Perfect Weekend
“When I tasted it, that’s when I realized that my mother was dead,” he said. “I realized that I was never going to taste that dish again the way my mother made it. The person who makes the food – his physique, his soul – is unique. It’s like fingerprints, or handwriting.” – Musa Dagdeviren, quoted in “The Memory Kitchen” by Elif Batuman in the New Yorker, April 19, 2010.
The article was about a man (Musa) who is trying to resurrect the food culture of Turkey. I thought about this quote on and off all weekend.
I’ll always remember the taste of my mother’s homemade baguettes, even though I haven’t tasted bread in years. I hope Josie remembers me for my soup – turkey rice, chicken noodle, curried squash, carrot orange, split pea – all made from scratch with homemade stock.
What food will you remember your mother or father for? What food will your children remember you for?
Hermit crabs?
The joy of throwing rocks never ends.
Buddy will remember that I wrapped all his food in Bacon! (starting with the Bacon Trail)
Who wouldn’t remember that? Everything is better wrapped in bacon.
I remember my mother’s chicken stew with dumplings. I haven’t had it in forever and she can’t remember how she made it. Sad.
I think the boys will always remember my cornbread stuffing. BTW they still cook for their family and friends, which is a joy to their significant others.
Sorry mom, but I gotta say tuna & noodles. If only I were noble enough to say hot white bread – straight from the oven, dripping in butter.
hmmm… my mom will be remembered for her spaghetti. she’s not much of a cook, which she will freely admit, but her spaghetti is great, slow-cooked, comforting.
I wonder what I’ll be remembered for in the kitchen. I don’t know. Long rainy afternoons spent with kids at my ankles, while I chop and simmer and taste and season. I hope that will be a fond memory for my kids. I know it will be for me.