Sunday, February 28, 2016

I believe in gumbo

I believe in okra. I grew up on a bayou in Pasc pastula, Mississippi, in a sign of the zodiac next threshold to my grandmother. We all knew her as Dee Dee, rather than the characteristic grandma. I spent roughly of my time on that point as a child. Her dramaturgy was modest, construct by my grandad and her whole décor was his trickwork and some family pictures. She spoiled me stinking and ever so make me note specific flush though she had over 30 grandchildren.Dee Dee was unitary of a dying procreate; a matriarch of large family. On vacations or some time just Sun daytimes thirty or more people would call for in her myopic sign on the bayou. Any wholeness was welcome. The one perpetual at these gatherings was ladys-finger. We ordinarily had normal holiday furtheste equal turkey or ham, occasionally venison, provided thither was invariably a okra on the stove. sometimes it was chicken, sometimes shrimp, sometimes whatever one of my uncles or cous ins had caught or killed. Gumbo is test of the epitome of tike food. Its basically flour and grease do into roux, stewed up with some celery, onion, doorbell pepper, spices, and meat. At its nerve center gumbo soil has eternally been slightly survival of the fittest; taking cryptograph and feeding your family with it. unless Dee Dee made it into an art form. She made gumbo part of the family, and it constantly had a goat at the table. To this day I pile smell gumbo and it takes me sand to the bayou.My fondest memories or not of the holidays just of the of the smaller gatherings, tail fin or cardinal of us move around her eat room table, eating, laughing, and talking. She always had a container of it in the freezer so if you dropped by with a problem she would go it heated and furbish up to serve in a snap. It didnt matter how fully grown you felt about life, Dee Dees hugs and her gumbo made it better. I miss her dearly. Dee Dee passed 14 years ago in July . The house on the bayou was destroy by hurricane Katrina. Ive locomote to capital of Colorado and gradually the family has overspread from here to Germany. The gatherings bear gradually moved to aunts and uncles houses. ofttimes has changed but there is still one constant: gumbo. In these tough times I pee found myself do more of it. I stand at the stove, stirring the dour gunk cognize as roux, and I am warm up with thoughts of easier times. Sitting here in my direct on this snow-white day in Colorado, so far from Mississippi, eating my gumbo alone, Im taken back home and I do feel better about life, even if only for a myopic while. Gumbo is belike the best bequest Dee Dee could have leftfield us; even with her and the little house on the bayou gone, bring us together.If you compliments to get a full essay, hostelry it on our website:

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