Thirty-eight years ago today, my mother died. I’ve had a hard time with the month of November ever since.
Unlike the the November 1973 memories so vivid—even today—in my mind, this November 4 is a bright and mild day. A comforting day, wrapping me in the warmth of late autumn sun pouring through the windows. The sunshine, rather than the cold, gloomy rain that conjures the day of her funeral, allows me to think about my mother in the kitchen. The kitchen was her realm, where she was queen and where (I believe) she was happiest.
My mother loved to cook and she was a lifelong learner. In the kitchen, Peg Bracken and Julia Child were her mentors and experimentation was her sport. My most favorite childhood cooking memories involve my mother, in a full-on impersonation of Julia, cooking up a storm. Me and my visiting friend laughing ’til it hurt. We had just reconfigured the layout of the kitchen to feature the latest trend: a cooktop peninsula. Surrounded by her shiny new avocado green appliances, much like Julia’s television set, she pulled out all the stops. Over the clanking of pots and knives, she smiled out at the imaginary camera and showed off her full range of talents.
Of course, cooking in the late 60s and early 70s involved a lot of shortcuts and magical kitchen chemistry. Things like cream of mushroom soup and Ritz crackers made their way into a lot of dishes. I remember my sense of awe (and fear) when I learned that Jello came from horses’ hooves.
Whether my mother served up grilled tuna and Swiss cheese sandwiches, warm chocolate chip cookies or some mysterious, creamy casserole, I loved it all. She cooked scratch recipes, too, with real ingredients. But I recall a special gleam in her eye when she tried out something new from Peg Bracken’s I Hate to Cook Book. Unbridled joy.
A few favorites from her recipe box, collected from all kinds of crazy sources:
- Tangy Oven-Fried Chicken (featuring Worcestershire and tobasco sauce)
- Chocolate Peanut Bars (featuring the miracle ingredient of the day, corn syrup)
- Whoopie Pies (the same then as now, fluffed with a sugary Crisco filling)
- Meatloaf (with dehydrated onion soup mix, another key staple and ketchup, of course)
- Baked Stuffed Jumbo Shrimp (buttery and rich, which my sister still makes today for special occasions)
- Bonnie Butter Cake with Butter Cream Frosting (no mixes involved, and finishing up with frosting-filled graham cracker sandwiches)
She died when I was just a young teenager, so we never got to see her full evolution as a cook. I’m inclined to believe that she’d be quite comfortable by my side shopping at a farmers market today, coming home with me to create something new in my kitchen. She had an open mind about new ways of doing things. Yes, she was trendy in her own way.
Venturing out into the scary world of feeding myself, the cupboards of my first apartment were stocked with Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom Soup, Minute Rice and Ritz crackers. I tried to recreate her recipes and, like she did, keep a spirit of adventure about learning new ones.
As the years went by, I grew into a different kind of cook under the strong influence of two older sisters who long ago embraced whole foods, culinary experimentation and cooking with love. I’ve even come to see my now-adult son carry on the tradition of creative cooking. (Though he went through his own phase of mixing up mystery sauces by stirring up a frightening assortment condiments from the refrigerator door. Thankfully, I think he’s over that.)
The common threads running through the three generations of cooks are love and fun.
What a gift it is to cook with joy and share food with people you love. To laugh, stir, taste and experiment together in the kitchen creates the best kinds of memories. The kinds of memories that later just may balance the hard ones, on days like today.
Mrs. Smith’s Apple Pie (from the Boston Globe, September 17, 1964)
- 1 quart sliced, pared apples (about 12)
- 1/2 to 3/4 cup of brown or white sugar
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 3/4 teaspoon sugar
- 2 tablespoons butter
- pastry for 2 pie crusts
Slice pared apples into a big bowl, add sugar, salt and cinnamon. Let stand while pastry is made. Line a 9-inch pie plate with pastry; roll out top crust and make cuts in center. Fill pie plate with sliced apple, but do not use juice in the bottom of the bowl until later. Wet rim of bottom crust. Add top crust, trim edges and prick rim with fork tines. Decorate top crust with apple cut-outs if you wish. Bake in hot oven about 40 minutes. Spoon the juice from the bottom of bowl into a sauce pan, boil until thick and pour into center of hot pie.
