On Fairchild Street was a corner store that I loved to visit as a child. Auntee always cautioned about crossing the street safely, and said some of the items were "too high", but she'd okay the walk--and there was to be no dawdling. "Go, and come right back".
The store carried all of the old school candies, ice cold fruit punch soda, big Jax cookies, and the best potato chips. I wish I could remember the brand.
One day while visiting, I asked Auntee Lillian if I could go to the store. "What you need from the store?", she asked. I told her I wanted some potato chips. She pointed to the sack of potatoes in the corner and said, "You don't need to spend your little money, Baby. Auntee can show you how to make your own potato chips".
I was a little disappointed, but Auntee was a bit of a jack (or Jill) of all trades when it came to domestic tasks. She could certainly cook, (and was adamant about portion control before it was a thing) so I was curious to see if she could top the corner store chips.
She muttered something about home economics as she took several potatoes from the bag, peeled them, then washed them in the sink. Then, she cut them into thin slices before putting a heap of Crisco into a frying pan.
When they were done, I admitted they were the best potato chips I'd ever eaten. It's funny when you're a kid and you learn where things actually come from, and how they're made.
I didn't feel like ordering anything today; really wasn't sure what I wanted to eat, and thanks to a generous friend, I had bowl full of potatoes. I thought about Auntee Lillian all those years ago. She was thrifty, crafty, and creative, and took the time to show me how to do things like creating wreaths out of plastic six-pack can holders, arranging flowers, decoupage, and making pan fried cornbread, and my own Dixie cups--better known in these parts as Slurpees. Today, I was grateful for the potato chip lesson.
"It's alright to buy things, Baby, but it's good when you know how to make it yourself."
.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment