Photo by jeffreyW
My mom left us this week. I’m not sure quite yet how to process it all. There were a lot of hugs, tears and laughs as we shared stories and remembered her. We said goodbye on the coldest, windiest day imaginable, which seemed fitting somehow.
What is most important for you to know is that she is why I cook, why I share recipes with you. Why the kitchen is a place of joy and warmth and creation. She never met a dish she couldn’t improve on, a recipe that she wouldn’t tackle, or a lesson she couldn’t teach in the kitchen. Success or failure, it didn’t matter, what mattered was you tried. And if was a complete disaster, then you laughed it off and salvaged what you could, but you never let that discourage you from trying again.
And just like Julia Child, you never let them know if the chicken falls onto the floor, you just pick it up and dust it off and serve it as if nothing happened.
Never let the ingredients intimidate you. Cook what you love. Sometimes what looks like a failure turns out to be a completely new creation. And a pie tastes just as good with an ugly crust as it does with beautiful lattice.
Rest in peace, Mom. My best spaghetti sauces will always be the ones you taught me and the sweetest cookies will be the ones I made by myself the first time under your watchful eye.