With the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday I marvel at the cooking programs on T.V. that give the nod to one of the most challenging tasks in culinary execution and that being making gravy. I still find this hard to understand. Where I come from in rural Indiana you were not considered fit to date until you had the proper instruction in the "art" of making gravy. Now for those of the less rustic palette when we usually refer to "gravy" here in the heartland it is one of two things......the mainstay of any true rib stickin' breakfast-sausage gravy or the condiment that you would go to war for and that is "fried chicken gravy". Both of these have the same major component of milk that tend to scare some of the mamby-pampby cooks.
As for a recipe....who has a recipe for something as second nature as washing your hair. We grew up watching our moms and grandmas make gravy so we knew the procedure just from mimicry. My mom used to tell about one of her brothers that tended to be just little "persnickety" shall we say. He would just get plum mad if he found a lump in the gravy. Of course grandma said if there was just one lump he would get it! My how qualifications for a suitable young lady have changed. Instead of a hope chest full of quilts and a recipe box full of family standards they come equipped with belly rings and a prepaid cell phone account. Is is the requirements of the males that have changed? I hardly think so. You set any man down to a fine plate of homemade biscuits and gravy and they could care less if you are wear lingerie from Victoria Secrets.
Perhaps I am preoccupied with this idea because I have reached this point in my life that the only enticement I have to offer the opposite sex (aside from titillating conversation) is a well stocked pantry and the cookware to put it to good use. Oh my how things change. I have traded my pepper grinder for my perfume atomizer. So be it. Most anthropologists will tell you one of the major components toward the extinction of certain societies lies in the inability to conform and adapt to change. I must admit I am not willing to convert to the new wave completely. So if I you come to my house for dinner....I won't ask you if you "want fries with that"....more like "you want gravy with that!"
Still stirrin' out the lumps
Down on the farm in Indiana
(c) 2011 Ellen Wilson-Pruitt