The Gravy Bowl Girl ~ My 15 Minutes
The Gravy Bowl Girl is one of the most exciting experiences of my life. The recipe for Granny’s gravy is at the end of the story. Click here for more recipes –traditional family recipes and dishes created by me. Some of those recipes include links to the stories behind them.
I hope you enjoy The Gravy Bowl Girl.
*In some cases, names have been changed.
The Gravy Bowl Girl, by Deanna Schrayer
It was one of those frantic evenings: I was in a hurry to get supper made in time for us to eat before leaving for the fair. I decided the quickest thing would be biscuits and gravy. Let’s see: make biscuits from scratch, (the only way), fry bacon, wait for milk to boil…yea, that sounds quick.
Just as the biscuits were browning, the gravy began to bubble – perfect timing! Then I realized I didn’t have the bowl out to pour the gravy into. For those of you who’ve never made gravy, this is the most important step – you have to stir gravy continuously once it begins to boil, until it comes to the desired consistency, (something you have to test over and over again to get just right), then pour it into the bowl immediately.
I had no choice, I had to put down the fork to walk all the way across the kitchen and get the gravy bowl. Oh sure, there were bowls in the cabinet right above the stove, but none of them was The Gravy Bowl, which had been passed down to me from my grandmother.
No way was I going to shame my ancestors by using just any old bowl.
I sprinted across the kitchen as fast as my chicken legs would take me, grabbed the bowl, turned around to run back to the stove, and smacked right into my tiny 2-year-old son. Noah and the bowl hit the floor at the same time.
I stooped to pick up what was left of my precious little bowl, never mind my poor son. My husband, Jim made sure Noah was okay, then grabbed the broom and began sweeping up the shards as I cradled the bigger pieces of the bowl to my heart.
The boys went to the fair without me, I cried my eyes out all night, and the gravy went down the sink. My heart shattered along with the ceramic that day.
I couldn’t bear to part with the remains of the gravy bowl. I put them in a basket, and they sat on my kitchen counter for months while I tried to decide what to do with them.
Nearly a year later I was cooking supper while the TV droned on in the background. I heard Oprah say, “Do you have a problem area in your home? Are you missing that one piece of china that would complete the set, yet it’s no longer for sale? Well we have just the show for you! Coming up next month we’ll help you organize your closet, and help you find that missing plate. Send us your problems at oprah.com. Your question may appear on the show!”
Hmmm, I thought, I wonder if Oprah would have an idea of what I could do with the pieces of my gravy bowl.
I logged on to Oprah’s website and found the link to email my story. I told of how the gravy bowl had been in my family for generations, and how I was the one to finally destroy it. I asked Oprah if she knew anyone who might have an idea as to how I could preserve the remains of my precious bowl. Life went on. After a week of not receiving a reply to my email, I figured it must’ve gotten lost in the slush pile, and resolved that I would never hear from Oprah.
A few days after I’d given up hope, I was typing a report at work when the phone rang.
“Hello, this is Deanna.” I answered.
“Hello there!” a deep, friendly voice boomed, “Is this Deanna Schrayer?”
“Yes it is. May I help you?” The only personal phone call I received at work was from my husband, Jim asking what was for supper. I couldn’t imagine who this was, or what he wanted.
“This is Terry Goulder* with the Oprah show,” the voice said, “Do you have a moment?”
I held the receiver in front of my face and eyed it suspiciously. Was this a joke?
“Did you say you’re from the Oprah show?”
“Yes!” he said, “Oprah read your story and is quite interested in your gravy bowl dilemma. She’d like to help you, but we’re going to need a few things from you first.”
I was stunned. This had to be Jim pulling a prank. Oprah Winfrey interested in my story?
“Are you sure you aren’t a friend of my husband?” I asked.
“I can assure you I don’t know your husband, Mrs. Schrayer,” Terry laughed, “I know it may seem strange to receive a call from Oprah Winfrey, but I’m quite serious. Oprah would like you to send us some pictures of your gravy bowl, or the remaining pieces I should say, preferably with you holding them, and a picture of your grandmother too. She wants to find a way to help you preserve your bowl.”
