On Mom’s Day

I just found this on my USB Key, and though I’d post it. Here is a picture of my brother, my mom and I on Mother’s Day after Brunch.

Life is just a chair of bowlies

Hubby Bee: You’re into Bowls, aren’t you.

Me: Yes. It’s hereditary.

Hubby Bee:Uh-huh. In his incredibly skeptical tone.

No, really it is! With this summer flying by (we’ve already been cheated out of 3 weeks), the weddings are mounting up, and so are the number of wedding gifts we have to buy. This is how this conversation started. Two weeks ago, I suggested that a friend of ours buy the Martha Stewart set of bowl off of another friend’s registry for their wedding. These bowls are FANTASTIC! I love my set! But, this week, looking at my cousin-in-law’s wedding registry, I noticed that she has this set of bowls on her registry, and they are my must have (for her, of course!). So, fast forward to this conversation that just went down over Gmail chat between Hubby Bee and I.

I’ve already suggested that the Boggs family LOVES pottery. And what is the best for of pottery? Crocks. Women in my family have inherited well-worn crocks and bottle for many generations. These bowls have lived a lifetime of family stories. They have held in them a lifetime of recipes. From blueberry muffins made on a sleepy Summer Saturday, or Gyoza (dumpling) mix for a dinner party after my parents returned from China in 1998. My mother rarely used a bowl from a set of store-bought bowls. All of her crocks are mismatched, and the more mismatched they are, the better! Some of my favorites include the cream colored rippled bowl that always holds the batter to pancakes on Sunday mornings, and the bright green one my father purchased from a local antique shop just a couple of years ago.

Imagine a kitchen cabinet pregnant with bowls. Every shelf a beautiful array of painted porcelain. Some of these bowls are only big enough to hold an egg or two, but some are big enough to old the only recipe that could feed our whole family at one Sunday brunch…the aforementioned Blueberry muffins, doubled. twice.

These bowls may seem trivial to everyone else, but to our family, they are a tribute to our cooking skills. I am not shy about the abilities of my family as cooks. Most things we do quite well at, and these bowls are the symbol of our affection of cooking. To the art of cooking; to fill the stomachs of our longing family members. These are the ones that open their hearts to try our Duck A La Orange for the first time, or to heartily pig out of our famous Thanksgiving day rolls.

Even THINGS like bowls can be hereditary, it’s just a matter of time before someone realizes the importance of crocks to the household and they become the most coveted item of the house. Southern influence? You bet. Maternal influence? Absolutely. It wouldn’t be my mother’s house, aunt’s house or grandmother’s house (not to mention the cooking) without a well-worn, definitely used crock in which to create the concoctions that fill the belly and warm the heart.