Well, we are entering the “bowl” season – correct? So here’s my stroll down memory lane and my rooster-bowl story this Thanksgiving morning.
I woke up early and prepared the normal golf breakfast (another story), cleared the counter, pulled out the recipe book, and stood on my tiptoes to reach for that big old rooster bowl to prepare one of my favorite pumpkin desserts. Down with it came the medium-sized rooster bowl. Decades earlier the mini-rooster bowl had broken, so said Mother about ten years ago when I asked if I could have the bowls when she was downsizing. The bowls are turquoise and white with etchings of a farm couple, corn stalks, and roosters. But growing up, I only noticed the roosters. And therein lies the reason for the given name – rooster bowl.
I don’t remember life without these bowls – a size for anything and everything. You could mix in them; store in them; bake in them; and, a bowl before its time, eons later even microwave in them.
Many cakes were birthed in this big one. You never had to worry about the batter splattering outside of the bowl. I stood alongside and watched Mother mix up the batter and wondered if I would get to lick the beaters or be the chosen one for the big rooster bowl (three sisters, you know).
Mother whipped up mashed potatoes with butter, milk, salt, and pepper in that big rooster bowl – yum, the real deal, not from a box. The bowl has survived many years of beater clanging and wooden-spoon whippings.
Spaghetti and meatballs were served up family-style in old rooster, enough for our entire girl clan and Daddy. And for you health-conscious readers, that simple salad with just the right amount of garlic salt and oil could not be replicated by anyone – so said Aunt Lucille. We both tried but confessed we just didn’t have the touch.
Mama, maybe my sons will have a few memories like I have. Maybe someday one of them will want rooster bowl and maybe one of them will remember the wonderful smell of pumpkin in the house and arguing to lick that old bowl.
Today, I am thankful for my mother and the memories, and I am thankful for my sons.
Hey guys, the bowl is dishwasher safe too. 🙂 Sometimes I just like to do things the old-fashioned way – like Mammy and Mama did. I remember and am, indeed, most grateful …