DAYDREAMING OF AN OLD CRAVING

Who needs to be pregnant to have cravings? On that note, something I saw posted on Facebook struck a chord. It asked, “Who remembers being forced to eat your liver and onions?” The first response to the posting was: “Didn't have to be forced. I love liver and onions with grits!! Still eat today.” My cousin Alyce replied to that comment: “me, too.”

When I was carrying my first child, I asked my mother to please make liver and onions. That was one of the favorite dishes my father enjoyed, and I was coming by to share. Mmmm. Regrettably, I never attempted to prepare the dish. My husband had no yearning for it, even though I would tell him it was like the smell of egg salad from our school lunches after the sandwiches had been sitting in our lockers all morning. In our shared memories, there was something oddly tantalizing about those welcomed sandwiches.

Reading the Facebook entry made me suddenly crave the long-forgotten liver and onion dish. Morosely, I felt deprived because I knew I would never have that taste again. For one, sadly, my mother is gone with her recipes and culinary skills. If I wanted to try replicating the savory dish, it could be more of a disappointment if the taste was not the same. Plus, I would not know where to begin. Of course, these days, I could scour the internet and try replicating the recipe.

Maybe, after the pandemic, I can find a kosher restaurant that offers the delicacy on their menu. This way, if it doesn’t come out the way I remember, the chef could be to blame.

I am unaware of anyone in my league of friends who prepares liver and onions. If they do, I doubt any of them could make my mouth water the way that my mother's did just thinking about it now. I could inquire if my cousin Alyce has the recipe, but again, I doubt it would come out the same as my mother’s.

The thought of my friend Sarah stating that no one likes chicken soup that someone else makes as much as their own or their mother’s, makes me laugh. Just mull over that suggestion for a minute.

For now, I can think back to that meal that filled my pregnant belly well over a generation ago. Delightedly, the thought brings me back to the soothing comfort of my mother’s kitchen. I can picture myself there feasting on liver and onions sautéed to perfection. In my mind’s eye, across the table, my father sits with his face glowing, emitting his memorable beaming smile. Since I was the pregnant one, my face was probably glowing as well.

Snapping out of the past and looking to the future, I muse at my 22-month-old baby granddaughter at my kitchen table, eating bowtie pasta garnished with cheese and sautéed sweet onions. It is a wonder if she will ask me to make that dish again, and again, the way she requires that I read her rounds of the same book. For that favorite pastime, she sweetly summons, "again, again," adding, "just one more time."

Will my granddaughter carry memories of my cooking? Hopefully, she will savor the memories as much as the tastes. For now, I perk up with the thought of us sharing kitchen time and preparing some of her favorite dishes.

Maybe she will enjoy hearing about the liver and onions my mother prepared. The thought of something I craved when I was expecting her daddy thirty-three years ago still arouses my taste buds and warms my soul.

Liver and onions