Granny's in the Cellar

There's a lovely, rather horrible, little, Girl Scout song with that name, but I won't gross you out with its lyrics. If you're curious about the song lyrics, google the title and you'll get more than you bargained for! Needless to say, the girls adored it and the title popped into my head when my eldest daughter called to comment on my last blog and wanted to know where the recipe was.

Hah! That's what she gets for telling me I'd run out in a hurry because I don't cook all that much!

**Warning to the faint-of-heart!**

The women in my family are not very domestic, nor are we easily domesticated.

We enjoy eating, but we are not devoted to the concept of being personally involved in getting food from its raw state to the stove and onto the table. I know I prefer either having people around who cook or simply going to places where the food is already prepared by someone else, and I believe the girls feel the same way.

My great-aunt Gillie married for the first time at the ripe, young age of 6o to her childhood sweetheart. He doted on her for over 20 years and spoiled her absolutely shamelessly every chance he got. He'd get up at dawn or earlier, feed the chickens and livestock, gather eggs, milk the cows, make breakfast and then wake up his bride. They were the most loving couple I've ever known, and I've always wanted to grow up to be just like her!

Neither my sisters, daughters nor I lay any claim to being Queens of our kitchen. We lead busy lives, have many interests that don't include food preparation, and, let's get serious for minute, isn't that why Kentucky Fried Chicken was created??

None of my children like the same meals. I had to make a chart to remember who liked which vegetable. Finding something everyone agreed on was about as easy as pulling hen's teeth. I openly admit that I saved myself a lot of aggravation by spoiling my girls when they were young by going to as many as 3 or 4 different drive-thru's so everyone could get the burger or shake or whatever was their favorite. I could get them to settle down in a flash whenever I threatened to cook dinner!

My mother was the self-taught cook in our family, but she taught me nothing. It drove her crazy to have me underfoot when she was in the kitchen. I was 13 before I was allowed to do more than eat meals or dry silverware in there! I was lucky I knew enough to keep from burning water when I moved into my first apartment. I even took Home Ec. for two years in high school and all I learned to do was make an excellent pie crust and chocolate tapioca.

I got to help my best friend in high school, Joe, bake numerous, complicated recipes until he almost burned down his mother's kitchen when he turned the electric burner on High instead of Off. Naturally, she blamed both of us for that one, even though I didn't get a single french fry from that batch. We were summarily found guilty of domestic arson (unofficially by his mother) and punished with a weekend spent cleaning and repainting the room. I'm pretty sure she had to replace the metal cabinets over the stove.

We promised to be more careful in the future and for 3 years continued to whip up a mountain of fudge, cakes, souffles and anything he could think of.

Joe loved to bake and cook. He gave his mom another huge scare the day he decided to barbeque even though it was pouring down rain. They had a lower-level garage (they never used for her car) so he raised the garage door and put the barbeque grill in the opening and cooked some pork steaks for the two of us. Unbeknownst to us, the stairwell leading upstairs made an ideal chimney! She came home and saw the smoke coming up from the basement and thought the worst, of course. When she found out the fire was where it was supposed to be, and NOT raging out of control, she laughed, sort of, and it got to be something of a joke, but not one she really enjoyed as much as we did.

Joe was an only child with two guilt-ridden, divorced parents with "friends." He had a stack of records, a stereo, an alto sax, and his own baby grand piano. Throughout high school,we stayed friends, just friends, and took almost all of the same classes. We worked on homework together, belonged to most of the same clubs at school, sang in concerts, and went to dances and basketball games with as many of our classmates as were interested. I cleaned house for his mom for a while, for clothes, instead of cash, including a beautiful, lavender, cashmere sweater set. It was a great relief for me to be away from babysitting duty at home and have time to just be a teen.

At any rate, neither my mom nor Joe ever put a spatula in my hand so my cooking skills are limited. I have a few dishes I enjoy making for myself, and I put my feet under other people's tables whenever I'm invited, and try to refrain from spitting out things I don't like. My 90 year old neighbor has become my new cooking coach, so I expect to learn a few more tricks from her before she retires, or escapes, from that role.

Thanks to Joe, I still love baking, and don't mind taking on a challenging recipe, especially if chocolate is involved, up to a point. It took us three times to get a burnt-sugar cake right-no chocolate in that one, but it was a challenge.

That brings me back to my daughter and her complaint about no recipe in my previous posting.

Here's the one her grandma made for the grand-kids.

I've never made it because, despite my enormous love of all things chocolate, I refuse to eat it in this form. I have tried it, but I do NOT like it.

CHOCOLATE OATMEAL NO-BAKE COOKIES

2 cups sugar
1/2 cup cocoa
1 stick butter
1/2 cup milk
1 tsp. vanilla
3 cups quick-cooking, Quaker oatmeal
(some people add in 1/2 cup of peanut butter)

Combine sugar, cocoa, butter and milk in a saucepan. On medium heat, bring to a boil for one full minute.
Remove from heat. Stir in vanilla and oatmeal (and peanut butter, if you will).
Drop by spoonful onto wax paper. Let cool for at least 30 minutes.

Don't bother to tell me whether you like this one or not. I hope you do, if you like that sort of thing.

Personally, I'm never going to waste cocoa on something I already know I don't like! %P