Spinach and scrambled eggs! I haven’t had spinach and eggs for supper since I was a kid, and that would be before Jan came along. I’ve mentioned our mom was an unimaginative cook. I liked my mom; we were good friends when we were both adults. I gratefully ate everything she put on the table, and we laughed that I had to leave home to learn there was more to food than casseroles and pot roast on Sunday.
One step back. I did not eat the scrambled eggs. She, too, served them with spinach, fresh or frozen. This dish showed up often during a period I later realized was Lent. Accompanied by her standard salad: one leaf of head lettuce on a small plate. One ring of pineapple on the lettuce. One scoop of cottage cheese on the pineapple slice. One maraschino cherry atop the cottage cheese.
I had to leave home to learn there are several ways to cook scrambled eggs. Mom whisked them in a bowl, added a good deal of milk and scrambled them down to extremely wet. Into the Boontonwear serving bowl, call the family for dinner.
Fortunately our table was set every evening with a full complement of silverware. One fork, one knife, one spoon. I could not have made it through scrambled eggs and spinach without the spoon, which I used to discreetly deposit my scrambled eggs on a ledge that ran under the table. I remember discovering to my horror that the ledge was available only on the end of the table, not down the length. I had to swallow cold, wet and runny eggs that night. I didn’t make that seating mistake twice.
In my defense, I did not know scrambled eggs could have a consistency other than runny. I would not have known how to ask or describe anything different. I doubt it would have changed Mom’s cooking. Remember, we grew up on margarine, in respect to my parent’s opposition to farm subsidies. When Mom learned margarine would never pass the door of my adult house she said if she had only known….yea. It still would have been runny eggs and oleo.
All the eggs on the ledge did disturb me. I could get caught. And punished. But that never happened, and the ledge had no egg evidence the next time the Boontoonwear bowl came to the table full of runny eggs. I was one lucky little girl. Musing it over many years later it came to me: the lucky cat!