Recently, I read an anecdote about a mother coming upon her young child gazing at one of the pictures in her Peter Rabbit storybook. Though she hadn’t described the drawing in detail, I was able to rifle straight to the familiar page — it has to be the one where the non-naughty sisters (they are girls, right? I’ve always assumed so) are gathered around their simple feast of bread, milk, and blackberries, while Peter is in bed with a dose of chamomile tea.
The mother asked her daughter if she knew the dear rabbits’ names, and she shook her head. But upon learning that they were in fact Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cottontail, the little girl’s rapturous grin could not be contained. She gasped out something about how she had always loved them, she had just not known it was them.
I think the sharer’s point of the story was that it is such a delight to introduce children to literary characters that can be their lifelong friends. Sometimes they feel like meeting entirely new people, and sometimes it feels like you’ve just always known them somehow, without having met them yet.
I’ve been reading since I was 3, and while I didn’t start off with overwhelmingly interesting personalities (hello, Dick and Jane), I completely get that feeling of just meeting yet always having had known certain well-written characters. I just didn’t know that I knew them, or didn’t know their name, but now that I do, can’t imagine not having known them.
When this baby arrives, I know from experience that it will likely feel the same way. Benson’s birth was traumatic enough that our introduction was different, but I remember seeing Kiah for the first time and thinking, “Oh, it’s you!” I’d known her, felt her kicks and squirms and hiccups for months, I just hadn’t known it was her. For both of the kids, we prayed for and loved deeply this baby inside, and then when they came out, we realized oh! it was you all along! I look forward to that moment with Green Bean.
In a much smaller, and I mean infinitesimal, way, I had this sort of realization a short time ago in regards to tomato gravy.
Hear me out. I was discussing with a friend how her time hosting lots of family had gone, and she mentioned how her grandkids clamber for and celebrate a traditional meal featuring toast, scrambled eggs, and tomato gravy. I would have believed it if people said they saw a lightbulb flash on over my head in that instant, because that’s really how I felt — oh! tomato gravy, it’s been you all along!
I kind of want ketchup with my eggs, but not really, and I kind of want salsa, but not really … because it’s tomato gravy that I want. Something sweet, and savory, and tomatoey, but not too much of any of those things: hello, tomato gravy.
In case you haven’t met this old friend yet, tomato gravy is exactly what it sounds like. Tomato, made into a gravy. My grandma had a special hankering for tomato gravy and fried cornmeal mush, and I think that’s the only way I’ve ever been served it. I don’t feel sheltered in my food experiences at all, but somehow I was never introduced to tomato gravy and scrambled eggs, though it’s apparently not a niche thing.
I could write my own cottontail storybook page now, the one where I’m gathering my family around our simple feast of scrambled eggs and tomato gravy. Maybe someone else will gasp too: oh, I hadn’t known it was this, but I’ve always loved it!
Oh My Tomato Gravy
I’m tempted to jazz up the idea of tomato gravy, but too much pizazz and it isn’t itself anymore — Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cottontail didn’t have to dress up their blackberries and milk, so I don’t either. And what do you know, in the Mennonite cookbook I found tomato gravy listed serving it with scrambled eggs (although it was attached to a French toast recipe, so its credibility went way down). The internet shows some recipes using chunked tomatoes, but as a matter of principle I think I have to stay with tomato juice since that’s the only way I’ve ever heard of it.
Prep tips: my home tomato juice gets plenty of pepper and seasonings when it’s canned, so do what you need to to adjust what you have.
• 1 cup thick, good-quality tomato juice
• ⅛ teaspoon baking soda
• ½ - 1 tablespoon sugar
• salt, black pepper, and red pepper to taste
• 1 cup milk or cream
• 2 tablespoons cornstarch
• optional: just a pinch of herbs, like rosemary, thyme, or basil
In a saucepan, bring tomato juice, baking soda, sugar, and spices to a simmer. Stir the cornstarch into the milk, then whisk into the hot tomato juice until thickened. Adjust seasonings to taste and serve — over scrambled eggs of course, but also with biscuits, buttered toast, fried mush, or cheese grits.
Lettuce Eat Local is a weekly local foods column by Amanda Miller, who lives in rural Reno County on the family dairy farm with her husband and two small children. She seeks to help build connections through food with her community, the earth, and the God who created it all. Send feedback and recipe ideas to hyperpeanutbutter@gmail.com.