Again, I was speechless.
“Mrs. Schrayer?”
“Yes, yes I’m here. I can do that, I can send pictures of the bowl, but I only have one picture of my grandmother. Can I send you a copy of that?”
“Well, Oprah would like the original photo if that’s all right. Let me give you the address.”
“Wait a minute,” I protested, “I just don’t know if I can part with the only picture I have of my grandmother. What if it gets lost in the mail?” Yes, I was telling Oprah Winfrey I wouldn’t do as she asked.
“We really do need the original.” Terry pleaded. “I guarantee you’ll get it back, along with the pictures of the bowl. Can you have it shipped by tomorrow?”
I thought. Who was I to tell Oprah Winfrey no? Especially since it appeared she was genuinely trying to help me.
“Okay, what’s the address?”
Terry called back as soon as he received the package, mostly to assure me he did have it, and told me he’d be in touch soon.
I worried of course that I would never get that picture back, and was close to regretting the decision when he called again.
“Hi Deanna,” Terry said in that same pleasing manner, “I need you to send us another shipment if you don’t mind.”
“Sure, but what else could you need?”
“The pieces of the bowl.”
“What?” I shouted, “What are ya’ll going to do with them?”
“Well, I can’t tell you that just yet, but can you get them sent out today?”
“You want me to send you all I have left of my grandmother, and you’re not even going to tell me what you’re doing with it?” I was bewildered.
“Trust me.” Those famous words.
With my curiosity growing, I mailed the pieces of the bowl to Oprah. I knew I could trust her, but still it was so hard to let go.
A couple of days later Terry called again, “Deanna, we’d like you to come to Chicago and be a guest on the Oprah show.”
Again, I held the receiver in front of my face. Was this really happening to me?
“What?” I know he must’ve thought I was stone deaf, having said that word so many times now.
“The show will be taped August 20th. We’ll fly you out here on the 19th, you’ll stay at the Omni that night, then we’ll pick you up in the morning and bring you to the studio. You’ll be able to fly back home that same afternoon. So, will you be available on those days?”
“What have you done with my gravy bowl?” I demanded, as if it was being held hostage.
“I still can’t tell you that. I just need to get your word that you’ll be on the show.”
After a moment of silence I finally committed, “Okay, I’ll do it.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Air transportation is one of my greatest fears. It’s not that I’m afraid of crashing; I just don’t like to be stuck in a place I know there’s no way out of. It didn’t help that it was storming the day I was to fly to Chicago, alone. Jim dropped me off at the airport, reassuring me that I would be okay.
And I did do okay, until I saw lightning out the window of the plane and heard the pilot over the intercom, “It’s going to be a bit bumpy for the next thirty minutes or so folks as we go through some turbulence. Please buckle your seat belts.”
I hadn’t even taken mine off, but I tightened it now. I panicked and went into full-on anxiety mode. I began to hyperventilate. Looking around for Lord knows what, I saw that the man in front of me was relaxing with a nudie magazine, the airline publication covering the outside. This struck me as funny, and I broke out in hysterical laughter. The flight attendant stopped at my seat and gently laid her hand on my forearm, which brought my attention to the fact that I had the armrest in a death grip. I looked at my hands in bewilderment, and buried them in my lap hoping no one was watching me fall apart.
“Do you need anything?” she asked.
“I could use a blanket.” I don’t know why I suddenly felt the need for a blanket, but it did help a bit. I wrapped myself up and tried to take deep breaths. In, out, in, out.
As I began to get my bearings, I saw a telephone on the back of the seat in front of me. Having flown only once in my life before, this was a brand new concept to me; I didn’t know you could make a phone call from an airplane! Reading the instructions helped to calm me a bit more, but I still felt like a Mexican jumping bean had taken root under my skin. So I pulled out my “emergency only” credit card and called home.
