Dolly’s Recipes, from My Mother’s Day

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My mother left this earth almost nine years ago and I miss her everyday. She had an interesting life starting as “doll baby” born on a Texas farm.

She grew up during the Great Depression, when in addition to the obvious hardships brought by scarcity, she contracted malaria, typhoid and then helped to successfully nurse her siblings through the same—“tough stock” they used to say. At 18, she left the farm, moved to a “home for women” near Dallas, and in a rare-for-her-day act—went to college at what is now TCU. At 22, she renewed her acquaintance with my Dad over a crossword puzzle in a Dallas coffee shop and then, a few months later, married him, a hometown boy she’d known since she was 7. Soon after, Dad enlisted in the Army and left Texas for World War II.   Mom stayed home through her pregnancy and birth of my brother, and then the psychic drama and trauma of a house fire which completely consumed everything they owned except a pair of green alligator high heels, her housecoat,  and my brother and the diaper he had on. She moved home to her family’s Central Texas farm with my brother until Dad came home from the war. Dad stayed with the government and they started a life adventure which took them to many parts of Europe, Washington DC,  and an interesting life rich with friends and family and mostly good times that they shared for 58 years.

I entered the story later in their marriage when they were in Germany,  and I lived my young life with them in Europe. We moved a lot—usually every two years. For my parents, home was always Texas, and I think that was true for my brother too. For me, home really never was a place—I didn’t know Texas really well and we were Americans—not German or French or British or Scandinavian or anything from wherever we might have been at the time. So the concept of home as a place is lovely, but not innate for me. Not surprisingly, when I think of a home, I think of the constants that we carried with us through that peripatetic life—a lot of books, photographs, a few pictures and paintings and collectibles—and no surprise since you’re reading this on my blog—the recipes. As I am, my mother was a recipe hoarder—she loved nothing more than to leaf through cookbooks, magazines, her own mother’s recipe box, and those of her friends–and I have had so much fun inheriting those treasures and leafing through them myself.

In honor of Mother’s Day, I’m repeating a few here that I’ve posted over the years and that remind me of Dolly, my dear mom. Nothing fussy here—Mom had her fancy side from all those years of elegant living—but at heart she was always a Texas girl, with simple tastes that wherever we were, always made us a warm, happy and lovely home. Happy Mother’s Day.

Dolly’s Deviled Eggs

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Clam Dip

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Chicken Divan

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Strawberries with Sour Cream and Brown Sugar

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Texas Sheet Cake

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3 Responses to Dolly’s Recipes, from My Mother’s Day

  1. PAM SHARP-NOLEN says:

    HI SUSAN,
    WHILE READING YOUR MEMORIES AND DOLLY’S RECEIPES, IT BROUGHT BACK VERY FOND MEMORIES FOR ME. I HOPE YOU AND YOUR FAMILY ARE DOING WELL. I AM GOING TO BE A NANA. ANDREA & PATRICK ARE EXPECTING THEIR FIRST CHILD APRIL 8, 2015… I CANT WAIT. I AM OVER THE MOON. WISHING YOU AND YOURS THE BEST IN LIFE. LOVE YOU PAM

  2. Susan says:

    Pam, I am so happy for Andrea and Patrick–and especially for you! I know you will be a fantastic Nana. Send pictures and news–we love babies!!!!!Love you too, Susan

  3. Arthur Miller says:

    Hy Susan….Just happened to go to Sauce and Sensibility and found your touching Mothers Day remembrance of your mother (and Dad). Marge and I miss them too and were really interested in your mother’s life story (stuff we never knew). We loved having them, and you, as neighbors. We’re going to have a Fourth of July reunion of most of our families at Sue and Grady’s home in Marietta, Ohio. Hope you and Bob and the boys have a grand holiday.

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