Hello again! I just got back from a whirlwind visit with family. I met my sister and my mom at my Aunt’s house in the Detroit area. I’ll be honest – I wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about the visit ahead of time – I hadn’t been feeling great, I was tired, I’m up against some deadlines, all the normal life-gets-in-the-way stuff. But, aside from the warm welcome and hugs all around, I was immediately glad I went.
When I walked in the door of my aunt’s house (she just bought it and redid the whole place, it looks amazing), and immediately smelled cake. I’d barely taken off my coat and sat down when she told me it was Grandma Sally’s chocolate cake…which I’ve been dreaming about since I blogged the recipe. This started an animated 4-way conversation. It was sparked by my aunt apologizing for the cake – she said it didn’t look like grandma’s or my mom’s, and that she’d used a cake mix and only made the frosting from scratch. This prompted my sister to ask (urgently, we’re a family that takes dessert seriously) if my cake comes out looking like my mom’s. I admitted that it doesn’t – all the frosting tends to run down around the edges of the cake, rather than sitting on top. My sister said hers does the same thing, and it’s because my mom “overcooks” her frosting and lets the cake sit longer than she told us in our versions of the recipe (and she pokes the cake with a toothpick to let the steam out). This of course let to my mom loudly defending herself, her baking, and her recipe passing skills. The whole debate ended with laughter and chocolate cake all around.
This entire exchange, which probably took only 10 minutes of the 24 hours I was with my family, reminded me why I love food so much. Sure, there’s the flavors, textures, smells, and appearances of food that are so powerful and captivating. But, more importantly for me, food creates and evokes memories, laughter, and love. If you think this sounds cheesy, you’re not alone. As I write it, it seems cheesy to me too. But it also seems true. I remember my favorite events, places, and people through food. I can conjure up the feelings of those people and places by recreating the food. After my grandmother passed, I found myself making her cake or her meat and potato pie every time I thought of her. It made me happier, and brought back memories. My husband and I occasionally have a dinner made up of cheese, bread, dry sausage, and wine. This immediately transports us back to our trip to Europe, dining in cafes in Paris and Vevey.
The greatest thing about all of this, is that the food doesn’t have to be fancy or fussy. Proust had it right with his image of madeleines and tea: The simplest foods are often the most powerful – saltines with butter and jelly bring back a perfectly clear image my grandma and papa’s kitchen in Tennessee, with Papa spreading the toppings on the crackers and handing them out to us. It wasn’t anything special to him at the time – it was probably his attempt to pacify two young girls with big appetites until grandma returned home from the store – but to me that simple snack always brings back a warm fuzzy memory.
Wishing you fond memories old and new -
RR
(and promising more recipes soon)
