1 lb ground beef, browned1 large can chow mein noodles
1 cup chopped celery
1/2 cup onions
1 can chicken and rice soup
1 can cream of chicken or cream of mushroom soup
1 10 oz package mixed frozen vegetables
Saute celery and onions; add to meat. Add soups andvegetables. Mix in most of the chow mein noodles(save some to sprinkle on top). Bake in casserole for 1 hour at 350 degrees - Bernice Nelson
(recipe contributed by Deni)
3 comments:
OK. Totally loving this casserole is my realization that even though I was born and raised in California, the heartland of the United States is still deeply embedded in my DNA. Are your parents from South Dakota or Nebraska? Forget trying to fake being California-sophisticated—you have roots in places you’ve never been, and you can’t pull them out.
As an example, this casserole was DELICOUS. I should know, cuz I had it at Grace Lutheran every time the “49ers” had a potluck. I thought this dish was terribly “exotic” because of the Oriental Noodles (chow mein noodles) that it contained. Those crispy oriental noodles showed Style and Flair, we Lutherans weren’t afraid of trying something "foreign" in our food.
The 49ers--those would be the old folks that immigrated from the midwest in 1949, or something like that. (That can’t be quite right, but Mom can probably clarify…I personally thought it was 1849 for years.) Some people think the “49ers” are a football team, but I know it’s a bunch of old people at a Lutheran church lined up around a folding table, tasting each other’s casseroles. They came to California to work in the shipyards in Richmond—the rest is history!
But the potluck conversation would go on like this: “Taste Whetacallum’s, hers is delicious!” I thought for years that “Whetacallum” was one of Grandma Bea’s best girlfriends, some special gal in her ladies’ circle at church. How did I now she just meant “whatcha call her?,” cuz Bea was probably suffering (excuse me CELEBRATING menopause and probably couldn’t remember her girlfriend's names in her late 50’s) “Whetacallum”… Oh, Ya, that’s how da Svedes and da Nor-ve-gians tok, don’t cha know?
(Since we’re on the subject of Lutherans, Dione, this would be a fine time to tell how Grandma Bea and Grandpa Ed drug you to Wilson & Kratzer after church every Sunday to View A Friend. I was explaining this to Courtney on the way to our massage the other day—“we’ll just whiz in, pay our respects, view the body, sign the book, and leave.” Now to Chuck, this would be Major Trauma, but we Nelson Girls were Raised To Find it Perfectly Natural.)
(Denise, one of us will eventually have to tell the story of Grandma McGraw at Uncle Vane’s funeral…)
But my all-time favorite was when Mom and Dad broke the glass ceiling and began letting the Nelson Sisters be Family Pall Bearers—being a male in a suit and tie was no longer a requirement in our family for this honor, our parents were enlightened and progressive. Unfortunately, on that particular day I came close to slipping in the mud hauling my part of Grandpa McGraw’s casket, cuz my back was seriously out…but Dad saw me struggling and stepped in to assist. I’ll always remember Dad’s words, “Oroville would have loved knowing his last ride was with women.”
Ok, Yikes, this “Recipe Comment” has seriously deteriorated away from food and Grandma Bea’s Hot Dish. Please allow my apologies, I’m a little warped: I was raised with an Uncle (Maurie Press) who worked in a graveyard. This basically scared me a lot about him when I was young; he was way scarier than Uncle Duane when I was Dione’s same trusting age. Maurie always had to leave family gatherings cuz he was “working graveyard that night” How was I supposed to know it was a SHIFT? I knew he was out there in a cemetery with a flashlight and the dead people. Parents, they don’t tell you anything…
I've never heard the Grandma McGraw
at Uncle Vane's funeral story. . .so one of you must come clean and tell the story. I too got the chance to take Bea down to Wilson and Kratzer for a viewing of one of her very close friends. She was in a hurray to get down there, so I jumped in the shower, threw on my clothes and thought that I looked quite presentable.I rushed to pick up Bea and luckily we were the only visitors there. When we came out of the funeral home into the bright sunlight, I looked down and to my horror,I discovered that I had on one purple pump and one black pump.
