It was on this day, only 11 years ago, that our family lost my beloved grandmother Tom. I’ve never written about that day. In fact, I don’t know that I’ve spoken of it with more than a handful of people. There are three days in my life that each and every detail live on so vividly in my mind and this is one of them. I was with her on the exact moment she no longer was on this Earth. It is equally as precious as the minutes when my children were born.
Tom
was healthy her entire life, much more so than any other person I’ve
known. She cooked daily until she was 100, never had a problem with
arthritis, and often wore Nike running shoes the last few years of her
life. Only weeks before her death, she was confined to a hospital bed,
but still, uttered not one single complaint. Just like always, she never
missed a moment to say, “I love you,” or to hold our hands.
I
have always felt that Tom and I were connected on an even deeper level
than that of a grandchild and grandparent. Our pure love of the kitchen
bound us like nothing else could. It was her cast iron skillet filled
with fried chicken that first taught me how comfort and love could be
tasted and shared without saying a word.
For
years, we cooked together, ate together, and talked for countless hours
about recipes, cookbooks, and our loves of fat back, Coke in bottles,
and Nathalie Dupree. One of her
finest days was when Mama brought her to cook with Nathalie and me in
the very kitchen she’d seen on television so many times. Simply by
sharing a stove, she taught me how imperative the act of cooking can be
to a state of real happiness. Being blessed with the gift of sharing the
moment when her soul went Home seemed natural and was the ultimate last
chapter in our long story together.
My
parents and I were with her all day, talking of everything we could
think to say. We tried to fill the empty air with subjects that would
keep all of our minds off the fact that her death was eminent. We talked
about food, work, family, friends, and memories of days gone by. The
nurses kept coming in and out, checking Tom’s pulse and blood pressure,
which of course reminded us of why we were all there.
A family friend, Jane Knowles, came in to visit Tom one last time. She held Tom’s hand, stroked her hair, and sang Holy Ground
with a voice that was nothing short of an angel’s. It was during this
magnificent song that Tom left us and went on to meet the Lord she so
dearly loved. It’s as if she waited for Jane and her hymn to say goodbye
to all of us. Recalling these few minutes of witnessing my Tom drift
away leaves me short on words and overflowing with tears.
In
memory of Tom and her life so very well lived, I share her fried
chicken recipe that has brought me comfort hundreds of times. It is with
her skillet that I cook on and never forget.
Copyright 2014 Rebecca Lang Cooks, LLC. All rights reserved.
rebeccalangcooks.com
Tom’s Fried Chicken
1 (3.5 pound) whole chicken, cut into 8 pieces
1/4 cup salt
1 1/2 cups vegetable shortening
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1 cup all-purpose flour
Place
the chicken in a large mixing bowl. Sprinkle with 1/4 cup salt and
cover with cold water. Soak the chicken for 45 minutes.
Remove the chicken from the salt water and drain on paper towels.
Heat the shortening in an 8-inch cast iron skillet or a large deep skillet to about 360 degrees.
Sprinkle
the chicken with 1 teaspoon salt and pepper. Coat each piece
completely with flour, shake off the excess and gently place the chicken
in the hot shortening. Fry 10 to 12 minutes per side or until golden
brown, about 25 minutes total. Fry chicken in batches to prevent the
skillet from becoming crowded.
Check
the temperature of the oil occasionally. If the oil is too hot, the
chicken will be too brown on the outside but not fully cooked through.
Drain fried chicken on a cooling rack placed over a rimmed baking sheet.
Serves 4
Copyright 2014 Rebecca Lang Cooks, LLC. All rights reserved.
rebeccalangcooks.com