Calamity, Meet Jane

Believe it or not, Mamaw, I was listening.

While I will absolutely be posting about Things Somebody’s Mamaw Should’ve Told Me, I figured I wouldn’t be doing my three Mamaws any justice if I didn’t include the things they did tell me.

Because believe it or not, Mamaw…

I WAS LISTENING.

Maybe not every time. Probably not even most of the time. But apparently some things stuck. 😂

And now that I’m the mama, keeping the house, feeding the people and trying to make a dollar stretch, I find myself doing things and thinking:

Well, would you look at that. One of those women taught me this.

So here are a few things my Mamaws—and the women they taught—passed down to me.

1. Burn the Flour, Babycakes

This one actually came to me through my Auntie.

When my son was just a wee little tot, he started getting horrible diaper rashes. It felt like every store-bought cream and powder we tried was too much for his sensitive little skin. Some of the fragrances seemed to make things even angrier.

That’s when my Auntie told me that when her babies were small, she’d gone through the same thing.

And our Mamaw told her to scorch some flour.

Cook it. Let it cool. Put it on that little bottom, give the rash some air when you can, and use the flour to help keep things dry.

So I tried it.

And babycakes, we were amazed.

It worked so well for us that from then on, when somebody I loved had a baby, there was a good chance they were receiving a Tupperware container of brown flour with a little note explaining why I’d just gifted them something that looked like dirt. 😂

It’s simple.

Put plain flour in a dry skillet and cook it low and slow, stirring it so it browns evenly.

And low and slow is important because that flour can go from not doing anything to Lord have mercy, what have I done? quicker than you’d think.

You’re looking for a nice light-to-medium brown—not black, not chocolate.

Think:

Somebody who likes a little coffee with their creamer.

That’s the color. 😂

Then let it cool COMPLETELY before storing or using it.

Is this going to make your kitchen smell amazing?

No.

Quite possibly the opposite.

That’s the price we pay, babycakes.

And somewhere along the way, we discovered the babies didn’t need to keep all the good stuff to themselves.

Chafing? Sweaty summer days? The dreaded swamp butt?

Yep.

We started keeping some in the grown-up bathroom too. 😂

A little Jane disclaimer here: this is an old family remedy that worked well for us, not medical advice. Keep loose flour away from little noses and mouths so babies aren’t breathing in the dust, and if a rash is severe, blistering, bleeding, spreading, persistent, or just doesn’t look right, call that baby’s pediatrician.

2. Sauté the Onions

Supposed to have supper started already?

Got behind taking care of babies?

Dogs? Laundry?

Or maybe you got carried away eating bonbons and watching your soaps?

No worries. GET AN ONION. 😂

Slice that baby up, throw some butter in a skillet and start sautéing.

Within minutes, your house smells like somebody has been lovingly preparing supper for the last two hours.

Your honey walks through the door and smells butter and onions?

We’re right on schedule over here, sir.

He doesn’t need to know you’ve only just figured out what the main dish is going to be. 😂

And the best part is, those buttery onions can go into almost anything—chicken, potatoes, burgers, gravy, pasta, vegetables.

So technically…

you ARE cooking dinner.

Look at you go.

3. Sacrifice a Slice of Bread for the Cookies

Cookies baked just a little too long?

Or maybe your little hands forgot to put the lid back on the cookie container?

Before you accept that you’re now the proud owner of 14 chocolate-chip hockey pucks:

GET THE BREAD.

Put a slice of sandwich bread into the container with the cookies, put the lid on, and leave them overnight.

By morning, those cookies should be softer again.

Meanwhile, that poor little slice of bread?

Hard as a rock.

She sacrificed herself so the cookies may live.

We thank her for her service.

Now, let’s manage expectations.

If you baked those cookies into charcoal, I don’t know what to tell you.

Mamaw isn’t a miracle worker.

But a little overdone? Left uncovered? Starting to get hard?

Bread, babycakes. Bread.

4. Never Return a Dish Empty

This one is simple, but I think it’s one we’ve started overlooking.

If somebody brings you a casserole, cookies, cake, or a little treat and leaves their dish behind:

Do not return that dish empty.

Put a little something in it before you send it home.

And nobody said you have to start whipping up a homemade pound cake.

Store-bought cookies?

Perfect.

Take them out of the package, put them in the dish and send them along.

Manners, people.

Somebody thought enough of you to fill a dish and bring it to your home.

When that dish goes back, send a little love back with it.

And a little gesture can go a long way.

5. There’s Always Enough for One More

This is one I’m still trying to figure out.

My Mamaw somehow always had enough food.

Unexpected company? Pull up a chair.

Somebody else came along? We’ll make another plate.

And now that I’m the grown woman buying the groceries, I’m over here thinking:

HOW, MA’AM?!

Because have y’all seen the price of meat lately?! 😂

But I’m starting to realize that the trick isn’t necessarily making more of the expensive part.

Stretch the meal around it.

You have four chicken breasts and suddenly more people need to eat?

Don’t panic and start thawing another package.

Chop the chicken into smaller pieces. Put it over rice, noodles or potatoes.

Add corn.

Green beans.

Salad.

Bread.

Apparently tonight we’re serving one main dish and four sides.

Nobody cares. There’s food on the table. 😂

The goal isn’t to spend the most money or serve everybody a gigantic piece of meat.

The goal is for everybody sitting at your table to feel comfortable making a plate without worrying that taking food means somebody else won’t get enough.

And that leads me to something my Auntie taught me:

Set out more plates and silverware than you think you’ll need.

Expecting six? Don’t put exactly six plates out.

Put out a couple extra. It’s such a tiny thing, but it keeps a guest from feeling like:

Oh…they weren’t expecting me. Maybe there isn’t enough.

And if somebody unexpected comes along, there’s already a place waiting for them. I LOVE that.

Because hospitality isn’t only making sure there’s technically enough food.

It’s making somebody feel like:

Of course there’s room for you. Sit down.

And if they show up after supper?

Well, that’s easy.

Put the coffee on and make something sweet.

This is where those ridiculously simple old recipes earn their place in the kitchen—like Cuppa Cuppa Cuppa from Steel Magnolias.

Cuppa Cuppa Cuppa 🍰

• 1 cup self-rising flour
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 cup fruit cocktail, juice and all

That’s it.

A cuppa flour. A cuppa sugar. A cuppa fruit cocktail.

Mix it together, pour into a greased baking dish, and bake at 350°F for about 30–40 minutes, or until golden and set in the middle.

No mixer. No frosting. No emergency grocery run.

Three ingredients, one bowl, coffee brewing, and something warm in the oven.

And that’s what I remember about my Mamaws. Hospitality wasn’t a production.

You came over. There was a chair. There was food. There was coffee.

Maybe the chicken got cut smaller. Maybe there were suddenly four side dishes. Maybe supper was over, so you got coffee and cake.

But you were welcomed.

Hospitality isn’t about having the most.

It’s about making what you have feel like plenty.

So come on in, hunnies. We’ll scoot over.

And if all else fails, there’s cake. 😂

— Jane