Jim answered, “Hello?”
“Hi honey.” “Where are you?”
“I’m on the plane, somewhere near Chicago I think, or at least I hope so. There’s a terrible storm going on and I really want off this plane.”
“You’re calling me from the plane?!”
“Yes, I’m calling you from the plane.”
“Do you know how much this is costing us?!”
My dear husband, the one I can rely on to bring be back to down to earth, just what I needed at the moment, in more ways than one.
Fortunately, the rest of the trip was smooth. I arrived in Chicago to a nice young lady all spiffed up in a blue uniform, holding a sign with my name on it, (in gold). She ushered me to the limo, and I said a little prayer of thanks that I didn’t have to find my own way through Chicago O’Hare.
The limo driver was friendly and wanted to know what show I was to be on.
“The Oprah Show,” I told him.
He chuckled, “I know that. I work for Oprah. I meant what’s the show about?”
“Oh! I’m gonna be on the show about the problem areas of your home, or how to get that piece of china you’ve been missing for years.”
“What’s your problem area?” He wanted to know.
“Well, my problem is a bit different. I had a gravy bowl that I broke and Oprah…”
“Oh,” he interrupted, nodding his head up and down, “You’re the Gravy Bowl Girl!”
“What? The Gravy Bowl Girl?”
I was so confused I didn’t even realize the car had stopped moving. Suddenly I was being escorted out of the limo and into the hotel. Before I knew it I was in my room with instructions to be in the lobby and ready to head to the studio at 8:00 the next morning.
Even though it was late, I took full advantage of my luxurious surroundings, ordered supper, and took a long, hot bubble bath. I was worn out from the trip, but I couldn’t stop wondering what Oprah had done with my gravy bowl, and why did the limo driver know about it? The suspense was killing me. Alas, there was nothing to do but get some rest so I could resume this dream.
The next morning I joined the rest of the show’s guests in the lobby. We got acquainted as we were led to the limo. I learned how one woman had always shoved everything in her house into one closet and couldn’t seem to figure out how to get organized, how an elderly lady had been searching for years for that one plate to match the set her grandmother had left her, (there really was someone with missing china!), and met the woman who founded ehow.com.
Then all eyes were on me. What was my story? Once again I told how I’d broken the precious gravy bowl and Kaitlyn*, (the ehow lady), shook her head up and down, “Oh, you’re the Gravy Bowl Girl.” she smiled.
“You know about my gravy bowl?”
“Yes, yes, I know all about it.”
“Do you know what Oprah’s done with the pieces of my bowl?” I didn’t think I said it threateningly.
“I know, but it’s a secret.” She winked. “It’s going to be a surprise.”
“How come everyone but me knows where my gravy bowl is?”
This question was ignored as we arrived at the studio and went through the rigmarole of security checks.
We went to the green room, and signed our lives away. The hairdresser wasn’t very chatty, but she did ask what my story was. I told it once again and got the same response: “Oh, you’re the Gravy Bowl Girl.” By this time I knew it was fruitless to ask how she knew about my story, so I just shook my head, “Yes, I’m the Gravy Bowl Girl.”
I was escorted to a sound booth and asked to read my letter to Oprah, which was being taped for my segment. Apparently the nervousness in my voice shone through – I had to read the letter three times before they were satisfied.
The other guests and I were taken to our seats at the front of the audience, positioned in the order our stories would be told. We were instructed to applause when Oprah walked on stage, (are you kidding me?), and to respond appropriately when she came to each of our stories.
Oprah brought Kaitlyn on stage first and interviewed her. I barely remember the conversation, so curious I was to know what Oprah had done with my bowl.
She went on to the next guest who had a quilt she’d started years ago, but never had the time to finish. Oprah found a company that actually specialized in finishing unfinished quilts, and gathered photos from the woman’s family to send to this company. They were able to use those pictures to finish the quilt. It was beautiful.
