Comfort food! The dictionary defines it as “food that provides consolation or a feeling of well-being, typically with a high sugar or carbohydrate content and associated with childhood or home cooking.

Pizza is comfort food.

When we lived in Listowel our church still had a Sunday evening service. Our boys were still quite young and most evenings our youngest dozed off during the service. He snored softly as he cuddled on my lap while his dad preached. After church it was out habit to stop by McDonalds for a large pizza (yes, McDonalds sold pizza back in the late 80’s and early 90’s) and 4 drinks. While waiting for the pizza, the four men in my life, would each have their drink and make that crazy, annoying sound by moving the straw up and down in the top of the cup. The Sunday night pizza tradition continued right into high school and university as students and friends gathered at our home each Sunday night after church. We were thankful for $5.00 New Orleans pizzas as some weeks we’d pick up 10 or 15 pizzas to feed the hungry teens. I often wonder if the boys think about those Sunday night pizza nights. I do.

Another memory that comes to mind regarding comfort food is homemade donuts. My mouth waters when I remember the Saturday mornings when my Mom baked and along with the cookies, bread, muffins etc. that came out of the oven, it was always special when Mom made donuts as well. It was a process. Make the dough. Roll it out. Cut the donuts out. Put them in the hot oil. Flip them. Roll them in cinnamon and sugar. Oh my. I can taste them even as I type.

However, there is one comfort food that trumps all else.

POTATOES UNDER THE MEAT

No question.

Before I go there I have to tell you that my Mom was the best cook in the world and taught me everything I know about cooking. As I’ve already mentioned my Mom baked every kind of bread or buns that you can imagine. She baked loaves and loaves of sweet breads - lemon loaf was a favourite in our home. Mom always said she wished she had a nickel for every cookie she ever baked and then she’d be a rich woman. In the days when we were all at home, Mom did a lot of canning - jars and jars of peaches, pears, applesauce and cherries were readily available for dessert. Mom peeled and cored and boiled and roasted. I learned how to prepare a meal and have everything ready and pretty much the same time.

Dad worked shifts at the paper mill so our “big” meal revolved around his day shift or afternoon shift. Mom cooked for at least 11 people every meal. She was creative and wise and could stretch a pound or two of hamburger a long way. Mom also made all the lunches. She liked to keep tabs on how much food was going out and what needed to be replaced.

My comfort food - my go-to food when the weather turns cool in the fall and the sun sets at 4:30 in the afternoon is something our family called “Potatoes Under the Meat” and the chef wasn’t my mom. It was my dad.

Once a month was Women’s Mission Circle at our church - it was usually on a Tuesday afternoon and my mom chaired that group for as long as I can remember, probably twenty five or thirty years or more. The mission circle group at the First Baptist Church met to make “bandages” to send to the leper colony in India. They met to read letters and write letters to the missionaries serving there. They met to bring their knitted baby sets for the “poor” children across the sea. They took up a collection and would regularly money to help those in need.

On that Tuesday afternoon - once a month - it was Dad’s responsibility to make supper and it was usually “potatoes under the meat.” He perfected this dish over the years but it was really quite simple. Dad browned the hamburg - added a can or two of mushroom soup and a cup of milk or so and stirred it together. He added some salt and pepper and voila - the meat part was complete. So creamy. So rich in flavour. Then Dad peeled several pounds of potatoes and boiled them and mashed them. He added butter, salt and pepper and some milk until the potatoes were smooth and without lumps. A vegetable or two usually accompanied his creation.

BETTER IS A DRY MORSEL WITH QUIET THAN A HOUSE FULL OF FEASTING WITH STRIFE.

To serve this dish - Dad would scoop a goodly portion of potatoes on the plate and then ladle the meat over the potatoes. And there you have it - Potatoes Under The Meat!

I can still see my family - all of us gathered around our big, dining room table - Marilyn, Bob, Susan, Brenda, Harry, Ted, Phil, Tim and me and Dad and Mom - chatting and laughing and discussing the days events - oohing and awing over our delicious supper and thanking Dad for making it.

“Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from Him. Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are children born in one’s youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them.” These words are from Psalm 127 and I am reminded by the Psalmist that a father with many children can consider those children a reward from God. My father definitely had his quiver full and was blessed!!!!

The night dad cooked was Mom’s night off. She appreciated Dad stepping up for her on those nights.

To this day - it’s a meal that I make a few times each winter. When I take that first bite - the creamy, smooth potatoes covered in the hot, steamy meat sauce - I take great joy in the flavour but also in the memory of eating it first as a child in our family home.

I also think of my Dad - missing him - thanking God for giving me the perfect father for our home.