I have always hated the feeling of regret. The dread of it has caused me to change my plans or my mind on many instances. It has also protected me many times. It has left me wondering other times.
Both of my grandmothers were good cooks. I had many more opportunities to experience my Granny’s food than my Grandmomma’s. I have a few of my Granny’s actual dishes, but I have none of her recipes. I regret that I never asked her how she made her green beans so much better than average. I wish I had her recipe for lemon meringue pie. I’ve never had a better one than hers.
Her life was so different than mine. My sweet, tiny Grandmomma was the same. I wish I could go back and ask how they did it. How did they deal with the questions, doubts, fears, and regrets? How did they keep on keeping on when their lives were collapsing in on them?
What I find myself longing for are connections to their lives, connections to their times. I need to know that we all want and need the same basic things, no matter when or where we live.
I regret that I do not have a single recipe from either of my grandmothers. (If your grandmother or mother wants to be a surrogate to me, I would happily, graciously, and enormously appreciate her recipe for anything!! Please, feel free to leave the recipe or just a link to it in a comment, and I would greatly appreciate it!)
A recipe may seem like such an inconsequential thing. As many of my children approach adulthood, I find myself second guessing every moment that I can remember. I know that I couldn’t do it 100% right. I want them to know, though, that even though I’m not perfect, I do want the very best for them. I want to leave them with lingering memories of the love that existed for them. Love that sought to nourish and sustain them, just like those meals my grandmothers made for their families.
If you are lucky enough to still have grandparents or parents living, please ask for those recipes that are special to you, and if you can get them to write it down for you, you’ll treasure it even more!