Susanne Can Cook

I loved my mom. She was a strong and stubborn woman, who had strong opinions about what I should or shouldn’t do my entire life. I was a gentle rebel; neither openly defying, nor cheerfully obeying.

I watched her decline while she lived with me, going from being able to cook for herself a bit to barely having the ability to make a pot of tea. Once she was placed in a nursing home, that descent into incapacity roller-coastered through her at breakneck pace.

I grieved some while she was alive. Not being able to have heart to heart talks about work and boys and becoming mostly an errand girl for her many needs stripped our relationship of its intimacy. It crushed my heart and I cried in my car as I left so many times I lost count. I lost pieces of her as time went by. It was like watching gorgeous roses die in a vase. It’s definitely too late, they can’t be saved, you can only watch what’s left shrivel and fall away.

Mom always wanted me to learn to sew, quilt, crochet and bake. All very precise and even-tempered hobbies for even tempered people. But I was impatient and wanted faster results . I tried, really. She gave me yarn scraps to make a Barbie afghan once. Let’s just say my Barbie is still cold.

So due to my need for immediate gratification coupled with a bit of mild rebellion, I had never truly baked. I made cake mix instant pudding bundts, and scoured Pinterest for simple fake out recipes that made it seem like I worked harder than I did. I focused on cooking like TV chefs, quick and easy meals or gimmicky grocery store helps. When it came to crafts, I wanted things that were the same, like scrap-booking. Stickers and pretty paper were my life; they already looked great, I had just had to move them around and paste them down! Genius!

But when Mom died, I was unsure how to process my grief. I was more angry than sad, and felt a need to take action of a sort. I thought of my kitchen and how spending time there had always calmed me. I started small. I just cooked a few meals, but real, true food. I baked a pan of brownies from scratch. Each time I went to the grocery store I stood in the baking aisle studying the ingredients for new and inventive ideas.

I wrote two recipes over the holidays. I made the tastiest pumpkin pie ever using multiple naturals sweeteners, and peppermint brownies that were a huge hit with my physical therapists. I baked sugar cookies and hand decorated them with detailed designs. Some results were more successful than others, but for me that’s not the point. It’s the start of slowing down. The beginning of measuring, sifting, whisking, folding, tempering, and all the careful, thoughtful words that apply to baking.

And, I’ll keep remembering Mom in the good days, before the walker and nursing home. Working through my grief bit by bit. Bake by bake. I hope she’s watching and she’s proud.