Recipe for Living

With the holidays approaching, it makes me think of my grandfather, God rest his soul. He LOVED to cook. To him, every day was Thanksgiving or Christmas or Fourth of July and any excuse he could use to fire up the grill or put a pot of water to boil, he certainly did just that!

It was fairly standard practice – and often in unison – when you walked through the door at my grandparent’s house your greeting would include “are you hungry? Did you eat?” He was always conjuring up some new recipe for eggs or fresh pasta sauce or frying up his latest catch from the bay, yet the aromas that emanated from their kitchen had a familiar and comforting place in my nose. He was famous for his pesto sauce and had quite a talent for BBQ chicken and sausage. It wasn’t uncommon for him to light up the grills at 9am and slow cook the chicken all day. My grandmother would run circles around him prepping all the basics; picking veggies from their ridiculously large veggie garden, chopping them into the desired diced pieces, peeling onions and potatoes, grabbing the flour, the sugar, the salt… and of course cleaning up the mess he left behind in a whirlwind of creativity.

But even stronger than his love for cooking was his desire to be surrounded by family and friends; food, although an important part, in essence, was just a backdrop. The old saying “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach” was basic recipe for living in my grandparent’s house, only he was the one cooking and winning the hearts of all who walked through his door.

It wasn’t uncommon for him to make friends with strangers and of course, do what he did best, preach the gospel and prepare a feast for the king of all kings! My grandfather knew more people around the world than I can ever imagine. I’m pretty sure somewhere out there is a man (or many men and women) telling the story of “this one time when I visited Center Moriches I met a man named Martin…” This was how he shared himself with the world and in doing so, he has left a legacy of himself, through food.

So this holiday season, and every single one to come, I vow to make an unforgettable aromatic memories for my son so that my legacy (and my grandfather’s) will be passed on to generations after me. And most of all, this Thanksgiving, I am thankful to have that opportunity.