House Overflowing

It became very clear to me that when I am really stressed I cook.  I also really clean the kitchen.  But more importantly I cook.

Baby R has a non specified seizure (they don’t know what the heck it is) disorder.  He is well maintained to a point by medication.  However he is two and growing like a weed so it is hard to keep his meds at a therapeutic level.  Anyway Tuesday night as Papa and I get home from an evening meeting, we notice the Big A** Van (also known as BAV) is gone.  Puzzled we walk in the house and Uncle is standing at the top of the stairs.  Mama and Baby R have just left via ambulance and Daddy is following in the BAV.  Stress starts.

OK this is not the first ambulance adventure, but then we discover Baby R is being transferred from one hospital to another. Stress mounts. 

Wednesday morning comes.  Baby R has been admitted and they won’t be home today.  So Papa and I tag team the child care for the other 4 children. He goes to work and will be home by lunch so I can go in for the afternoon. Stress mounts.

So want do I do first? Cook.  My grandchildren had a breakfast on Wednesday morning worthy of a full fledged Sunday Brunch.  Eggs and hash browns and sausage and biscuits and gravy and fresh fruit cut in pretty shapes and juice and milk. For morning snack they had more fresh fruit with peanut butter and celery stalks stuffed with a homemade cheese spread.  For lunch they had lightly grilled Panini with ham and Swiss cheese along with raw carrots, celery, broccoli florets and a ranch style dip. For dinner, Papa grilled hamburgers while I prepared cottage fries and homemade baked beans (a family favorite).  The burgers were served with sharp cheddar cheese, sliced tomato, lettuce, red onion and the regular type burger condiments.

I had to teach Wednesday night, so I saw that the boys were fed and ready for bed before I dashed off to teach.  When I came home the kitchen was spotless. I asked Papa why he didn’t just leave it and he said he was waiting to hear from the hospital so cleaning the kitchen seemed like a good idea. Besides nothing was on TV.

All this kitchen stuff I know is genetic.  It affects my mother and one of my sisters.  My other sister is not really much of a cook.  But my mother used to be a wonderful cook. My sister is such a cook that she blogs about it.  But I remember my mother baking and roasting and sautéing her way through many moments of stress in our lives.  Her sure fire cure for just about any emotional ailment was Fudge Pie. I had to steal this recipe from my sister – the keeper of all recipes. She has my great grandmothers recipe box which is not a cute little index card file.  It is more along the lines of an old fashioned library card catalog – several drawers worth.

Fudge Pie

4 eggs (whole)
1 1/2 c sugar
pinch of salt
1 heaping tbs flour
2 sq chocolate
1/4 lb butter
1 tsp vanilla

Melt chocolate and butter together. Beat eggs; add sugar and salt, then chocolate and butter that have been melted together. Stir in flour, add vanilla. Bake in greased 9 inch pie pan for 25 minutes at 350 degrees, then reduce heat to 250 degrees and continue baking for about 20 minutes.

This pie tastes like the gooey center of slightly under baked brownies but a million times richer.  I guess to my mother is seemed if we could afford (notice the ingredients are just part of your normal pantry – ok my family’s normal pantry) this decedent dessert at 3 o’clock in the morning than whatever the problem was could be put in perspective.

My family talks about food – well almost constantly.  We share recipes and failures. Menus for parties.  Traditional holiday meals with a new spin. Ways to stretch a pound of ground beef to feed 12 or how to make a week’s worth the groceries out of what’s in the pantry.  My mother, my sister and I can look into Ol’ Mother Hubbard’s pantry and cook for at least a week.

We all cook when we are stressed.  Decadent desserts in the wee hours, power cooking everything for the week, reading recipes and adding our own special something.

I think this stress cooking is our way of drawing the family close and keeping them safe.  Our way of providing for them while keeping our hands and minds busy in order to stay semi-sane in times of stress.

But Baby R is fine for now and the grandchildren are back to eating cold cereal for breakfast.