Some things never change, eh? What are your family’s cooking traditions? What are your new ones?
My mother had the same influences… Julia Child and Peg Bracken. She was a whiz with one pot casseroles (the complete opposite of my husband’s mother who always made a meat, a vegetable and a starch for every dinner!) I wonder if your mother was ever found laughing uncontrollably while reading an Erma Bombeck book? I think the women of our mothers’ generation were finding new joy/new freedom and humor in the audacity of women who were questioning the ‘Perfect Housewife’ of the ’50s. I loved watching my mother ‘crack up’ over some passage of those books, or over the antics of Julia on her daily TV show. Thanks for sharing/reminding me of those happy days in Michigan that centered on the kitchen!
Yes!! I almost mentioned Erma Bombeck, but left it out to stick to cooking thoughts. I think your theory is just right. My mother had a feisty independent streak that was probably influenced by the likes of Peg and Erma. Those were very dog-eared books, as I recall!
This is such a nice post Eleanor! I’m a little younger, but when I was little I LOVED Julia Child! Your mom sounds really special – and she and my mom must have been reading the same cookbooks (Julia excluded – too much real food for my mom, lol)
Special memories, indeed. I remember gathering around the television to watch Julia as a family.
My mom and her sisters just teased me for liking Julia so much.
What a wonderful memoriam! Even though my mom lamented about cooking–she really didn’t care for it in her later years– I think about the nuturing food that I associate with her–that unbelievable potroast with GRAVY (I have never had gravy since she died almost 11 years ago) the meatloaf, the custard that my grandmother made her and that she made me. I still have the recipe box that she gave me for my first apartment, filled with her handwritten recipes of my favorite dishes. Thanks for sharing!
I hope you cook a few of her recipes now and then to remember her!
Eleanor
Funny how we all call her by her first name, it seems Julia’s is the comforting voice we all hear in our heads…
You’re right. No matter how complicated her dishes were, she always had a “you can do it” attitude.
Eleanor
Beautifully written and what an honoring of you mother. Some of the simplest and most positive moments of mother-daughter connection were definitely in the kitchen. I also loved the hours in her vegetable garden. Thanks.
A lovely tribute to your mum, Eleanor. I was born in ’73…(in January) and while it doesn’t seem that long when thinking on my own life, 38 years sure does seem a long time to be without your mum. <3
My mum has always been a great cook, but I'm not sure she loves it. She's not an experimenter like I am nor does she do as much from scratch. She's happy to buy a cake for a birthday…or a side salad for a meal…whereas for me, it all has to be done in my kitchen.
I hope my son grows up with a love of food and cooking, as yours has done. It's such a gift to pass on to them. Sending you lots of love during this difficult month. xo
Thank you for those warm sentiments, Debbie. There’s probably something to be gained by remembering your mother giving herself a break. After all, if she doesn’t love cooking, she should be doing something she does love. Maybe someday you’ll find yourself cutting a corner in the kitchen in order to do something else you love, and you’ll think of her. As for your son, he’s lucky to have a mother like you, who shares her passions so generously.
My mother should have been reading and watching Julia Child! She was not a very good cook, except when it came to desserts – she had a huge sweet tooth! Although we were not close, I do imagine shopping and spending time with her – we’d probably be disagreeing – and envy the women who still have moms.
Thanks for such a heartfelt post. I’ve been thinking of my mom often these days and imagining her in the kitchen preparing for the holidays. Living away is particularly difficult this year as I find my heart leaning her direction more and more.
Thanks, Joan. My thoughts will be with you as you create a spiritual connection with your mother. November and December really call on us to feel those connections, or evoke them if they’re not readily accessible. I hope your holiday season is gentle and filled with love.
Eleanor
Beautiful tribute to your mom, Eleanor. My mama died 14 years ago – I was 48, not a teen – but still and all I’m with you on missing our mom’s at the holidays. Mine was NOT a good cook and didn’t enjoy it all – I think any love of cooking I have comes from my paternal grandmother – but there were little food traditions that DID stick with me – my mom’s signature dish was scalloped potatoes and those she did very well. Blessings to you as you maneuever these tradition-laden months remembering your mom.
Thanks, Diane. Those mother memories are powerful, indeed. My mom made a mean scalloped potato dish, too. I don’t think I’ve ever quite lived up to that one!