What Heaven Would Serve

If I got to choose what constituted manna from heaven, I'd choose Grandpa Jobes' grilled roast beef, my sister-in-law, Tammy's mashed potatoes, roasted asparagus and the ripest, freshest summer tomatoes, sliced plain with nothing more than salt and pepper. Why those things? Because they are really the things I'd eat until I burst. Simple, uncomplicated flavors. They are also associated with memories.

Grandpa's beef roast began with a trip to Mike's Meat Market, back in the days when you knew the butcher's name and he knew yours. No grocery store wrapped meat for my grandparents. Mike's was a small, dark, narrow store. Always cool in the summer. Maybe three aisles of groceries, which I never remember purchasing anything from. A single cash register in the front by the door. The real story was at the meat counter, at the back of the store, where Mike himself presided over the lunchmeats and cuts of meat. My memories of Mike were of a large, jolly, sandy-haired man, who presided over the meat counter joking with everyone while he waited on three or four people at a time. Not fat, but certainly well-fed and well-muscled. The sort of guy who could and probably did toss a side of beef around while he trimmed it and cut it in the back. The sort of butcher who'd walk into the back to special cut something for favorite regulars if they didn't see just the thing in the case. Meat was wrapped in white butcher paper in those days, and tied with string, with the cut and total price written on with a black crayon. The cuts I recall were nothing fancy. Rump roasts or maybe a nice sirloin tip roast.

Nothing fancy about the prep when we got back to the house either. I don't recall anything other than a generous sprinkling of Lawry's Seasoned Salt, truth to tell. Not even pepper. Grandpa had a large grill with a hood that had notches to hold the rotisserie rod and the electric motor. Charcoal briquettes were started in a chimney, using crumpled old newspapers. Grandchildren were for crumpling the paper, not too tight and not too loose. Not a hint of starter fluid was used as I recall. The meat was spitted and put over coals that were kept an ashy whitish gray to turn for what seemed like hours, the air of the big backyard gradually permeated with the scent of roasting meat. The roast would come off the grill with a beautiful dark brown crust. The ends were for those who liked their meat well-done, but the inside was just medium rare and juicy. For a child who was given the t-bone from her parents' Saturday night dinner steak as an infant, I never had the aversion to all that red juice on the platter or the reddish pink of the meat. It was heavenly stuff! And since the big beef roast was associated with family gatherings in the summer, it recalls cousins to play with and trips up the road to Great Aunt Darma's pool for swimming.

The mashed potatoes are relatively new, coming from my brother's second wife, Tammy. I look forward to New Year's Day and Thanksgiving because I am assured Tammy will make mashed potatoes for those days. Not a fancy recipe. No gourmet additions to these spuds, just good ol' fashioned country cookin'. Diced potatoes are cooked in a pressure cooker. When they are drained and dried a bit on the stove, a can of evaporated milk, plenty of margarine, salt and pepper are added. The milk is allowed to come to a boil to melt the butter. Then the potatoes are mashed and then whipped to fluffy perfection. Never too thin or too stiff. Perfect to make a "lake" for turkey gravy at Thanksgiving or for more butter and sauerkraut on New Year's Day. One of the best of classic comfort foods, I am always reminded of the good times we've all come to have when we gather our blended family for the holidays. My nephews from Mark's first marriage and Tammy's kids from her first marriage, along with various and sundry sisters, brothers, cousins and other kin from Tammy's large family (she's one of seven children). Tammy's mom and my dad. I'm another aunt now, and everyone knows me as "Tante Mel". My nephew Chad's wife Jaime's mom. Chad (Tammy's oldest) and Jaime's little girl, Courtney, who was just a bump in Jaime's belly when I first met her. Every time we gather, even though we don't tend to talk much in between, I wish that all families could have this kind of gathering.

Roasted asparagus, from asparagus at its peak, and those tomatoes, preferably picked fresh from the garden, could only be had in heaven, as they really aren't at their respective peaks until opposite ends of the summer. I look forward to both seasons every year.

Where's dessert, you ask. I dunno. Who's got room? And besides, I never met a dessert I didn't like. Although my mom's Mississippi Mud would probably be toward the top of the list. I need to make that one of these days for some big gathering. Mom would be proud.

Anyhow, that's what I'd eat if I was given the choice of anything in the world. Just to savor all the memories.