Eloise.

Today is my grandmother's birthday.
Or, it would've been.

She passed away last last November, her's making three, in a year of loss of for me. So distraught was I, that I couldn't do anything except make cookies in her honor. I couldn't even go home. I couldn't sit in that room in Paitsel Funeral Home surrounded by all of the "I'm so sorry for your loss" faces.
Again.

It was eleven months earlier that I said goodbye to her son, my father, in that room, surrounded by those same faces. December twenty seventh, was the worst day of my life.

July twenty seventh, I said goodbye to my longtime companion Olivia and now it is March twenty seventh and my grandmother, Eloise's birthday.

The truth is, that I carry around a fair amount of guilt that I did not go home when she passed, nor often enough while she was still alive in Virginia, in the sleepy little town of New Castle.
The truth, is that I worry that she didn't know how grateful I am for her role in my life.
The truth is, that I wouldn't be who I am today without her.

Perfect she wasn't. Evident it was, the day she relieved a chicken from the burden of having a head as a child. Or when she waved three fingers in the air after she claimed "two", was the correct number of cocktails she'd had. Or, from the other side of the door, as I, clad in a nightgown, eavesdropped on her arguements with my grandfather, when I should have been sleeping. I said goodbye to my grandfather in that room at Paitsel Funeral Home.

But, the Eloise I was the most familiar with, was the woman that loved her outspoken, green-eyed  grandaughter to pieces. She spoiled that child--me--and a lot of others, old or young, related or not, gratuitously. She was a vibrant host. Her laugh was downright infectious. She overfed anything within a six mile radius. All of my grandparent's animals had generous bellies and took plenty of naps.
At the local K&W, where the buffet line began with the desserts, I was permitted to pile my cafeteria tray high as I could handle. When I was unable to make a dent in my stack of foods, I never got in trouble, just a simple comment, "Your eyes are bigger than your stomach".
While her three grandchildren swam well beyond the pruning of their fingers, Eloise cut wedges of salted cantaloupe to hand feed her little "porpoises" from the side of the pool. When we hauled our sunburned shoulders out of the water for good, she wrapped us kids in warm towels that she kept tumbling in the dryer, before our skin had time to consider making goosebumps. "Us kids" included me, my brother Jim and Tyson, our youngest cousin. I said goodbye to Tyson in that room at Paitsel Funeral Home, shortly after he turned sixteen.

Eloise spent her afternoons tending her garden, shelling beans, making casseroles and vegetable plates.
She ate tomato sandwiches on Pepperidge Farm bread. She made the best toast.
Her secret was to toast the bread, butter the bread, and then, plunge the bread back into the toaster until the edges were brown and the center was bubbly. She knew just how to do it so that the fire department needn't be called. I have not been so fortunate in my attempts to recreate it.
After hard partying with Nick at Nite until the wee hours, I'd wake to the bacon and coffee clouds she sent wafting through the house. Through her cooking, my grandmother was able to make everything feel warm and safe. She created togetherness with her cast iron.
Her meals made the house come alive.
Though Eloise didn't drink coffee after noon, she always kept a fresh pot hot for anyone that might drop in to say hello and also to make the red eye gravy that she dunked her country ham biscuits in, that they could help themselves to.
A few years ago, I'd asked my grandmother to share with me some of her recipes. She never did, because she didn't really have many. She mostly just improvised. I would have been asking her to articulate something she did just by feel.
I guess I take after her in that way. And so, to honor her memory on her birthday I tried my hand at the small sandwiches that had a perpetual place on Eloise's kitchen counter.

Country Ham Biscuits with Red Eye Gravy.

Happy Birthday Grandma.

My Attempt:

Biscuits

• 2 cups of sifted all purpose flour
• 1 tbsp baking powder
• 1 tbsp raw cane sugar
• 1 tsp salt 
• dash of cayenne pepper
• 1/3 cup shortening
• 1 cup almond milk 

Whisk dry ingredients together. Then cut shortening into the flower until it is evenly distributed and the mixture looks like a course meal. Slowly add the almond milk until the dough clings to itself. Lightly knead once or twice into a ball and let rest for at least one hour covered.
Preheat oven to 425*.
With a flowered surface and rolling pin, roll the dough to one inch thick. Cut circles with a cookie cutter or in this case jelly jar. Place rounds on a greased baking sheet.
Bake for 10-15 minutes or until edges turn brown.

Country Ham and Red Eye Gravy
- you can use Virginia ham, smoked ham slices or cured ham. In this recipe I used smoked slices from Rocky Canyon Farms at The Santa Monica Farmer's Market.

• 1/2 lb smoked ham slices
• 2 tbsp apple cider vinegar
• 1 tbsp bacon grease
• 3 tbsp coffee
• s&p 

Brown ham over low heat. Remove from pan. Set aside. Deglaze pan with bacon grease, apple cider vinegar, coffee and s&p to taste. Give the ingredients a light whisk and simmer lightly until the gravy resembles a "red eye" or a red circle in the middle and a clear outer circle from the oils.
Dunk biscuits in gravy and assemble.
Enjoy.






*Disclaimer:
-this recipe only represents my attempt at Red Eye Gravy.