The pieces left behind

I’ve been thinking lately about posterity. It comes with the prominence of wrinkles. I’ve wondered what my children will remember most about me. It might be that I was a strict mother (She was mean!), or that I preferred family time over all else (She never let us have our friends over!), or that I made everything from scratch (She made us eat whole grain noodles!), or that I loved family movie night (She used to hog the couch on movie night!). Above all else, I hope they recall how much I love them (She wanted to hug us all the time!).

Life is about more than today, and more than yourself.

We cannot as children know the mind of our parents. Not until we grow older and have lived a bit of life. Was I strict? Of course! There’s no better way to learn right from wrong, manners and good behavior, than at and from home. I was their first teacher. If it meant I taught them to survive, I’ll gladly wear the “Mean” banner. My reward? I have very well-mannered adult children. Were their friends welcome? Of course! Did I prefer time with my children than time with all others? Of course! Only a parent knows. Do I love their friends? Of course! I just prefer my kids. My reward? My kids know they matter most.

Did I make them eat “weird” food? Of course (if you call whole wheat flour “weird”)! How better to learn the palates of the world than to try something with various ingredients, right from home? Did I make them try alternate flours? Did I use coconut milk? Did I use egg substitutes and Adams peanut butter? Of course! My reward? All of them love to try new foods (and all later thanked me). My other reward? Currently, among the five people I call my children, there is lactose intolerance, severe food allergies, gluten intolerance AND Celiac disease; I have no choice. It’s second nature to each of them for me to use almond flour, or egg substitute, or coconut milk in my cooking. They don’t blink an eye when they know something I’ve made uses non-traditional ingredients.

What will your legacy be?

We’re gathering soon for a birthday celebration, and I’ll be cooking the meal. The requested dessert was Short Cake with fresh berries. How could my son have known that his great, great grandma Lucy had the best recipe ever? Did he know about the butter layer in the middle? I wrote about Lucy’s delicious dessert a while ago; you can see the recipe and ingredients here.

What will your great-grandchildren be told about you?

I never met Lucy, nor did my children, but all of us visited the house where she raised her children. We stood in her kitchen. I have something that belonged to her.

This was Lucy’s cookbook, one she passed on to her daughter, Dorothy, my children’s grandma. The binding is there but hardly functional.

The pages are very fragile. They feel thin and dry; they crumble to the touch.

The pages are so old and dry, in fact, simple touching and turning breaks off tiny pieces. And, this seemed rather symbolic. I cannot handle or look through this book without leaving tiny pieces behind.

And, that’s when it hit me that my legacy does not need to be extravagant. It need not be expensive items, heirlooms, or hefty bank accounts. Maybe the best legacy is the way in which someone is remembered, the way in which someone lived their life. It could be in the way someone prepared for each day, the design of the food on the table. Maybe it’s simple preparation, thinking of others.

Creating a legacy does not have to be a burden,

The short cake recipe calls for many taboo ingredients. While I’ve made this more than once as written, my cupboards hold a variety of choices.

I have in stock gluten-free, oat, brown rice, coconut, and tapioca flours.

it can be your joy and can create

I keep on hand coconut milk in both the carton and the can. I recently started making oat milk and oat cream from that oat milk. Ever tried ice cream made with both full fat coconut milk and home made oat cream? It’s a work in progress. And, speaking of ice cream, do you know that a fabulous sugar free fudge sauce can be made using unsweetened chocolate, cream, butter, sour cream, and sugar substitute? Stay tuned….

your satisfaction with living each day.

I have coconut sugar, Truvia, Stevia, Splenda, plain old sucrose, and honey and molasses. I keep egg replacer in the cupboard and fresh eggs in the fridge. If neither works, I keep a chart nearby of other replacements for eggs. Bananas can be used depending on the recipe. I was once told by one of my children that they love to eat at my house because I store all the non-traditional ingredients. That’s not a compliment I’ll ever forget.

What kind of world do you want to leave your great-grandchildren?

I keep Smart Balance in the freezer for when I want to bake something calling for butter. Is it the same? No. Does the final product lack in taste? Sometimes one can tell, but it’s not so different as to be unacceptable. Do I make a practice of using plastic butter? No. Do we all prefer the original ingredients? Sometimes, but are we willing to forego the “regular” stuff so that one person can enjoy the meal? Better yet: am I willing, as the cook, to make an original AND a second one for the people who cannot tolerate the regular ingredients? Of course! I love to bake (meaning, they will always want to visit, and they will know I’ll be well-prepared).

What can you do today to help create that world?

~ Jonathan Lockwood Huie

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My children don’t need me the way they used to; they are what the world calls millenials. They are grown and quite capable of making their own mistakes decisions. I cannot solve all of their problems, I cannot fix the troubles they meet. I can, however, give them the fuel to function at their optimal best. When they share my table, I can provide nourishment I know works for their bodies, eliminate those that don’t.

It goes back to their first dinner table when they saw “brown” noodles for the first time. I wanted them to consider other options. It goes back to those oat pancakes that to this day, they say, made them gag. I wanted them to be open to new ideas. All three swear we force fed them garden beets. I don’t remember it exactly that way, but…

Life is about more than ourselves.

These are the pieces I’m leaving behind.

 

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P.S. I was a couch hog.