Bea thought it was very funny and I was sure that her friend wouldn't be telling anyone.
OK, Mom, here's the Your Mom (Helen McGraw) at her Brother-in-Law's (Uncle Vane’s) funeral Story.
Deni and I may never have told you. (However, it’s highly unlikely, that we could have shown such sensitivity.)
First, some background on my Grandma Helen, my Mom’s (Dolores) mom: Helen was quite possibly one of the brightest women I have ever known. She was smart as a whip. She weathered the Depression, came to California. Somewhere along the line, she and her sister, Ruth, married Orville (my grandpa) and his brother Vane. So my Mom and her cousin Linda are Double Cousins. Anyway, as I said, Helen was one of the smartest women I’ve ever known. She was a credentialed elementary school teacher when I was growing up. Besides being a cool tooth fairy, she was a great grandma, took us to cool places, bought me my first watch, fed us extremely well…and for some reason, really liked my dad as her son-in-law. When I think of her, I think of a stern but loving woman that I adored. She always made us feel extremely loved. She is one of the women I most admire.
Sadly, Alzheimer’s struck her in late-middle age, when she was winding up her teaching career. It was rotten luck to see such an intelligent woman struck down by this disease. As it began, we didn’t even really understand what was happening to her, she was still so young.
Whatever my Mom’s personal agony had to be about seeing this disease striking her own mother, somehow she made sure that we young kids weren’t totally freaked out about it, cuz it was scary to watch. People with Alzheimer’s do crazy stuff. Grandma used to cart around tons of Sunset magazines, 6 purses at a time, leave the stove burners on, etc. But somehow my Mom and my Aunt Marge helped us kids keep it in perspective: “OK, here comes Grandma, she’s got six purses, watch where she puts them, we’ll need to find them all before she leaves.” So somehow my Mom made sure we treated this disease with respect, but helped us keep a healthy perspective and a sense of humor about it. Cuz it keeps on coming at you, chugging down the track, watching the person you love slowly deteriorate before your eyes.
But back to life’s weird little moments. Uncle Vane’s Funeral. (My great uncle that had a Clark Gable Mustache) This was my grandma’s own brother-in-law. Her sister’s Ruth’s husband. Her own husband Oroville’s brother. I’m talking “entwined family.” Uncle Vane had passed away and, of course, it was the subject of conversation all week. That’s all we talked about. When the viewing was going to be, the funeral, etc. etc. Who would be bringing the jello salad, when the relatives were arriving, etc. It was just talk talk talk all week long; and Grandma Helen was totally in the Thick of it All.
So, the family got to good old Wilson and Kratzer’s Mortuary the day of the funeral. Somehow it was decided that Denise and Darin, two of the granddaughters, would escort their Grandma Helen down the aisle to pay her last respects to her brother-in-law, Vane.
Let me reiterate: talk, talk, talk. ALL WEEK LONG. Uncle Vane was dead, gone. No secrets. Talk, talk, talk. Helen heard ALL of this.
So, Denise and I steadied Grandma, each taking her by one of her elbows, and escorted her down the aisle to pay her last respects. And when we reached the coffin, Grandma Helen looked at her dead brother-in-law in his coffin and said: “Oh, my goodness, when did HE DIE?”
Now, “coffin approaches” are always awkward, but this was…one of those Awkward Moments. Umm. People were Watching. What was Grandma Going To Do? My goodness, she has just realized that her brother-in-law Is Dead. Was she Going to Make a Scene? My goodness, I probably would have. She was in shock. But, we are McGraws, We Don’t Make Scenes. So Denise or I mumbled “uh, last week, Grandma,” and just kept her moving; and God Bless Her, she kept moving.
But still, to this day, whenever I approach a coffin, I still always think of being with my older sister and my grandma, when Grandma said “Oh, my goodness, when did HE DIE?” It was a nervous moment that still can make me giggle, and helps me keep the world in perspective…“Oh, my goodness, when did HE DIE?” You gotta laugh, or you go nuts. Or you go nuts anyway. So you may as well just laugh.
Post a Comment