What I want for Christmas.

While preparing for my second Thanksgiving as the host, I was thinking about my Mamaw. My Mamaw is my Grandpa's mom. This is her with a rather grumpy Elisabeth in 2005:

My Mamaw passed away a few years ago at the grand age of 98. Sometimes it's still hard to believe she's gone because I truly thought she'd live forever. I used to ask her if she was going to live to be older than 100. She'd give me a giant hug and laughingly say, "Oh, honey, I hope the Lord doesn't wait that long to call me home!!".

She came to Pekin from southern Illinois every Thanksgiving. She'd stay with my Grandpa's sister, my Aunt Betty, and we'd all come over Thanksgiving day bringing our side dishes and toys and books (if you were me) and we'd romp around my Aunt Betty's big house, trying to stay out of trouble. It was hard. (For those of you who know any of my cousins or are my cousins, then you know how bratty they all are...still.)

We'd also all wait for Mamaw to make her famous chicken and dumplings. She stand next to a huge pot and would stir in all sorts of ingredients. She never had a recipe, never measured with measuring cups. She knew how to make them by heart. I would stand by her and she'd sneak me and any of her other grand and great-grandkids a small bit of the dumplings or a small slice of chicken. Once the blessing for the food was said, we'd all stand in line grabbing some turkey, corn casserole, green bean casserole, rolls, mashed potatoes, etc. as calmly as possible. But, when it came time to get a serving of Mamaw's chicken and dumplings, there was no shame as to how much everyone would pile on their plates. You quickly learned to scoop as much as you could because there would be no seconds; everyone wanted them and they were the first thing to be devoured every year.

I distinctly remember being in junior high or high school and watching Mamaw make her chicken and dumplings. I was telling her that her dish was my favorite part of Thanksgiving. She said, "Thank you, sweetie. But, you know, someone better write this down, cause I won't be around forever."

I don't know if anyone did write down her recipe. I know I don't have it. And even though I've fond another chicken and dumpling recipe that I successfully make, it doesn't come close to my Mamaw's. I really wish I'd have thought to ask her for that recipe while she was still here with us. I wish that all of the thousands of times she came up to visit and I sat with her and talked about school and family and books and yarn and all the things I loved to talk to my Mamaw about, I had stopped for one minute and asked her to write that recipe down for me so I could make it for my kids and grand kids and great-grandkids some day.

So, this year for Christmas, I have decided I know what I am asking for.

I am asking for recipes from the women in my life. I am going to ask that they write down recipes that they love, that they've made for me millions of times throughout my childhood and every holiday. I'm asking for the recipes that we kids would beg for when we'd visit and still beg for as adults. And, I'm asking them to write it in their handwriting. The handwriting that is so familiar to me and that I will have forever every time I make their dishes.

Thankfully, I was pen pals with both my Mamaw and my Grandma's mom, Mama. Here's my Mama holding a very new Elisabeth in 2002:

My Mama passed away at the grand age of 94, just two weeks after my Mamaw. I have countless letters from them that I treasure greatly. And, while I don't have recipes in their handwriting, I do have memories of standing in the kitchen with them and watching them cook.

So, get ready:

Grandma

Grandma Sandy

Mom

Jana

Aunt Diane

Aunt Delene

Cause you're getting a phone call soon from me.