It all started with a blueberry loaf.
My delightful cousin Sara came over to pick up something I was sharing with her, and in exchange, she left a homemade blueberry loaf. I had asked Leah if she wanted a piece, and she declared, “We have some really GOOD cooks in our family.”
You know what? She’s right.
But what she didn’t know is that cake was likely (though I’m not sure) a recipe that was handed down from a generation (or two) ago. I started thinking about all the different sides of the family and what memorable recipes came from each. A grandmother’s gumbo, another’s brisket, a sweet someone’s chateaubriand, the list goes on and on.
It occurred to me that Leah hasn’t really been a part of the food history, at least the “making” part – and that wrenched my heart a bit. I’m not sure how that happened, but today it was time for that to change with something as simple as my almost internet famous pie.
And so, in a tiny apartment kitchen, she and I set to work. And by “set to work,” I mean she did everything but one step. We talked and chatted and laughed about silly things. I taught her the trick of the wrist when you whisk. I made her stick her fingers in the eggs when she dropped a piece of shell in there. I told her that, one day, she will be invited to a dinner party when the weather turns crisp, and someone will say, “We need a dessert!” and she will pipe up, “OHHH! I’ve got just the one!” – and it will be this pie and she will remember making it with me year after year.
I told her I would teach her all I know about the kitchen, so that one day, she can help make some good memories with friends and family, too. She asked why I didn’t buy a pie, since my back was hurting. I told her that store pies are made by machines – homemade pies are made in homes, with love and history and laughs, and she smiled and went back to wrestling with a cup filled with light corn syrup. I told her food tastes better when you dance in the kitchen – she smiled, but rolled her eyes a little.
That’ll be the next lesson, once I’m back in fighting shape.
I’m thankful for a lot of things, and delicious moments, pun completely intended, are one of those things.
Wishing you a warm, wonderful, peaceful Thanksgiving — I’m thankful for you, always.