I don’t know about you but when I first get up in the morning, the last thing I want is to get riled up over the news or – lately – the weather. What I want is to ease myself gently into the day. In nice weather, I do that out on the deck. In winter, I do it in front of the TV.
So at 6am, my best TV option for that gentle transition is Father Knows Best. A few days ago, Cornel Wilde was the guest star and he came to the Anderson house to consult Father on urgent matters of car insurance. One thing led to another and Margaret invited him to share their dinner of pork chops. Cornel Wilde accepted and expressed hope that the pork chops would be baked with sour cream and onions the way his mother used to make. Margaret said that coincidentally, that is exactly what she was serving that night while Father stood by and looked like he’d rather get his hair cut by Fronk the gardener’s lawn mower than have anything to do with pork chops baked with sour cream and onions.
Margaret appears with a silver tray full of caviar canapes and then Cornel Wilde volunteers to babysit for Kathy so Father and Margaret can keep their date to play cards with another couple. Father refers to the caviar canapes as “this junk” as soon as Margaret is out of earshot and enlists Cornel Wilde in a chummy laugh about it because this is after all the patriarchy that we’re talking about.
Bud spilled the beans when he thoughtlessly stated that his mother was making him run to the store for sour cream and onions. Everybody had a good natured laugh when the truth came out but Margaret said she really thought she might like to try making them that way. Apparent, her plan was to use this recipe:
- Step 1 - glob some sour cream and onions on top of pork chops
- Step 2 – bake.
… which if it’s good enough for Margaret Anderson, it’s good enough for me. And so that’s what I did today but instead of using an oven I used a crock pot. And so the nice little thin pork chops coated in flour, fried in a pan and then squirted by a thick wedge of lemon immediately before serving that had been filling my dreams got hijacked by Cornel Wilde. Or more likely by some Hollywood script writer who made it up out of whole cloth, if this is anything to go by:
So the pork chops crocked with sour cream and onions were good but they were not the pan fried pork chops of my dreams. Frankly, I don’t know what Cornel Wilde sees in them.
Another dinner time observation from Father Knows Best: Do you realize that Father sits at the head of the table with all of the dinner plates stacked in front of him and surrounded by serving bowls? I saw him dish out a meat lump, a baked potato still in its jacket and exactly 2 spoons of peas onto a dinner plate and then pass it down the side of the table until all were served. He is a practiced Father so he was able to do this while keeping up some light dinner table patter and simultaneously wondering what was bothering Bud. The thing I found so interesting was that Father used the same two serving utensils to take from first the meat lump dish and then the potato dish, then he would delicately lay them facing each other into the potato dish and pick up the dish of peas which had its own serving spoon sticking out of it. I was fascinated.
Really, when you sit alone in a dark room staring a the TV as you slowly sharpen up for the day, these things can make quite an impression on you.