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Pot Roast Dinner

September 26, 2014


My mom is an okay cook, she can’t make anything fancy, but handles the basics fairly well. Her comfort meals vary with the seasons, this is my fall favorite.

  • A huge slab of fragrant roast beef with onions, nicely browned, well cooked, dripping with juices, so tender that it can be cut with a fork.
  • A big bowl of fluffy, steaming-hot mashed potatoes, lightly salted and peppered, dotted with pats of melting butter.
  • A tureen of brown gravy made from the meat drippings.
  • A bowl of carrots.
  • A bowl of peas.
  • A trayful of fresh-from-the-oven cinnamon rolls.
  • Chocolate cake with chocolate frosting.

We always ate family style, the large rectangular  table loaded down with food. Dad would get out the electric knife and carve the roast at the counter, then carry it to the table, carefully dodging the eager cats and dogs, who were hoping for table scraps. Dad sat at the head of the table. Mom sat to his left, my sister Rachel sat next to her. I sat at the end of the table. My brother Emmett sat to my left and then my sister Bess. There would be margarine, ketchup, mustard, salt, pepper, and a relish tray on the table. For beverages you could have your choice of farm-fresh milk, iced tea, or Koolaid. Sometimes Mom made a spread for the beef by mixing horseradish, Miracle Whip, and Cool Whip together.

We would spend the meal talking, laughing, and eating. Sometimes when my younger siblings were teenagers they would disturb the occasion by engaging in a food fight. My brother still has a scar on his hand from where one of my sisters stabbed him with a fork! Dad was not amused, she was grounded for two weeks.

My mouth is watering, I can almost smell the meal. I think I’m going to buy the ingredients and make it next month.

In response to Writing 101: Happy (Insert Special Occasion Here)!
Today, be inspired by a favorite childhood meal. For the twist, focus on infusing the post with your unique voice — even if that makes you a little nervous.

  1. Sounds exactly like Sunday dinner with my grandmother, if you add in a few loaves of fresh bread instead of the cinnamon rolls. Those she made for Easter and other brunch occasions. 🙂 A lovely read.

    • emilykarn permalink

      Thanks. Mom was even less of a baker than she was a cook, cinnamon rolls were the limit of what she could do. In case you’re wondering, the cakes were always box mixes and the frosting came from a can. If it weren’t for my Grandmother Karn I wouldn’t have known what real baked goods tasted like!

  2. If I hadn’t just eaten I’d feel hungry now. Personally I’d rather have the basics than the fancy stuff any day.

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