|Roses by Laura Mercer/A Cook and Her Books|
Cancer is a journey, that’s what they tell you. When they tell you anything at all. In the past year of my mom’s illness, I’ve learned a lot of things, but it mostly comes down to this ~ cancer sucks. Even in these precious cancer-free months, it’s pretty clear that life will not go back to the before, the lunches and shopping trips, the big family dinners and small vacations. They’re gone, replaced by counters of pill bottles and corners filled with medical supplies, a calendar filled with doctor appointments.
How did we get here, I ask myself in low moments. A summer of feeling lousy, the initial doctor visits and tests. On an oppressively hot and humid August day, Mom gave me the heads up and told me she would call after her meeting with the doctor. While she was out, on my break from work, I ran to the store, picked up a wrapped bouquet of bright pink Gerbera daisies and brought it to her house, just around the corner from my office. In the quiet, dark house, I knew that if I sat down, I would bawl my eyeballs out. But I had to face the folks at work, so I reached onto the top cabinet for the pretty blue pitcher. It was dusty. There is never dust in my parents’ house. They have vacuumed, swept, bleached and polished every square inch of this home for 37 years. If there was a smidge of dirt, it was because someone wasn’t able to reach to the top shelf . I guess I knew mom hadn’t felt good that summer.
I left the flowers. Later, Mom called while I was waiting with my girls at their dentist appointments. Because bad news kind of doubles up that way. Yes, it was cancer. And we would get through this. And please don’t cry, Lucy.
* * *
When I think about the house I grew up in, about the comforts of home, there’s an intense longing to look inside the refrigerator. There was always something good in there. The pantry was handy, too, but we didn’t keep a lot of chips and snacks on hand. The Harvest Gold refrigerator held Tupperware containers of chicken salad, potato salad, tuna salad, pasta salad, usually mayonnaise based, the eggy spread being something of a religion in our family. Not that we were partial to any one brand. We were polytheistic in that way.
I always knew that I could come home from work or school late at night, open the refrigerator and find a picnic in plastic. Even in the darkest days of winter, cold fried chicken and potato salad would be so sweet. If it was late, I’d fix a bowlful, creep upstairs to my room, read a book and nibble.
This is my emotions eating, what the Germans call kummerspeck, appropriate for this great granddaughter of German immigrants Otto and Wilhemina . Kummerspeck is literally, “grief bacon,” I truly understand this. And so at my house in 2014, I make a big bowl of potato salad, divide it between my 1990s powder blue Tupperware bowls, save one for Mom and one for those late night cravings.
Cold fried chicken and potato salad
As you will see, these are not really recipes. This is the way I learned to make these two dishes, without real measurements, just following along at mom’s apron strings.
Take three pounds large red potatoes, peel and dice them into ½ inch pieces. Put a pot of water on to boil, add a teaspoon or so of salt, then boil the potatoes for about 15 minutes or until tender when tested with the tip of a knife.
Hard boil three eggs. Place a steamer basket inside a pot, place the eggs on the basket, cover them with water, then set to boil. When it’s bubbling away, cover the pan, turn off the heat and set the timer for 15 minutes. After 15 minutes, pour out the hot water, add cold water and ice and let the eggs chill. After a few minutes, peel and slice the eggs.
In a large mixing bowl, add a ½ medium sweet onion, finely chopped; 3 stalks celery, diced; the potatoes and eggs. Stir in mayonnaise. Begin with about a cup of mayo. Add a squidge of Dijon mustard. Season with salt and pepper to taste, remembering that some brands of mayo can be quite salty.
Place in your finest Tupperware and then in the fridge.
I like to use dark meat and I start with a buttermilk brine. I usually buy a small package of legs and a small package of thighs, but this method can be easily adapted to larger quantities of meat.
1. Place chicken pieces in buttermilk to cover in a Tupperware container and let soak for a few hours or overnight in the refrigerator.
2. Season flour with salt, black pepper, onion powder, granulated garlic. Lawry’s seasoning salt is optional, but an essential flavor of my childhood. Dredge chicken pieces in flour and let sit on a plate or tray while the oil is heating up.
3. Heat oil in Dutch oven on cooktop. I use a combination of vegetable oil and leftover bacon grease, if I have it. Olive oil will do, but is best in combination with vegetable oil, due to its low smoke point.
4. Fry chicken, being careful not to crowd the pan, and adjusting the heat when adding pieces. Cover the pan while the pieces are cooking, and flip after about 5 minutes. Drain chicken on paper towels.
Place any leftovers in your best Tupperware.
This story is part of #LetsLunch, a monthly Twitter party. This month’s topic is Kummerspeck, or grief bacon, the comforts of food in times of great grief. Take a few minutes and explore the world of kummerspeck with the tasty offerings of this talented group of writers:
Annabelle‘s Evil Grief Brownies at Glass of Fancy
Betty Ann‘s Mung Bean Soup with Bacon at Asian In America
Karen‘s Maple Candied Bacon at GeoFooding
Linda‘s Dark Chocolate Vanilla Pomegranate Parfait at Spicebox Travels
Lisa‘s Caramel, Chocolate and Salted Peanut Ice-Cream at Monday Morning Cooking Club
Lucy‘s Slap-Yo-Mama Brownies at In A Southern Kitchen
Margaret‘s Chicken Noodle Soup at Tea and Scones
Rebecca‘s Comforting Toasts at Grongar Blog
Tammi‘s Pot Stickers at Insatiable Munchies
Vivian‘s Hug-In-A-Bowl Noodles at Vivian Pei