Have you eaten, darling?
When I was a teenager I went with my family to visit my great grandparents. It was about this time of year, with the first view of holiday decorations popping up and Christmas music just hitting the radio stations. I was still young enough to get very excited about Christmas gifts piled around a glittering, pine smelling tree. However, moving further away from family had given my teenage perspective a nudge. And my idea of what to put on a wish list was changing along with it.
My great grandmother, Nana, was a formidable character. As a young girl, she seemed nothing less than a force of nature. She had an opinion or two, and never minded sharing them. After all, she had already lived an astonishing life. Two world wars, the roaring 20s, the Great Depression, falling and staying in love for a lifetime, the cultural changes of the 1960s, starting a business when few women did, losing a child, and the growth of a nation and it’s values for over 100 years. I’d say she earned every opinion, and I still respect them. However, it was crystal clear, even when I was a child, that her opinions were deeply rooted in caring and love. And damn if that woman wouldn’t move mountains for those she cared about. Despite all she had seen and done, there is one thing I remember about her most. Without fail, every time anyone walked in her door, she would ask the same question… “Have you eaten, darling?”
Maybe it was, in part, the fun and excitement of big family dinners. Or being surrounded by that kind of love. But Nana was an amazing cook. And, that year, what I wanted most was to always have just a bit of that. So, when she asked what I wanted for Christmas, I had only one answer. I wanted her to share her favorite recipes. I wanted to learn to be the kind of cook she was, and share that much love in food.
It turns out, Nana never wrote down a recipe. I could see the concern run across her face in frown lines. She realized she didn’t have them to give. So, she simply answered that she would try to jot some down. It was a concept I hadn’t considered, but it stuck with me all these years. It, in itself, was a gift that eventually made me the cook I am.
Over decades I’ve learned that cooking and baking is so much greater than following a recipe. After all, a recipe can never be perfected and shouldn’t be adhered to like the strong word of Nana’s advice. Concepts, ideas, inspiration and dishes are explored and evolved every single day we live. They continually grow with us, embodying our adventures and experiences. Cooking and baking are about understanding a process, but adding a bit of yourself and the care you have for the people you’re sharing food with. They are about celebrating life’s good times, and providing comfort in bad. Or, sometimes, just savoring a small everyday moment. They are not meant to be bound by measured ingredients or a particular process. They are about caring, and sharing, ourselves. like a memory of that moment in our lives.
It's always this time of year, in the midst of the crazy holiday season, that I like to stop and remember all that is truly valuable in this nutty world. I open the little recipe book my great grandmother, grandmother and mother pieced together for me that Christmas, and read the aging pen marks from their handwritten recipes. I feel their love in every scribbled and stained card. I smile at the idea of taking their history and adding a bit of myself to share with friends and family. And, as I step into the kitchen and start mixing ingredients, I can still hear Nana asking, “have you eaten, darling?”
Thank you, so much, for being part of our lives and bakery dream at 1871. We wish you the happiest holiday season, and hope you’re surrounded by love and caring this Christmas and all year long.
