Sunday, July 12, 2020

The Heart of My Home

 


It all started after unpacking my waffle iron and cookbooks.  I decided it was about time to get back to Sunday morning breakfasts and make some waffles – something I hadn’t been able to do since before we hit the road traveling. I grabbed one of my favorite cookbooks, The Breakfast Book by Marion Cunningham published in 1987. As if by magic, the book opened to the one and only waffle recipe I make. This is a well-loved, well-worn cookbook of mine, so it comes as no surprise that it should open to this particular page where the Classic Waffle recipe lives.

I fondly glanced through the pages of Cunningham’s ode to what breakfast used to be, and took note of the many notations I have made along the margins and within the recipes. I found myself smiling as I paged through remembering baking up a storm between the pages, as it were. Having traveled full time for nearly four years, plus another year or so added to that packing up our old home and settling into our new one, it had been way too long for this girl to be away from these old friends of hers. This is when I realized that these cooking and baking guides were like long lost friends. It brought tears to my eyes just contemplating this. While I mostly cooked wherever we were traveling, I knew I missed having a fully stocked kitchen with my own tools of the trade. But I had no idea what an emotional impact my cookbooks and files of recipes would have on me.

Having a kitchen of my own again with my tools and my cookbooks is finding the heart of my new home. And I'm finding that old sense of peace and focus as I craft wonderful food. There’s been a bit of a learning curve with our new appliances as I’m not used to convection or cooking with gas, but I’ve been in learning mode before and remain undaunted. Plus, I have the opportunity to have old cookbook friends drop in from time to time and guide me to creating good food and memories once again. One never knows where an old friend may turn up, or where old memories can be found, but I will not soon forget the overwhelming feeling of joy I felt the day I re-opened the old friend of mine that helped me find the heart of my new home.
Stay safe and take care,
  Michelle
Waffle photos courtesy of damclark photos
                 
You may be interested to know the photos above show my 1929 waffle iron. It was my Grandma Mary’s and she knew the year she bought it because that was the year her first son, my Uncle Roy, was born. He and my waffle iron celebrated their 91st birthday this year. I wrote a post on my awful waffle history back in 2012. You can read about it here.
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