My Kentucky roots

My mom's mother was from Kentucky. She could cook good home cooking that we all love. One thing she could make that I loved was biscuits and gravy. Mmmmm, good.

My grandma lived with us for several years before she passed away. About a year or so before she passed away (I was about 13 at this time), she got so sick that she became bedridden. She slowly lost her appetite throughout this year.

One time when she and I were home alone, I got a taste for some biscuits and gravy. I knew how to open a can of biscuits and cook those, but I had no idea how to make sausage gravy. I asked my grandma how to make it and she gave me instructions. Then she said that she wanted some when it was ready. I told her that maybe she should wait until I see how it turns out since it was my first attempt. She insisted that I make her a plate when it was ready.

I tried my best and used her instructions, but despite good intentions it did not turn out well. At all. But, my grandma still insisted on a serving. She loved it and praised it as the best tasting gravy she's had. As I scraped the rest of the gravy into the trash, I thought to myself that my poor grandma was really sick--she couldn't tell the difference between gravy and glue.

Now fast forward a few years. My friend, Monica, and I went to West Virginia to see her friend get baptized. We stayed in some cabins that Monica's friends rented for a family vacation. One morning, we decided to go out for breakfast. We went to the nearest town and went to the small cafe for breakfast. There were about 5 of us and we sat at the counter. Monica sat with her friend at one end of the counter while I sat with others at the other end.

Since the only breakfast food worth eating is biscuits and gravy, that's what I ordered. Monica and friend ordered the same. Our order came as most restaurants serve it--2 biscuits on a plate with a bowl of gravy with it. I begin to eat and as any biscuits and gravy aficionado knows, you break your biscuits into bite sized pieces, place them in the bowl, and eat everything with a spoon. Monica and her friend began to eat theirs as most non-biscuits and gravy eating people eat it--slice the biscuits, place on the plate, spoon gravy over them, and eat the whole with a fork and knife. So proper and precise.

Unbeknownst to me, Monica and friend were snickering at how I chose to eat my breakfast. They were making fun of me tearing my biscuits and eating it all with a spoon. Suddenly, next to Monica, an older man asked her in a thick country accent, "Ya ain't frum around here, ar ya?" Monica politely answered, "No." He continued, "I kin tell. Ya don eat ya biskits n gravee raht." Monica asked, "How are you supposed to eat them?" Then my hero explains the proper way to eat this breakfast, "Ya tear up yer biskit into yer bowl and eat it all wit a spoon. That's the only way to eat it."

I may not have learned how to make this breakfast dish at 13 years old, but I knew EXACTLY how to eat it! Take that, city-girl!