Food Shouldn’t Be Complicated


That quote on the picture? Read it, then read it again. I personally believe it’d time for a lot of us to get back to this way of life. It’s beyond time to get back to this way of life. And in my case, Grandma Ely would be horrified by what we consider food sometimes.

I grew up in a way much different than a lot of other people. I was with my grandparents a lot, and because of this I was lucky enough to be around my great-grandparents a lot as well. My great grandparents lived on a large piece of property about 15 minutes away from my parents and grandparents, in a house my great grandfather built. The house in King Holler is still standing today, and my God I’d give anything to be able to live on and work that same piece of ground. I remember huge gardens, catching snapping turtles in the crick out back, chasing crawdads, and chasing raccoons out of the corn crib. Flying squirrels, trapping baskets, having to move the tractors when the holler would flood, quilt frames, and orphaned fawns. Playing hide and seek in the yard, sitting with Sally (their dog) on the front porch in the swing, playing on top of the old root cellar, and finding black snakes in the outhouse. Deer hunting with my uncles and cousins, training bird dogs with my dad, butchering our own hogs and deer. We were and still are simpler people. We were never rich, but we were never left wanting either. We worked hard for what we had and knew the value of a dollar even as kids. Some would look at us and call us rednecks or hillbillies, but it never mattered.

We lived on what we could grow, raise, hunt, or catch. Snapping turtles, squirrels, rabbits, chickens, doves, turkey, deer, ground hogs, you name it. And Grandma Ely, my God she could fix ANYTHING. My grandmother and my mom are both that way. I came from a long line of cooks, and because of them I know my way around a kitchen. However, now, it almost seems like cooking has become a lost art. So many people out there turn to fast food, or microwave meals and don’t even bother with real ingredients. And believe me, I’m just as guilty.

I’ve been the first one to grab one of those “steamer” dinners and pop it in the microwave or stop at a drive thru because I just didn’t feel like it. But why? Why am I running thru a drive thru for a burger I know nothing about, full of chemicals that make it taste good no matter how crappy it is, when I can go home and make one just as easily and for less money. People look for convenience, and food isn’t looked at like it use to be. Dinners use to be at a table, in the kitchen with no cell phones or television. Food use to be made of ingredients you could name, and was something you took the time to enjoy. Now, it’s something you grab on your way to the office or eat sitting in front of a computer screen. No one cares what’s in it, no one cares how it was made, or where it came from.

Someday, I’ll live in that house in the holler. The one with the outhouse still out back, and the cellar in the front yard. The only house my great grandmother ever lived in, other than her families. The house that raised five kids, even with only two small bedrooms. The house with the same old wood stove in the living room, quilting frames and trapping gear in the shed, and the back porch we had fawns under. The house that had the ringer washer in the kitchen, the tiny table and antique cookie jars. The house where I learned how to can, and make flour gravy. Where my grandmother and great grandmother would make everything from ketchup to pickles. Where there were countless hours spend embroidering pillowcases, making dolls for us kids, and quilts for the family.

It’s time to get back to a real way of life again. That’s where our desire for simple comes from. It’s time to start enjoying life and really being part of it. It’s time to start loving food again, and real food at that. It’s time to be done with the bigger and the better, and having what you need not what you think you have to have. It’s time for a life to be lived.

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