When I was little one of my favorite side dishes that my mom would fix for dinner was macaroni with onions and tomato juice. Don’t scrunch up your nose if you have never tried it. In fact I would fill my plate with the pasta and just skip everything else if I could get away with it. This is one of my comfort foods when you live far from family, you are having one of those days, or nothing else sounds good, this is it for me.
I tried fixing it for my kids when they were little, but they are the pasta and butter or white sauce kind of eaters. That was okay with me because then I didn’t have to share and I had leftovers for several days. And yes it is better the next day or the next.
I love tomatoes! Tomatoes for breakfast, lunch, dinner, sliced with salt sprinkled on them, on a sandwich, on a hamburger, or whole tomatoes right out of the garden, just rinsed off and ready to enjoy.
Today is one of those days…I’m tired, moving kind of slow, lots of little things to do and not getting them done fast, hungry but don’t really want anything…except mom’s macaroni and tomato juice casserole.
Recipe:
1 pkg. pasta, elbows, bowties, macaroni, your choice
1 large sweet onion
1 - 46 oz. can tomato juice
Salt & pepper
Dice onion finely and add to a 2 qt casserole.
Cook pasta according to package directions for al dente. Add to casserole.
Add tomato juice to cover, it should not soupy but definitely should not be dry. (You may need to add more tomato juice during cooking).
Salt and pepper to taste. (My grandmother Chloe loved black pepper so I use learned to love pepper at a young age. My friend eggs always had a nice black coating over them. Pepper just makes everything better).
Cover casserole dish and bake at 3250 for 45 minutes. Check during baking time to make sure pasta does not absorb all the tomato juice.
I hope you enjoy this recipe from our simple Missouri Southern roots.
Showing posts with label Ozark. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ozark. Show all posts
Friday, April 09, 2010
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Aunt Elma
On Saturday morning I received an email from my brother Jerry letting the family know that my Aunt Elma, who has Alzheimer’s, was very ill and Hospice had been called to help provide care in what is now her final days. From the prognosis, she may not make it through the weekend.
So after the shock, after the tears, and checking on my mom to see how she handling the news of her sister, it was time for prayers.
All I can do now is look back at the childhood memories of visiting my cousins at my aunt’s farm. From the time we moved from Missouri to Oklahoma to California, my parents and I would usually take two weeks in the summer and return to Missouri to visit the family. My dad was from Dadeville/Greenville, Missouri, and my mom is from Ozark, Missouri.
When my dad couldn’t get time off, mom and I would take the Santa Fe Chief train to Kansas City and then ride the milk train down to Springfield where someone in the family would meet us. It was a two day trip by train but it was fun spending time with my mom and exploring the train, sitting up in the dome car watching and wondering about all the small towns we went through, and who would live in some of the remote places we passed through.
I always wanted to stay with my aunt because my cousins Carl Jr., Rita, and Johnny were closer to my age. We played hide and seek in the barn, brought the cows in for milking in the afternoon, caught fireflies at night, played button, button, who has the button, and slept on feather beds.
My grandmother, when she was alive, lived with my aunt for many years. Sometimes when I stayed, I would sleep with my grandmother in her bed. I would lie in bed in the mornings watching her bend her head over and comb her long grey hair, then twist it up into a bun on top of her head. She always wore a simple muted calico day dress with buttons up the front.
Whatever my cousins did, I wanted to do also. It may have been chores for them, but for me it was fun being down on the farm. Trips to the county fair, my first what-a-burger that was a half pound and considered a really big burger back in the early 60’s, and custard ice cream at the local drive-ins. My favorite place was the town square in Ozark and the little drug store with old fashioned booths, a drugstore counter, and a small wooden dance floor with a juke box. Going to town was a big deal for everyone. Occasionally my aunt would stop near the top of the hill on our way home at a little burger place to get Fritos with ground beef and cheese, always one of my favorites.
Mom and I would always go to the little wood shop in Ozark to look for souvenir items to take home with us. I still have a little wooden box for the diary I kept, although the diary is long gone. I also have a wood and glass lazy Susan serving tray that my aunt gave me years ago from the wood shop.
