Tuesday, November 01, 2011
Today in cooking class we did a chicken and vegetable plait and a pastie. And the whole thing - making the stuffing and spreading and cutting the dough reminded me of her. My grandma. My uncle used to say that my grandma was one of the finest cooks that ever lived. I was a child at the time, and so I simply shrugged my shoulders and kept eating whatever was on my plate. But now, as I recall the flavours, the smells, the taste of it all I must say I agree one hundred per cent. As time passed I grew into a broody teenager and, despite having a more refined palate that could tell how delicious everything she made was, I never said a word. I planned on asking her for some of her recipes, learning from her how to do it and then record it all on a notebook or something. But our relationship wasn't the greastest and I kept dragging it on, not wanting to admit her food was good that she actually had something to teach me. Maybe next year..., I'd say to myself. Time was on my side, or so I thought. And then she died. And I was left with nothing more than regret. That and one recipe. Filhoses (traditional fried dessert for Christmas) that she'd learned from her mum and that she insisted to pass on to me, since I was the only woman left able to carry on making them. That's it. I miss my grandma. I think she'd be really proud of how my life is turning up. But also, I miss what I was too stuborn to ask for. For all I could've learned and shared with her. But I guess that's just something I'll have to learn how to live with.