Vignette ( they keep coming to mind)

I remember going to my grandmother's house for breakfast. She was my mother's mother and the only grandparent I ever knew. She was a slender tiny little lady. Her maiden name was Tennyson and she could trace her ancestry back to the great poet. But she also had American Indian blood. Back along the way one of the Tennysons had married Princess Gahoga of the Deer Clan of the Cherokee Tribe. But I digress - back to the breakfast! She made huge flakey biscuits, thick white gravy to pour over the biscuit halves, lightly fried salt pork with thick tender delicious fat. It wasn't special for us - she believed in starting the day with something to "stick to the ribs." (cholesterol hadn't been discovered yet)