The next guest was the closet problem lady. Oprah hired a company who specialized in home organization. They went into this woman’s home and organized her closets for her! I felt myself wishing that’s what I’d asked for.
Then there was a commercial break. I was surprised to learn these were planned so the crew could set up everything for the next segment. As a hoard of people rushed to spritz Oprah’s face, and pouf her hair she told the audience a story of how she was rushed back to earth the day she glided on stage at an awards show, thinking she was “It”, and then she tripped. We were all laughing as the tape rolled once again. It was then I noticed the crew had brought out a table with something sitting on it, covered in a white sheet.
The cameras focused on me. Oprah introduced my story. I sat awestruck as my family photos were faded on the screen behind Oprah, my voice filling the room with the story of my gravy bowl.
“Since Deanna was missing pieces of her gravy bowl”, Oprah said, “we were not able to put it back together for her, but this is what they came up with. Are you ready? Drum roll….da da da da…” and she lifted the sheet, unveiling the pieces of my precious gravy bowl, now transformed into a lovely frame, displaying the only photo of my grandmother I possessed.
The camera captured the amazement in my face, complete with mouth hanging open, and tears running down my cheeks. I was speechless.
Finally I croaked, “Oh, it’s beautiful. Thank you so much Oprah!”
Oprah picked up the frame, “Would you like to have it?” she asked me.
“Oh yes!” I stood up and walked towards her.
“Don’t drop it!” She commanded.
“Oh I won’t!”
I completely missed the rest of the guests’ stories as I sat staring at the gravy bowl in its new form. Never had I felt so grateful.
I held Granny’s picture to my heart all the way home, and it’s now prominently displayed in my living room.
My late grandmother, Lura Gentry
No one will ever be able to make biscuits and gravy quite as good as Granny Gentry did, but here’s how to get as close as possible. Keep in mind that measurements are approximate; you’ll need to adjust according to how much you want to make.
Granny’s Biscuits and Gravy
Biscuits:
- 2 cups Bisquick
- 5 Tbs. shortening or very cold butter
- 1 cup buttermilk
- Flour to sprinkle on work surface
In large mixing bowl, cut shortening or butter in with Bisquick, using two butter knives. Using a fork, stir in buttermilk, (you may have to adjust the amount according to the weather), folding dough gently to form large ball.
Place dough on floured surface, (wooden cutting board is best), roll out with floured rolling pin, cut biscuits w/ biscuit cutter, (the best biscuit cutter is a mason jar lid). Place biscuits on a lightly greased jelly roll pan.
Bake in preheated 375° oven for 20 – 25 minutes, or until lightly browned.
Gravy:
- Gravy bowl filled with whole milk
- 1 lb. bacon
- 2 – 4 Tbs. flour
- Salt
- Fresh ground pepper
- Grape jelly (optional)
- Sliced homegrown tomato (optional)
First, make sure you have your gravy bowl, filled with whole milk, set beside the stove. The bowl must be glass or ceramic – no plastic.
Fry bacon over med-high heat until crispy – the key to making crispy bacon is to constantly turn it. Set bacon aside on paper plate, leaving as much grease as possible in the pan.
Turn heat down to med-low, let set a couple of minutes to cool down.
Toss some flour into the grease, (how much flour – 2 – 4 Tbs. – depends on how much grease you have, and it doesn’t matter what kind of flour you use, but cake flour is the best); turn heat up to medium, stirring the flour mixture with a fork continuously, until it makes a thick paste. Pour your milk into the flour mixture slowly. Turn the heat up to med-high, stirring continuously, stopping only long enough to add salt and pepper.
When the gravy starts to bubble, turn the heat back down to medium and continue to stir until it’s done. It’s done when the gravy is thick, but not pasty.
Pour gravy back into bowl you had milk in. Serve over biscuits w/ slice of very ripe tomato, grape jelly, and bacon.
~~~~~~~~~~~
One Response to The Gravy Bowl Girl ~ My 15 Minutes