Dogs and Stewbones

Yesterday I was stewing up a nice pot of homemade beef broth, mostly using the nice recipe found on Simply Recipes that I've linked to. Most of my recipe searches have ended there lately, as I cook from scratch. It's cheaper and healthier, and I have more control of the ingredients in my food. Since I've discovered that I suffer from food sensitivities the benefits have been more than just tasty meals.

I learned how to cook at a very young age. I remember standing on a chair next to the stove while mom fried up breakfast. I learned to wear a shirt even when it's really hot from the spitting and popping bacon on that stovetop when I was just a little critter. I still remember Mom hollering "I told you..." as I ran to the bathroom for a cold washcloth. Guess my kids come by that bullheaded streak honestly. Now when my 10-year-old proudly flips an egg without breaking the yoke or cracks an egg with one hand (yeah, baby, he can do that!) it takes me back to when I was a kid.

Not surprisingly, most of the best memories involved food, whether cooking it, eating it, or never touching it again. SpaghettiOs are a big oh no, not going there, not ever, I'd die of starvation first. Everyone has some smell that makes them want to launch. For my husband it's lemon cream pie. For me, it's SpaghettiOs.

The smell of roasted beef stew bones, on the other hand, just makes me happy.

When I was very small I remember mom bringing home brown bags of cold neck bones from work to make stew at home with what was left on them. She worked at a deli, and we lived in a little 2 room guest house tucked down a long paved driveway. I used to sit on the cement step in the open kitchen door gnawing on one of those bones while my dog waited impatiently, sure I was confused about who those bones were actually for, until I relented and handed over her share. To this day, when I roast and stew beef for broth I remember that cement step, the orange tree shading it, the dusty smell of our backyard, and the slurping and gnawing that both Sugar and I were doing on those stew bones. It was a little moment in time of complete security and contentment. If you want happy kids, get a dog. My dog taught me to share, she taught me patience, she taught me unconditional love, and she taught me never to leave a pet turtle where she could reach it. See, everything is about food.