My aunt loved Coke, and she keep the little pantry off the kitchen stocked with it. For me having a Coke was a treat because we didn’t drink soda at home. Mom always had a pitcher of southern sweet tea at home which I love, but when you are small it is the little things that you only have on special occasions that bring back memories.
After the cows were milked in the morning then it was time for breakfast. My grandmother would be mixing the dough for the rolls from a starter she kept on top of the refrigerator. It was always a typical farm breakfast plus cold cereal for anyone who wanted it. My grandmother loved to eat cornflakes but she didn’t like milk, so she would pour a little black coffee over her cereal and she was happy.
One winter when my mom and I were visiting for Christmas, my mom bundled me up in warm clothes and my aunt had one of my cousins saddle up one of the horses so I could get out of the house and ride in the snow covered pastures. I don’t remember being cold that day, just sitting up on that big shaggy haired horse whose body radiated heat and how much fun it was to ride through the thickly covered fields of white powdery snow.
Since I had moved away and lived in what my aunt called the city, she didn’t think that I could cope with going down to the barn one summer to watch a cow give birth. It didn’t matter how much pleading and begging, she made me stay up at the house. My aunt forgot that the front steps to the house faced the barn door and that is where I perched, watching the whole birthing process. I was so excited to tell her I watched when she got back to the house and she just laughed. I guess she hadn’t even thought about the front steps, because like most farms you use the kitchen door or the back door, to come and go and the front door is for guests and salesmen.
It has been ten years since we held a family reunion in Missouri and that was the last time I saw my aunt. It seems like such a long time ago and yet those childhood memories of the times I spent on the farm are so close to my heart, just like my aunt.
My aunt Elma passed away today, January 11th, 2009, at 3:00 AM.
My mom was one of four children. My uncle Ted and is wife Ida, Uncle Leonard and Aunt Faye, Aunt Elma and Carl are gone. My dad H.O., his brother Jack and his wife Dot, my uncle Paul T are all gone. Now only my dad’s sister Juanita remains in my mother’s generation and she also has Alzheimer’s. Please, God, give my mother strength to deal with yet another loss of one of her loved ones.
So after the shock, after the tears, and checking on my mom to see how she handling the news of her sister, it was time for prayers.
All I can do now is look back at the childhood memories of visiting my cousins at my aunt’s farm. From the time we moved from Missouri to Oklahoma to California, my parents and I would usually take two weeks in the summer and return to Missouri to visit the family. My dad was from Dadeville/Greenville, Missouri, and my mom is from Ozark, Missouri.
When my dad couldn’t get time off, mom and I would take the Santa Fe Chief train to Kansas City and then ride the milk train down to Springfield where someone in the family would meet us. It was a two day trip by train but it was fun spending time with my mom and exploring the train, sitting up in the dome car watching and wondering about all the small towns we went through, and who would live in some of the remote places we passed through.
I always wanted to stay with my aunt because my cousins Carl Jr., Rita, and Johnny were closer to my age. We played hide and seek in the barn, brought the cows in for milking in the afternoon, caught fireflies at night, played button, button, who has the button, and slept on feather beds.
My grandmother, when she was alive, lived with my aunt for many years. Sometimes when I stayed, I would sleep with my grandmother in her bed. I would lie in bed in the mornings watching her bend her head over and comb her long grey hair, then twist it up into a bun on top of her head. She always wore a simple muted calico day dress with buttons up the front.
Whatever my cousins did, I wanted to do also. It may have been chores for them, but for me it was fun being down on the farm. Trips to the county fair, my first what-a-burger that was a half pound and considered a really big burger back in the early 60’s, and custard ice cream at the local drive-ins. My favorite place was the town square in Ozark and the little drug store with old fashioned booths, a drugstore counter, and a small wooden dance floor with a juke box. Going to town was a big deal for everyone. Occasionally my aunt would stop near the top of the hill on our way home at a little burger place to get Fritos with ground beef and cheese, always one of my favorites.
Mom and I would always go to the little wood shop in Ozark to look for souvenir items to take home with us. I still have a little wooden box for the diary I kept, although the diary is long gone. I also have a wood and glass lazy Susan serving tray that my aunt gave me years ago from the wood shop.
