Favorite Cooking Memories (Part 2)

I’m so happy to share more of the precious kitchen memories sent in by my BBFFs who entered my recent Favorite Cooking Memories Giveaway … to quote a line I love from the awesome movie 100-Foot Journey (a must-see if you haven’t yet: a sweet romance for foodies): “Food is memories.”

Be sure to scroll back to Part 1 (yesterday’s post) so you don’t miss those terrific memories as well.

Also, I do apologize that the final story is a bit long, but it’s very near and dear to my heart (as you’ll see when you read it). It was a complete surprise to receive it, elicited a few buckets of tears, and I just had to include it in its entirety.

Enjoy, my friends! I hope these snippets of joy bring back your own happy kitchen memories.

My favorite memory is making biscuits with my granny. It all started when I was five or six; I would pull up a chair and watch her mix the ingredients and start rolling out the dough. One day she smiled and handed me a small piece. I said, “You want me to make a biscuit too?” She said, “Let’s see what you can do since you’ve been watching me all this time.”

So with my biggest smile, I rolled that small piece of dough until it made a ball. Then I placed it on the baking sheet and flattened it out the best I could. Needless to say my first biscuit looked more like a pancake, but it tasted so good to me. That was the first of many times that I helped my granny make biscuits. It will be a memory that I will cherish forever. I sure miss those days growing up and learning life lessons from her.  ~Donna S.  

My favorite memory is cooking with my grandmother when I was young (10-15 years old). My grandmother lived with us and did all the cooking. I can remember her showing me how to fix her homemade chicken and dumplings, rolling out the dough, cutting the noodles, and dropping them into the broth. Today, my grandmother’s chicken and dumplings is my favorite dish!  ~Sheila P.

In my formative teenage years, I often felt lost and confused as the product of a broken home. Then I met Adele Mitchell, my home economics teacher, who became like a mom to me. Mrs. Adele saw something in me that I wasn’t able to see in myself at the time. She often invited me to her home where she had two daughters near my age, Cindy and Debbie (now known as Debora Coty, the Too Blessed to be Stressed author). They were angels in my eyes because every night they would both have their “One Way” Bibles and do a thing called a devotional and they would talk about God! Their home was a reflection of God’s presence. I would rather be there than anywhere else.

It was like an episode of Leave it to Beaver – the meals were on the table at the same time every day, and as we all sat down, Mr. Frank said the blessing and then we ate and shared how our day went. They always had something for dessert too! Then after the meal, everyone got up and cleaned the kitchen. What!?? All played a part in the home. Little did they know as a family how they were landmarking me for Kingdom purposes!

Which brings me to my favorite memory in their kitchen: Christmas baking. I’d never seen or heard of any such thing as making hundreds of cookies in one day to give as gifts to your friends and neighbors. Mrs. Adele would pack us all into her tiny kitchen and we would work on the same recipe together before going to the next one. And little ole me had never heard of a “Cheese Straw”! To this day, Christmas isn’t the same without them!

There would be cookies everywhere, cookie tins, and white confectioners powder in places that left you wondering how it ever got there. But most of all, there was LOVE. They knew how to put love in every recipe. And that was what I enjoyed eating the most! They taught me so much about life and what I yearned for as a human being – a personal relationship with Jesus.

Every moment in their home taught me about a risen Savior, whom I would eventually say Yes to. In 1986, when I finally laid my life down at the cross, with many miracles following, I would return to these, my fondest memories, and begin to recreate them in my own home. Now it’s become a sacred time, that thing called, “Christmas baking time.” A place where you gather with those you love, laugh your cares away, and package them all up in beautiful tins and then go spread the love!

Sounds so much like our God, doesn’t it? He gives us a gift and tells us to go share it with our world. I’m so very thankful for this family that landmarked me for Him, and generations to come. Oh, how I can’t wait to bake with my grandchildren … maybe we should do Christmas in July too!   ~Liz G.