Today is the one-year anniversary of my Grandmother’s passing. I’m trying to be upbeat as I know she wouldn’t want me to wallow but the truth is I miss her. She’s the only grandparent I got to know as an adult and there are so many times I still reach for the phone to call her.
I know she loved food and understand she was a fairly good cook, although the only memories I have of her cooking were cookie boxes she would make for each of her grandchildren for Hanukkah.
When I was about 10-years-old Gram developed food allergies; she thought it was the result of having her gallbladder removed. So for the last 18 years of her life she wasn’t able to eat any dairy, gluten or MSG. But she had a wish-list of the foods she wanted to eat when she was on her deathbed. Oh, how I miss her sense of humor. Alas, she passed away in her sleep and never got to enjoy her last meal.
But you should’ve seen the way this woman ate lobster or smoked whitefish. Boy, did she love it, she would pick the shells/bones clean with her fingers as not to waste a crumb.
Throughout the past year I’ve posted two of her recipes, one for tornado cookies that were my sister’s and my favorite from the cookie box, and the other for junk, a recipe rediscovered by my mom after cleaning out her apartment.
So today as I help my parents prepare for a family BBQ, I recall one of my grandmother’s favorite phrases: If they don’t come, they don’t have to go home.”
And Gram, I promise not to pick up hitchhikers on my way home.