My aunt loved Coke, and she keep the little pantry off the kitchen stocked with it. For me having a Coke was a treat because we didn’t drink soda at home. Mom always had a pitcher of southern sweet tea at home which I love, but when you are small it is the little things that you only have on special occasions that bring back memories.
After the cows were milked in the morning then it was time for breakfast. My grandmother would be mixing the dough for the rolls from a starter she kept on top of the refrigerator. It was always a typical farm breakfast plus cold cereal for anyone who wanted it. My grandmother loved to eat cornflakes but she didn’t like milk, so she would pour a little black coffee over her cereal and she was happy.
One winter when my mom and I were visiting for Christmas, my mom bundled me up in warm clothes and my aunt had one of my cousins saddle up one of the horses so I could get out of the house and ride in the snow covered pastures. I don’t remember being cold that day, just sitting up on that big shaggy haired horse whose body radiated heat and how much fun it was to ride through the thickly covered fields of white powdery snow.
Since I had moved away and lived in what my aunt called the city, she didn’t think that I could cope with going down to the barn one summer to watch a cow give birth. It didn’t matter how much pleading and begging, she made me stay up at the house. My aunt forgot that the front steps to the house faced the barn door and that is where I perched, watching the whole birthing process. I was so excited to tell her I watched when she got back to the house and she just laughed. I guess she hadn’t even thought about the front steps, because like most farms you use the kitchen door or the back door, to come and go and the front door is for guests and salesmen.
It has been ten years since we held a family reunion in Missouri and that was the last time I saw my aunt. It seems like such a long time ago and yet those childhood memories of the times I spent on the farm are so close to my heart, just like my aunt.
My aunt Elma passed away today, January 11th, 2009, at 3:00 AM.
My mom was one of four children. My uncle Ted and is wife Ida, Uncle Leonard and Aunt Faye, Aunt Elma and Carl are gone. My dad H.O., his brother Jack and his wife Dot, my uncle Paul T are all gone. Now only my dad’s sister Juanita remains in my mother’s generation and she also has Alzheimer’s. Please, God, give my mother strength to deal with yet another loss of one of her loved ones.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Ozark Mules
My parents have subscribed to a wonderful magazine called The Ozarks Mountaineer for about thirty years. Mom reads each issue and then passes them onto to those of who want them. I always enjoy reading them when I visit and take them home to Larry to enjoy.
The magazine is filled with stories of people, places--some of which don’t even exist anymore--food, tall tales, events, and the history of the land I call home. I was born in Lockwood Missouri and my sister Mary has a piece of the hospital wall where I was born stored in her house at Branson waiting for me to come and retrieve it. The hospital was being torn down and she just happened to be driving by that day and asked the construction workers if it was possible to have a small piece and they said sure and loaded a piece about three foot by three foot into her trunk. Someday I will bring it home, but for now it is safe.
My mom was born in Ozark and my dad was born in Dadeville. Some of my best childhood memories are taking summer vacations to visit my grandparents, aunt, uncles, and cousins. Occasionally my mom and I would take the train to Kansas City at Christmas and then ride the “milk train” to Springfield where a family member would pick us up. Those old routes between Kansas City and Springfield are gone but not forgotten.
Daddy always told me that if you came from Missouri (we pronounce it with a short a sound on the end --Missoura) then you were from the “show me state” and “stubborn as a mule.” This would explain why I need to know how to do things for myself, or why if you want me to do something I need to know why. I guess this line of thought follows the other slogan for my home state “mule headed.” Yes, I have my hand raised!
Reading the March/April 2008 issue of Ozarks Mountaineer there was a great article on Calvin Jones: Voice for Missouri Mules. This gave me a new prospective and respect for the Missouri state animal. Mr. Jones said, “…the truth is having any of those phrases used to describe you should be considered a compliment.”
Mules are smarter than most people think. They are half horse and half donkey. Mules won’t do something they aren’t sure about, will take breaks when they are tired, can withstand more stress, and work under hardship. This is so me. They also have very long memories. Yes, that’s me. If you mistreat a mule he will get even with the person who hurt him. Maybe someone should check my DNA because this sounds just like me.
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