unexpected turn.
One of these turns is the inspiration for the title of this book. In those days, supper was served PROMPTLY at 5 PM, which meant that you went directly from the end of the Mickey Mouse Club show to the table and sometimes you couldn’t even see the previews of the latest Disney film. The preview were shown at the end of the broadcast . On this particular evening, chicken soup with rice was on the menu. I had been practicing piano and was a few minutes late to the table. Very unfortunate for me !
What I didn’t know was that everyone else there had already announced that “the rice was hard”. When I remarked on the “al dente” state of the rice, I became the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. Ma had really had it and I definitely heard about it. A lot. Loudly.
However, Ma had her ways of getting even with us. On another occasion, the supper table uproar had really gotten out of hand. Maybe it was our custom of dropping ham fat scraps into other people’s milk when they weren’t looking or the little game we used to play catapulting peas on the ends of our spoons across the table , but the bottom line was that we were assigned to eat in shifts. With only two people at the table at a time, how much trouble could there be ?
One night, the first two diners sat down to a bowl of fragrant beef stew. Something was different, but they couldn’t quite figure out what. The word quickly spread down to the next shift that something was “odd”. It was only several days later that we learned that we had eaten beef HEART stew. Of course, the beef heart came courtesy of that famous High-Low butcher, Uncle Danny.
With so many people to feed every day, there were some very important rules to follow. Right at the top of the list was “Don’t open the refrigerator unless you are told to “. Notice, the word is OPEN -- you couldn’t even look at the food ! lest you think that we were hungry, don’t worry. There were three meals a day and snacks on the table after school. There was also “snack” after supper. Ma would lay the snack out on the kitchen table, and if you were not there for some reason, she would very thoughtfully put yours in a safe place, just in case someone else thought the snack was meant for them.
Shopping for food was a constant process, with everyone doing their part. As we got old enough, all the girls took their turns going to High-Low, entrusted with the change purse and the shopping list.
Dad did his part, buying milk from The Farmer’s Daughter on his way home from work, but perhaps his finest achievement was his friendship with the Goldblatt’s bakery ladies. Shortly before closing on Saturday, everything in the bakery took a huge markdown. At this point, Dad would arrive, buying all the marble pound cake and apple slices he could carry home.
These, along with any other bargains he found there were the basis of many Saturday night feasts.