In The Kitchen With Maw

     They called her Maw.  Maw Troutwein.  I do not know what her first name was.  If she was alive today she would probably be somewhere around 130, or so, years old, maybe older.

     I never knew her.  She was gone before I was born, but being a late in life child and having two WAY older sisters, they remember her.  Maw wasn't family, at least not blood family, she was a mother in law to one of our father's older sisters.  When you are a kid, blood ties really don't matter, if you are a "maw" to someone else, you can be anybody's "maw".

     One of my favorite stories of Maw Troutwein was her kitchen table.  She always had a variety of 'eats' on the table.  These goodies could range from cake, cookies, butter, cream and some things unrecognizable.  These items were always on the table and when the meal was over, she would cover them with a cloth.....and they would set there.....until the next meal.....or the next day.....or maybe the day after that.  If you showed up between meals, being the gracious hostess, Maw would whip off the cloth and offer whatever lay beneath.  My sisters always said they politely refused to partake.

     This story reminds me of when Mother would talk about digging cooked sausage patties, that had been covered in lard, out of a crock, that was in the cellar, all winter.  Or taking the leg of hog out of the shed, that had been packed in salt, when it was fresh off the porker, and wrapped in newspapers.  She would say that after the mold was scraped off, there would be a nice cured ham.  She also said that sometimes the mold had no end and that ham would have been considered a loss.

     Maw, or any of her family that I'm aware of, didn't die of food poisoning....neither did Mother.

     A young 20 something friend of mine jokingly told me she would never eat at my house.  Well.....I think she was joking.  The reason for this was because I did not see anything wrong with food, that had been cooked, sitting out for a while.  We were discussing the hamburgers she had just cooked on a grill.  There were several left and she said she would feed them to the dog because they would not be fit to eat.  We enjoyed a nice banter about this and I explained that I believed they would be fine.  She told me that her generation had been told differently and that information alone made her generation believe they would get sick if they were to eat it.

     I've pondered her statement for some time.  Belief is a powerful thing.  Not that I would want to eat the tuna salad or deviled eggs, that have set on the picnic table on a hot sunny day, for an hour, but it seems a shame to waste food.  

     Different strokes for different folks.  For now, I'm going to head back to the kitchen and bag up all the sausage and bacon I cooked this morning.  

     I will plead the fifth on whether or not I have eaten a piece of pizza.... that has set in the box.... on the stove..... all night long.