Another wonderful, disorienting day during the Coronavirus epidemic and I find myself sorting through my cookbooks and old recipes to remind myself of exactly how to make “Cora’s peach cobbler”.
That’s what I named it. A delicious dish, true, but for also symbolic of the person and times that brought this wonderful treat into my life and all that I gained from that seminal exchange.
These last few months, being bottled up indoors has simultaneously released in me an ability to journey through past present and future realms. Today was no exception as I sorted through my recipes in their myriad forms (always one to seize the moment, I have them documented on note pads, typing paper, napkins, paper plates, old work stationery, and even parchment paper). In my sorting, I found much more than ingredients, proportions and words.
• Mr. Brown’s Rice Pudding (circa 1981), the only one Eric liked! I am sure I spend the first 20 years of my marriage (when I was a much more “active” chef), trying to replicate a dish even half as good
• Daddy’s rendition of Mommy’s Carrot Cake (circa 2002), which he signed and dated as mom dictated (“Van S. Bird, Easter Even, March 30, 2002”). This one fills me with mystery. First, religious scholars, what is “Easter Even”? And where was I that Daddy acted as secretary?
• Zadisha’s healthy food guide (circa 2010) on all things fish and veggies, arriving after I shared the inevitable challenges of an aging body
• Lavelle’s strawberry truffle (circa 2003), my hair stylist, who lived his life all the way, all the time, with all of himself
• Aunt May’s Shrimp Calypso (circa 1998) - clearly copped on my then employer’s dime as its captured on work letterhead - that is my go-to for the wok and big crowds
• Essence’s All-Purpose carrot cake (circa 1992), to place on my dear sister’s table, cut from a magazine and with a little Lionel Richie “on the side”
• Dwayne’s eggnog and rum (circa 1990), jotted on the back of a paper plate (and after a lot of sips to verify its goodness) 😊
• Chef Joe Randall’s seafood gumbo (circa 2010), circulated during a cooking class in Savannah on a girls’ trip with five wonderful sisters
• Yanna’s quiche (circa 2006), a recipe provided through email in which she warns me to wait until she gets there to actually make it
• Andrea’s pine nut salad (circa 2000), which started me on my love of spinach (and pine nuts)
• The cookbooks, my favorite of which are 1) Home Economics (circa 1974), that taught me how to measure and what a braising meat meant; 2) Junior Leagues’ 80th anniversary edition, a gift from Alicia now threadbare from my experimentation; and 3) the Flying Biscuit, gifted from Phillip Rush, upon which I can claim the flakiest garlic cheese biscuits in town.
It’s over food - hummus & wine, martinis and calamari, turkey and stuffing – that we get to nourish our bodies and share the quintessential narratives of our lives. We realize anew that when we share our stories with one another, they are instantly altered by their receipt.
And like a recipe, when we share, we instantaneously get to edit the next chapter -- by moving forward, rolling back or flipping the ingredients!
With others, our personal recipes are enriched: our feelings can be transformed into ideas and our ideas grown into visions; our parts can become wholes and our questions answered.
And our cobblers come out perfectly.
Happy Sunday, y’all.
