January 12, 2026
God loves grandmas. Can I get an amen on the that?
My grandma B, God rest her soul, she was something special. (Aren’t all grandmas though?) Grandma Claire was a grandma’s grandma, the old-fashioned kind of grandma that made everything in the kitchen from scratch. No box recipes, no store-bought mixes, everything was 100% from scratch.
Her pies — oh my goodness, THE best; she made her crusts with lard, and her custards homemade with eggs, cream, and sugar. Her cinnamon rolls; oh, my gracious don’t get me started on her cinnamon rolls. We all fought for the center roll, and being the youngest, I never won. Grandma B’s baking was so delightful, it would’ve made famous cake maker Duff Goldman blush.
Well, besides being a top-notch baker, grandma could cook like she was a world-class chef. Julia Childs would’ve loved my grandma; honestly, I think they would’ve gotten along swimmingly. Like her baking recipes, everything grandma made went with her to the grave. Her goulash, NO ONE has ever been able to replicate. We’ve all tried and failed. Her fresh caught, fried walleye was quite tasty—and I HATE fish. But of all thing dishes grandma made, nothing compared to her wurst (pronounce voost).
Like her goulash, I’ve tried to replicate Grandma Claire’s wurst, but it was disastrous. Her recipe, as far as we know, was simple. Only my uncle Kevin learned how to make it, and before passing on, he passed it down to us. But even then, Kevin’s recipe is about a vague as Klingon. Here’s all it said:
Take bone-in roast and simmer on the stove top until the meat falls apart. Remove the meat when done and let cool. Don’t toss the liquid broth, instead add to it rough-cut rolled oats and make oatmeal. When the meat has cooled, shred and grind. Add the roast back to the oatmeal, add all-spice, and that’s it.
From there, grandma would take the meat mush, put it in cool whip containers, then freeze. And when it was time to make, she’d thaw out a container, heat up a skillet, add lard, and fry her wurst from edge to edge, flipping halfway through — making the outside crusty and in the inside creamy. Heaven on a plate.
Last time I tried to make grandma’s wurst, I epically failed. But tonight, I might have found the secret I’ve long needed.
Not trying to make wurst tonight, I pressure-cooked some beef soups bones (with lots of meat on them). I seared them, added to an instant pot, covered with water, and pressure-cooked for two hours. And when it was done – OH MY! The meat fell apart where the texture was identical to the cooked, shredded, and ground roast in grandma’s wurst. And the broth that was produced, if I added rolled oats and allspice, it just might come really close.
When I felt the texture of those pressure-cooked beef soup bones, my mind tripped back in time to when I was a kid, pulling up a chair at grandma’s breakfast table to feast on her cinnamon rolls and tantalizing wurst. Today, I thank God for our Instant Pot Lux and those soup bones, because that combo brought me that much closer to my memories of Grandma Claire and the love she shared in her cooking.
I miss my Grandma B. My last memory of her was just two days before she passed. She hadn’t spoken a word in months, but after telling her about my son Colby who never took a first breath, I said, “Grandma, you’ve gotto go to heaven and raise my boy Colby the way you loved my dad and me.” Then, out of nowhere, Grandma uttered “Colby.” She never said another word but passed on two days later in peace.
Perhaps my grandma is in heaven right now, making a plate of wurst for Colby, served up with the center cinnamon roll dripping with her Lucious icing. I can’t wait to taste all her cooking again, while sitting next to her and Colby’s side.
Thank you, God, for grandmas like my Grandma B. They love on us in ways that display your love in full. Bless all the grandmas out there tonight, and all those in their tender care. May all those they love have memories as strong as mine, so they too can bless the world with stories such as mine.