Growing up, Christmas was a big deal for me. School hallways dripped with decorations and letters to Santa. Throughout the town, buildings were aglow with lights and Christmas cheer. Presents nestled under the tree just waiting to be unwrapped. Our family tradition was to visit my dad’s family on Christmas Eve and then go to my Grannie and Pawpaw’s on Christmas day.
We thoroughly enjoyed both places but, when it came to my Grannie and Pawpaw’s, the gifts were a little different. We did receive toys and things, but the bulk of it was homemade – crochet slippers and throws, soft quilted blankets embroidered with flowers and baby animals, cookies, candies, fudge, popcorn, pretty dresses…all of it made by my Grannie and her sisters, Helen and Burmadee.
Throughout the year, they would meet several days a week and, over cups of coffee and lively conversation, spend several hours each day embroidering and stitching around a giant quilting frame hung from the ceiling. In the evenings, Grannie would sit, her short, dark hair set in curlers, crocheting while my Pawpaw and I watched Dallas with big bowls of popcorn.
Aunt Burmadee, didn’t crochet, but she did sew, paint, and do carpentry. She would carefully cut and sew pretty dresses with puffy sleeves and skirts that swished when you walked and flew out like a tornado when you twirled around. She made cute yard decor and painted beautiful scenery and portraits. They worked all year, carefully crafting and tucking away gifts for the people they loved.
The week before Christmas, the baking began. There were so many goodies: crunchy butter cookies, crisp peanut brittle, chewy pecan logs, airy meringues, chewy peanut butter cookies, fudge so rich and creamy that you thought you had died and gone to chocolate heaven! Now that I am a baker, I realized that it took over 80 hours to produce all of the things she made in that week before the big day. I still don’t know how she did it and still cooked three homemade meals a day for my Pawpaw.
When Christmas day rolled around, the family gathered in my Grannie and Pawpaw’s tiny home to celebrate. Her small table was laden with turkey, ham, yams, green beans, cornbread dressing, and rolls so hot and steamy that butter began melting before it ever hit the surface. The desserts – oh the desserts – coconut pie, pecan pie, sweet potato pie, chocolate cake, and a cheesecake pie dripping with cherries for yours truly.
The family, their plates filled to overflowing, found places to sit and eat where they could while the children nestled down in the middle of the living room floor to eat and play games. I, of course, could usually be found right next to my Grannie. After dinner and gifts, the kids would run to play outside while the women cleaned up and the men enjoyed one last slice of pie over a hot cup of coffee. We always left their house with full bellies and laden with beautiful homemade gifts and canning from Pawpaw and Grannie’s garden – gifts from their hearts and their home.
I still have the blankets and crochet throws; and though the treats and canned goods have been gone for many years, the lessons Grannie and Pawpaw taught me about the value of homemade treasures still linger. Thanks to these wonderful people, I can sew, quilt, cook, and can foods. I have a love for farm-to-table and an appreciation of a simple way of life. Best of all, I have a lifetime of memories and stories to share and a ton of recipes to pass down to future generations.
Next week, as I begin my holiday baking, my Grannie and Pawpaw, my great-aunts, and their friends, will be there with me in the lessons I learned and the food I make.
I hope each of you have a wonderful holiday and a safe and happy new year!
P.S. Yes, I am a crazy dog parent who got Courage his own chair. He was pouting because I wouldn’t give him a coconut cookie.
