I don’t have a lot of memories of Grandma, most of them have to do with birthday shopping or cooking.
I remember she’d plan these grand feasts (at least that’s how I saw it) for holidays. My dad’s siblings would all come plus our family of six. The dining room table was extended to fit us all. A beautiful white table cloth, cloth napkins with fancy rings, genuine silverware and serving dishes sparkled beautifully off the golden chandelier. Grandma taught us how to properly set a table and we got to drink our milk out of crystal cocktail or wine goblets. I felt like royalty! I think my siblings did, too.
As much as I remember the formal settings and intimate family fun, the memories that stand out the most are ones just shared between just Grandma and I.
When I was very little, she took me to the mall to get an outfit for my birthday. I don’t know if she gave me too many sweets or if I was just overexcited, but I remember vomiting all over her car and my brand new outfit on the way back to her house. I don’t remember Grandma getting upset about it — I was a sensitive kid, I would’ve remembered getting yelled at on my birthday.
Not much later, I remember waking up early at her house. It was just her and I in the kitchen and she was going to make me oatmeal. I was used to it being made with water and adding milk later. She said she had a better way, she boiled the oats in the milk!
I don’t remember if I liked it. I don’t remember any other breakfast with her, though I’m sure I had dozens with her and Grandpa. I don’t even know why I remember this moment so fondly. But I do and wanted to share it, just in case I forget it someday.
Here’s the recipe I think she followed:
- Bring 1 cup milk to boil
- Add ½ cup oats
- (I did not add salt)
- Turn heat down
- Stir until thickens