Once upon a time, when my brother and sister and I were children and Grandma came for a visit, Mom made her delicious fried chicken for dinner—the first time she had ever made it for Grandma. We all loved it—all of us, that is, except Grandma. My late grandmother, who had always been critical of Mom’s cooking (even though Mom was an infinitely better cook than Grandma), said, “It’s too peppery,” but then she said that about almost everything that wasn’t white, bland, and boring. And, Grandma always said it with such flair, enunciating the word, peppery, distinctly, with particular emphasis on the p’s and highlighting the word with a short pause beforehand. “It’s too—Peppery.” A spicy meatball was not spicy; it was “Peppery.” A hot chili pepper wasn’t hot; it was “Peppery.” During any meal (that she hadn’t prepared), you could always count on her saying at least once, in her unique style, “It’s too—peppery,” and we all found humor in the way she said it.
At one point during the infamous fried chicken dinner, my young sister asked her to repeat it, but Grandma said, “What for?”
“Because it was funny.”
“Funny? What’s so funny about something being too—peppery?”
Sis began a laughing fit.
“Well, I don’t think it’s funny,” said Grandma. “Would you like me to dump the whole pepper shaker all over your food and see how you like it?”
Sis continued to laugh, giggling behind one hand while pointing at Grandma with the other. Grandma was not amused. She unscrewed the top of the pepper shaker and carried out her threat. “There! Now your food is too—peppery!”
As Grandma began her own fit of laughter, Sis sobered up immediately; on her face were definite signs that she was about to cry, her lower lip jutting forward. But, as Sis let out her first whimper, Mom grabbed Grandma’s plate and dumped the whole works, plate and all, into the garbage. Sis immediately resumed her laughter, which exploded like a dam break. Mom stood there with her hands on her hips, looking at Grandma with a most satisfied expression.
“What in the world? Have you lost your mind?” Grandma was flabbergasted. “Why did you do that?”
“Because it was too—peppery!” Mom exclaimed.
At that point, with all of us howling, Grandma appeared to be quite irritated, but soon, she joined in the laughter, as she was always one to appreciate a good joke. After that experience, she rarely criticized Mom’s cooking, because one icy look from Mom was enough for Grandma to understand that she could either refrain from her criticism or go dumpster diving to retrieve her meal.
