Mary Kate, Sue, Grandma Schmidt and Me, 1960
As we’d enter the hallway of her apartment building, the smells of Grandma Schmidt’s crispy fried potatoes and roasted chicken would float down the stairwell so strongly that we’d all begin to salivate within moments of walking in the door. We’d talk about it on the way up the stairs, murmuring among ourselves about how the other neighbors in her building must be envious of us because of the mouth-watering smells of the meal we were about to enjoy.
She proudly cooked everything from scratch, unlike my mother. Nothing was ever frozen or pre-packaged. I was fascinated to watch her as she’d cook; sweat dripping from her red, flushed face as she strenuously worked at creating her feast, measuring ingredients out with her metal measuring spoons from big white metal canisters.
Some days if we were lucky, she’d bake us her famous home-made chocolate chip cookies. My two sisters and I would gather around her as she measured and combined all the ingredients and then mixed them together by hand, never using a mixer. Once I asked her if I could try to mix the dough myself, and when she let me, I could barely even move the spoon, the dough was so thick and dense. I realized how strong she was, this grammar school educated, barely literate peasant from Germany who came to America on a boat at the age of 13 without her parents.
Even her cooking implements were strong: the heavy black skillet to fry the roasted potatoes thick with onions and seasonings, the large blue and black metal covered dish for the roasted chicken. The kitchen would be steamy and hot, smelly and intoxicating.
When we were young kids, my parents would take us to Grandma Schmidt’s house when we got sick. Both of them worked, so they’d drive us to her home about a half hour away and drop us off in her capable hands. She’d dote over me, welcome me inside and ply me with food. What did I want her to make? Surely if I was sick she could make me better by feeding me some of her wonderful, home cooked food. In Grandma Schmidt’s world, everything could be made better with food.
The home-made chicken noodle soup, the broth rich with flavor, the bits of celery and carrots cooked just right, not too soft; the home-made noodles soft and light in my mouth. There were days when I knew I wasn’t really sick but told my parents that I was anyway, just so that I could spend time in the warm cocoon of food and love that she created.
She came to the United States from Germany at the age of 13 by herself, married, had a family and raised 4 children with a sick husband, who died in his early 60s, leaving her with the task of raising and supporting the family by herself.
Grandma Schmidt and her cooking were the only outward expressions of love and affection in my family. My parents were cold and unemotional with us when we were young, she was warm and physically expressive of emotions. On the surface, she was a grammar school educated peasant who spoke in broken English, but in reality she was the strongest woman in the family.
Grandma Schmidt taught me that women are the ones who you can depend on, who are stronger than men. When I was with her, I felt unconditionally loved and cared for. I learned much about the strength of women from her.
what a wonderful legacy for her to leave behind! To know that you have passed on those qualities to the generations after you must be great. Shame about the generation in between but it’s good to know that the coldness got skipped over and not repeated 🙂
Leanne@crestingthehill recently posted…ticking stained glass off my bucket list
I wish she was around long enough to be involved in my kids lives….they would have enjoyed her so much.
Ah, beautiful post. What a wonderful tribute to your grandmother. I so wish mine had been able to know my own children too. Sharing on twitter now :).
~Julia
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Thank you, Julia! I hope my kids have their own kids before I’m too old to be a grandparent so that they’ll have similar memories….although I’ll never be the cook Grandma Schmidt was.
I had a grandmother like this we called her Nanny Mom. She is where I learned my love of cooking. Well my love of feeding people more, watching them taste really love my dishes is easily credited to her. I wish my kids had known her they would have loved her.
Dawn from HardlyBored recently posted…Minion Monday- The why questions (and a comic)
Me too, Dawn – wish my grandmother had lived long enough for my kids to know her. They would have loved her. Thanks for reading and sharing!
What an amazing woman! Can you imagine the stories that she could have told? It’s a shame that such powerful people in our lives vanish before we realize how much knowledge we could learn from them. I grew up without grandparents and it is something that I was always jealous that other kids had. Now that I am a grandma I am trying to be all the things I wish I had had.
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Oh, so sad that you never grew up with grandparents, Rena. Grandma Schmidt was just wonderful, loving, caring, warm, non-judgemental and full of love. And….the cooking was just out of this world. I wish my own kids had met here, they would have loved her. Your grandkids will have wonderful memories of you, you’re such an involved grandparent. xo
aw, this is such a beautiful tribute to your grandmother. There’s nothing like grandparents!
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Thank you, Becky and YES! Grandparents are wonderful, hoping I get to be one some day 🙂
You’ve made me miss my grandmother. And that makes me miss those days of childhood. A nostalgic, rainy day for me here!
Thanks for your very lovely comment, Carol, glad I helped trigger a good memory for you. xo
Beautiful tribute. I was two when my German grandmother died, but my sisters had stories of love and protection and we all have a legacy of baking recipes. No matter who bakes it, we still refer to them as Grandma’s.
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Thank you, Jennifer. Yes, my sisters and brother and I all talk with longing of her recipes. She never really kept recipes as she had it all in her head, so we’ve lost most of them, but I still have such good memories of our meals with her.
Thanks for sharing, Claudia. I want my granddaughter to have that same deep satisfaction that she is loved. Alas it won’t be for me cooking.
Awwww, that is such a sweet thing to say, Jane. And, you know, the cooking was just the road in, the real payoff was the unconditional love. You’re giving her that in spades. xoxox
What a peasure to read. I love reading memoirs like this. I could smell the chicken and the potatoes and the love. My mother came to this country when she was about 8. She made her famous plain cookies that I adore. Very enjoyable read.
So glad you enjoyed it, Sandra. And I’ll bet you have wonderful stories about your mom as well.
That is a lovely tribute, Claudia. Your grandmother gave you wonderful memories that will always stay in your heart.
She really did. I’m working on other pieces about her, she led a fascinating life.
Claudia Schmidt recently posted…Remembering Grandma Schmidt