It’s All About Grandma and GrandpaYoung!

Nearly all of my early family food memories revolve around being at Grandma and Grandpa Young’s house, whether it was a family gathering or just a couple of us. Spending hours and hours at their house meant I had the great fortune to eat many meals with them. It is only with time and raising my own family that I have grown up enough to fully appreciate the magic that was created in the kitchen.

Grandpa Young’s grandparents immigrated to the United States from Germany in the 1800’s. They settled in southern Indiana, and over time most of the family made a living in farming. The timeline thereby places my grandparents as young adults during the Depression. They knew what it meant to make do with what little they had. They knew how to take a little and make enough. They knew what it meant to do without.

Fast forward in time to my grandparents becoming grandparents. Having grown up in the country and living across the road from their farm meant I was blessed with spending countless days at their house. Most kids looked forward to sleeping in on Saturday mornings. Not me; I got up early and was usually knocking on their back door so that I could have breakfast with them. Their breakfast rarely varied from corn flakes; you know, the kind that come in that giant box from Kellogg’s that has the big green and red rooster on it and that aren’t fit to eat without a few spoonfuls of sugar dumped on them first. Even at today’s prices, I think you can still get that same oversized box for about three dollars. Interestingly enough, I never joined them for corn flakes. Instead Grandma fixed me one or two pieces of toast loaded with chunks of real butter. I don’t mean this Country Crock spread stuff either. Honest to goodness butter. Despite the warmth of the bread, how come that solid white butter never seemed to melt? My cousin Dan was also an early riser, and if he joined me at the back door in time, we might ask Grandpa to make us an egg sandwich instead. That was the only time we could get away with asking Grandma to step aside in the kitchen as only Grandpa could make The Perfect Sunny Side Up Egg. He could fry it fast enough that the edges were crisp, but the center of the egg oozed bright yellow yolk. To this day I still do not know his secret, and one bite of my eggs would convince you that is a skill I sure didn’t acquire!

Grandma was famous for her kuchen, which is German for coffee cake. Kuchen is made with very basic ingredients like flour, eggs and brown sugar and baked for about 15 minutes. I am proud to say that the same recipe from the 1800’s that my ancestors brought with them to America is still being passed down in our family.
My aunt and grandmother were active in our little Methodist church in Elberfeld, Indiana. Both were the church’s pianist and/or organist. At different times throughout the year, our church cooked for the Kiwanis men’s club and also had bake sales. I knew when there was a church event of some kind happening as soon as I got to Grandma’s on a Saturday. One look around at the 100 plus kuchens cooling throughout the kitchen and dining room told you she had been asked to supply the kuchen for a church event of some kind.

My grandparents saved many things and reused them (they were recycling even before it was cool to go green!) And plastic sacks from packages of hamburger buns were no exception. Those were saved throughout the year, and that is what all her kuchens were individually wrapped and transported to church in.

Being farmers, my grandparents always had a large garden. Grandma spent days in the kitchen canning the tomatoes, green beans and corn that would be eaten during the winter months. The adults in the family spent many summer evenings under the big sycamore trees in the back yard snapping green beans for her to can in the pressure cooker the next day. I have read that home canning is on the rise again as people long to go back to a simpler time. Canning was a necessity and a way of life for past generations whereas today I question whether the motivation is the purely for the novelty.

Seasonal fruit made its appearance each summer at their house. What a treat when Grandpa made a trip all the way to some far away place called Posey County and brought home a watermelon! The whole family would gather for slice. When peaches were in season, my aunt would stop at the orchard and bring home bushels of peaches for canning. How sweet those were, unlike anything most people had ever tasted.

While there wasn’t much spare time, the men in the family managed to get in some hunting. Grandpa would clean what was killed, and when there was enough meat, at Grandma’s kitchen table we were likely to find a meal of fried rabbit or fried squirrel in gravy. From the reaction of my friends, I can tell neither of these appeared on most people’s dinner tables, but to us it was perfectly normal and as common as a baloney sandwich, only better! By the way, squirrel and rabbit taste like chicken.

Holidays were celebrated at my grandparent’s house. Thanksgiving was a family affair as we gathered for the traditional meal of turkey, home made dressing, corn, green beans and hot rolls. After candlelight services at church on Christmas Eve, the family would gather for a simple meal of barbeque sandwiches before we were tucked in bed to await Santa’s arrival.
In my family, my memories of food always seem to center around me being at Grandma and Grandpa Young’s house, enjoying simple but wonderful fare as a family or maybe just me and my grandparents.