{"id":2719,"date":"2014-05-09T01:00:41","date_gmt":"2014-05-09T08:00:41","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.therowdybaker.com\/?p=2719"},"modified":"2016-03-09T12:32:04","modified_gmt":"2016-03-09T20:32:04","slug":"mothers-favorite-dish-crab-bake-royale","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.therowdybaker.com\/?p=2719","title":{"rendered":"Mother’s Favorite Dish: Crab Bake Royale"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"collage<\/a>For the month of May, eight bloggers and I are posting “Mother’s Favorite Dish”. There were a couple of ways this could be interpreted: a dish my mom loved to eat or a dish my mom loved to make. I agonized over this, because I truly couldn’t remember what my mother loved to eat.<\/p>\n

I know that she liked raspberries and cream, but that wouldn’t make a very good recipe. She liked anything with butter on it. GOBS of butter. When she was a little girl, visiting a friend of the family with her mother and father, she was asked what she would like to eat. Her answer was: “I’d like some butter with some bread under it.” That was my mom.<\/p>\n

She didn’t have a sweet tooth at all (probably the reason I learned to bake for myself) so desserts weren’t an option. I guess as a typically narcissistic child\/teenager I just didn’t pay attention to what Mom ate! \u00a0And sadly, she’s no longer here to ask.<\/p>\n

I would just have to think this one through, because it was important to me that I came up with the right answer. Hmmmmm.<\/p>\n

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My mom was a young housewife in the 1950’s, inundated with advertising that created rigid standards for young women. Spotless homes, starched aprons, pearls and heels. If you’re old enough to remember “Leave it to Beaver” you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. Did we ever see June wearing anything but a dress and pearls?<\/p>\n

Giving a party was serious business; a husband’s job could depend on the gracious hostessing abilities of the “little woman.” \u00a0These were the years of cocktail parties, hors d’oeuvres, and aspic coated everything<\/em>. Talk about pressure!<\/p>\n

Mom was a very good cook. A very good basic<\/em> cook. She was a left-brained kind of gal – the one you’d go to if you needed something organized. Efficient, capable, but for the most part not creative. She followed recipes exactly, just like her mother did, so all of her “best” dishes turned out perfectly each time.<\/p>\n

She was the queen of roasts and gravies, something I’ve never mastered. And oh, Lord, did she have the whole lime jello thing down pat. Ugh. We entertained often, and company dinners were usually roasts and jello. Pretty predictable.<\/p>\n

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