Cooking in the West

by Susan Metcalf

With Memorial Day coming up on Monday, I feel it is important to remember that Memorial Day is about much more than barbecues and a day off. It is a time to remember and honor loved ones and fallen heroes, and it is also important to thank all veterans for their service. I love this Facebook essay so much that I have to share an excerpt from "Memorial Day: A Time for Heroes" by Nancy Sullivan Geng:

I picked up the photo and turned it over. Yellowing tape held a prayer card that read: "Lloyd 'Bud' Heitzman, 1925-1944. A Great Hero." Nineteen years old when he died--not much older than I was. But a great hero? How could you be a hero at 19? The floorboards creaked behind me. I turned to see Mema coming in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

I almost hid the photo because I didn't want to listen to the same stories I'd heard year after year: "Remember how hard Bud worked after we lost the farm? During the haying season he worked all day, sunrise to sunset, bailing for other farmers. Then he brought me all his wages. He'd say, 'Mama, someday I'm going to buy you a brand-new farm. I promise.' There wasn't a better boy in the world!"

Sometimes I wondered about that boy dying alone in a muddy ditch in a foreign country he'd only read about. I thought of the scared kid who jumped out of a foxhole in front of an advancing enemy, only to be downed by a sniper. I couldn't reconcile the image of the boy and his dog with that of the stalwart soldier. "Mema," I asked, "what's a hero?" Without a word she turned and walked down the hall to the back bedroom. I followed.

She opened a bureau drawer and took out a small metal box, then sank down onto the bed. "These are Bud's things," she said. "They sent them to us after he died." She opened the lid and handed me a telegram dated October 13, 1944. "The Secretary of State regrets to inform you that your son, Lloyd Heitzman, was killed in Italy." Your son! I imagined Mema reading that sentence for the first time. I didn't know what I would have done if I'd gotten a telegram like that.

"Here's Bud's wallet," she continued. Even after all those years, it was caked with dried mud. Inside was Bud's driver's license with the date of his sixteenth birthday. I compared it with the driver's license I had just received. A photo of Bud holding a little spotted dog fell out of the wallet. Jiggs. Bud looked so pleased with his mutt. There were other photos in the wallet: a laughing Bud standing arm in arm with two buddies, photos of my mom and aunt and uncle, another of Mema waving. This was the home Uncle Bud took with him in his wallet.

I could see him in a foxhole, taking out these snapshots to remind himself of how much he was loved and missed. "Who's this?" I asked, pointing to a shot of a pretty dark-haired girl.

"Marie. Bud dated her in high school. He wanted to marry her when he came home." A girlfriend? Marriage? How heartbreaking to have a life, plans and hopes for the future, so brutally snuffed out. Sitting on the bed, Mema and I sifted through the treasures in the box: a gold watch that had never been wound again. A sympathy letter from President Roosevelt, and one from Bud's commander. A medal shaped like a heart, trimmed with a purple ribbon. And at the very bottom, the deed to Mema's house.

"Why's this here?" I asked.

"Because Bud bought this house for me." She explained how after his death, the U.S. government gave her 10 thousand dollars, and with it she built the house she was still living in. "He kept his promise all right," Mema said in a quiet voice I'd never heard before. For a long while the two of us sat there on the bed. Then we put the wallet, the medal, the letters, the watch, the photos and the deed back into the metal box. I finally understood why it was so important for Mema—and me—to remember Uncle Bud on this day.

If he'd lived longer he might have built that house for Mema or married his high-school girlfriend. There might have been children and grandchildren to remember him by. As it was, there was only that box, the name in the program and the reminiscing around the kitchen table. "I guess he was a hero because he gave everything for what he believed," I said carefully.

"Yes, child," Mema replied, wiping a tear with the back of her hand. "Don't ever forget that."

I haven't. Even today with Mema gone, my husband and I take our lawn chairs to the tree-shaded boulevard on Memorial Day and give our three daughters small American flags that I buy for a quarter at Ben Franklin. I want them to remember that life isn't just about getting what you want. Sometimes it involves giving up the things you love for what you love even more. That many men and women did the same for their country—that's what I think when I see the parade pass by now. If I close my eyes and imagine, I can still see Mema in her regal purple hat, honoring her son, a true American hero.

Memorial Day marks the kick-off of barbecue season, so here are a few of my favorite cook-out ideas.

Cedar Plank Salmon:

2 lbs. fresh salmon fillets

1 C. sour cream

1/2 C. melted butter

4 cloves pressed garlic

Alpine Touch or other seasoned salt to taste

dill to taste (optional)

Don't buy expensive cedar planks in the barbecue aisle. Go to your local hardware store and ask if they will give you some scrap cedar to make planks that will fit the size of your barbecue. Soak the planks in water for several hours. You may have to weigh them down with cans from the pantry. Skin the salmon with a sharp knife and place on the soaked board. Mix the sour cream,melted butter, pressed garlic, seasoned salt, and dill together and spread on top of the salmon. Cook over medium hot grill until salmon flakes (approximately 20 minutes). Do not turn it, but you may tent it loosely with foil. The board will char, which gives the smoked flavor.

Note: For a sweet teriyaki salmon glaze, mix brown sugar with soy sauce until it is "spreadable". Throw in minced garlic and seasonings to taste. Marinate the salmon in this mixture in the refrigerator for several hours, and then baste it over the salmon fillets on the plank as it cooks.

Dutch Oven Parmesan Potatoes:

3 lbs. red potatoes, scrubbed and chopped bite sized

1/2 C. melted butter

several cloves of pressed garlic to taste

2/3 C. Parmesan cheese, divided

seasoned salt to taste, parsley flakes (optional)

Melt butter in a 12 inch Dutch oven or 9 X 13 baking pan. Coat chopped potatoes with butter. Mix 1/3 C. cheese, garlic, and seasoning and stir into potatoes. Cook in the oven for one hour at 350 degrees. Just before serving, top with shredded Parmesan or other cheese of your choice. To cook outside with briquettes and a 12 inch Dutch oven, arrange 8 coals on the bottom and 17 on the top. Cook for 45 minutes to an hour, rotating the lid and oven every 15 minutes.

Peanutty Treats:

6 C. Rice Krispies

1/4 C. margarine

16 oz. marshmallows

1 C. peanut butter

1 C. milk chocolate chips

1 C. butterscotch chips

1 C. M & M's

Spray a 9 X 13 pan with Pam. Pour Rice Krispies in a pan. Melt margarine and marshmallows

together in the microwave. Stir in peanut butter and pour mixture over Rice Krispies. Pat into

pan like Rice Krispie treats. Melt chocolate chips and butterscotch chips together in the

microwave. Pour over bars. Let set a few minutes until frosting sets a bit and then sprinkle with

M & M's. Press M & M's lightly into frosting so they don't fall off when cut into bars.