Time Changes, But Not For Everyone

This Sunday we reset our clocks to Eastern Standard Time. We get back the hour we lost and gain a little sunlight in the morning. It's my favorite weekend of the year. The switch always causes me to think of my grandmother, who never had to "fall back." For her, time never changed. 

Granny also preferred "regular" time. She liked it so much, in fact, that she refused to take part in the annual switch.  Clocks at her house never reflected daylight saving time. 

"That old Democrat time," she'd say, with a shake of her head and a tone that implied the rest of us were foolish for going along with such nonsense. 

She refused to "spring forward," so all summer long, her clocks were "wrong." Actually, they were wrong the rest of the year, too. They were just a little more wrong in summer. 

The discrepancy came about sometime before I was even born. At some point in Granny's life, standard time in East Tennessee was officially adjusted by an hour. I've never learned the details, but other older people I knew agreed this was true. 

She never bought into that change, either. 

Fall through spring, Granny's clocks were an hour ahead of everyone else's. All summer long, they were two hours ahead. She got up to do the milking at 3 a.m. -- her time. She went to bed by 8 p.m. -- her time. 

Granny knew that real time was unchanging. And for all the years I knew her, so was she.

Pinto beans and cornbread

The chill in the air tonight makes me hungry for my favorite winter comfort foods -- pinto beans and cornbread. Add sides of okra and fresh-sliced tomato and it just doesn't get much better. 

The only problem is the time it takes to make a really good pot of pinto beans. It's a half-day process at best. A whole day, including soak time, is better. I don't have that kind of time right now. Canned beans aren't good for anything except chili. A slow cooker can work, but it's just not the same. I like being home to tend the pot on a cold winter day. 

Better still would be my Granny's pinto beans and cornbread. She spent much of her life making beans on a wood-burning cook stove. Hers were perfect. And she had perfectly-seasoned cast iron skillets for making corn bread. That hot, crusty bread with her homemade butter was truly the best. I can't make it like she did. Of course, I don't use bacon grease or lard. You can't make really great cornbread with canola oil. 

You also can't make good, Appalachian style cornbread if you use too many ingredients. Simple is best. That means no egg, and certainly no sugar. Thrifty Appalachian women would never waste those precious ingredients on an everyday food like cornbread. 

Granny was one of those thrifty farm women. She served pinto beans and cornbread twice a day, every day -- even holidays -- her entire adult life. Those were staple foods.  Great food, but what you had on the table every day, no matter what. 

All my grandparents were East Tennessee farmers. They owned their land and grew almost everything they ate. They may not have had much in the way of cash money, but they always ate well. When you grow your own food, the only limit is a willingness to work hard. 

And time. It takes time to grow, preserve and cook the kind of food I grew up with.

But the first cool day I'm home, there'll be a pot of beans on my stove. You can count on it.