Relating to Food
Because of Mother’s Day and the recent death of my grandmother, I’ve been thinking a lot about the women in my family. Somehow, each of them is linked in my mind to a kind of food, and the thoughts have been pouring in since I cooked dinner on Friday evening.
I grew up with three grandmothers. One was famous for her Jell-O concoctions, all nuts and fruits and marshmallows. Another cooked gumbo and crawfish, served French bread at every meal and drank martinis; the taste of gin always reminds me of her. The third always tried “gourmet” recipes that were somehow off, but made the best cheesecake I’ve ever tasted, a flavor I still search for, but can never find.
My sisters are linked to food too. My middle sister is all health - green spinach and fresh picked blueberries. She’s tricks for opening garlic and a million ways to cook tofu. My brother’s wife is meatballs, rice pudding and Spanish pastries flavored with anise. My husband’s sister is hot tea, fresh pressed coffee and spaghetti sauce with cayenne pepper. My youngest sister is love, and acceptance, barbecue, devilled eggs and chicken salad.
My mother-in-law is conversation and shared pleasures, Thanksgivings at nice restaurants, adventures in sights, smells and flavors.
I can’t cook without thinking of my mother, though. She is the very base of my existence, and everything I create is building off things she taught me. Just as she gave me life, she gave me food.
Happy Mother’s Day.