Recipe: Sunday morning breakfast………..

|February 24, 2011
Author: Mama's Kitchen

Every Sunday the whole entire family piled in for dinner (as well as every special occasion and every holiday).


So let's start off with Saturdays in our home. First – the entire house was thoroughly cleaned and scrubbed (like it wasn't done every day anyway!) starting early in the morning. All laundry was done – including the ironing. Now the baking of the cakes, cookies, and pies is being done. Your menu for Sunday's meal is ready and you start your baking (except for the homemade bread and rolls) because both stoves and ovens will be in use all day Sunday with the cooking. But the breads and rolls are made daily anyway. And be sure to bake additional loaves so that everyone could take bread home.


And of course, you still had to make your normal Saturday dinner – another home-cooked meal. So you had to keep an eye on the clock to be sure dinner was on time. The dinner did not interfere with the baking and the baking did not interfere with the cooking.


Sunday morning mom would make a good breakfast – because once you ate and the dishes were done, the meal was started.

Sometimes it was all started before breakfast! I remember the one stove – I loved that stove and it was perfect for Sunday breakfast. Now remember, bread was made every day in our house so mom would have a large (and I mean large!) loaf of homemade bread which was round-shaped – which she would cut off the bottom crust and then slice a large, thick, round slice to place in the broiler and toast for us. Cut like a pizza in wedges and slather on the homemade jams and jellies.


The homemade pancakes would be baking on the griddle that was in the middle of the top of the stove. The back burner on the left side of the stove always seemed to have the percolator going with fresh-brewed coffee. Eggs were usually cooked on the front burner in front of the percolator. Bacon, ham or sausages were frying on the opposite front burner and the huge vat of sauce was on the other back burner.


The Sunday bread was in the oven and a huge turkey or roast would be in in the other oven – using the stove downstairs.


Once breakfast was over – the dishes were done and the kitchen was cleaned. It was time to play prep cook and start on the salads. Meatballs were frying in one pan, and braciole was cooking away in another pan.


Potatoes had to be peeled, vegetables had to be prepped, pastas had to be made – usually several were made – ravioli, lasagna and spaghetti or rigatoni. And don't forget the gravy for the roast and of course – the rolls had to be made.


If we were having turkey or chicken – definitely had to have dressing! We made dressing (stuffing) on the stove top long before they came out with the boxed crap. Oh how rich I would be today if I would have marketed it back then!


There were always homemade pickles, pickled eggs, and various other "compliments" to our meals.


You worked your tail off – but it seemed to be the thing to do. It was natural and when you are so used to it – it's just normal.


But those Sunday breakfasts were great! They filled you up until it was time to eat. And you worked it off too.


Anyone remember that pink dish washing detergent that we had years ago? It was good stuff too! I swear we went through a whole bottle on Sunday alone with all the dishes, pots, pans, etc.


Of course, after dinner, the men rolled themselves into the living room to "digest" while the kitchen slaves, cleaned and put everything away, washed, dried and put away all the dishes and began portioning the leftovers for guests to take home.


On went the fresh pot of coffee and it was dessert time. DESSERT – the word that made the men move fast to the table! And to think they wobbled slowly patting their tummies after dinner. Gee they digest fast – and without doing anything! The women had to work theirs off….

 


Once again – dessert is over – the men have to "digest" again and the kitchen is cleaned up.


A lot of work, a ton of food, a lot of love and sharing –


and the memories will always stay with me.