Many of you might have noticed my recent absence from Facebook over the last few weeks. On November 9, my family suffered a great loss with the passing of my father's mother, Irene. My dad's side of the family is small, he is one of three children with four grandchildren. So growing up it was just me, my sister, and my two cousins, Matthew and Adam, which meant my grandma spoiled us rotten. Almost every Sunday my family would cram ourselves into her modest home, the home where my father grew up, and we would feast on the most delicious home cooking. Even as my cousins, sister, and I grew older, we were still sent to sit at the "kid's table." I didn't mind though. I looked forward to the friendly banter, laughter, and storytelling that always ensued whenever we were together. Grandma had the memory of an elephant. I swear to god, she would tell stories and I would just look at her and marvel at the itty-bitty details she could recall. She had the sharpest wit and would threaten to bring out her old wooden spoon to smack us on the dupah (that's slang for butt haha) should we cross her or our parents. She had the heart and soul of a saint. She was kind, generous, compassionate, and I could go on. Her viewing was attended by more than 300 people, which I think speaks volumes on how much of an impact she made on people's lives. And as I stood by my family, accepting the condolences of everyone, there was one remark that I heard over and over again, "Sarah, she was so proud of you," and I couldn't help but smile. I smiled because my grandma was the person who said since I was 12 that I needed to go to culinary school. She knew that I always gravitated towards the kitchen, burying my nose in cookbooks, and was watching the Food Network when kids my age were watching Nickelodeon. I smiled because my passion for cooking and baking had a lot to do with her.
So many of our family traditions were rooted in the kitchen and I truly believe that's why I'm so passionate about food. My grandma was the one who was responsible for creating those traditions! My childhood memories are filled with moments spent with her in the kitchen, learning how to make pie crust, pierogies, strawberry jam, pumpkin rolls, pigs in the blanket, and most importantly.. pound cake! Special occasions within my family were always accompanied by my grandma's pound cake. It was a rich, dense cake that she served with fresh strawberries and whipped cream. Simple, ridiculously delicious! So it only seemed fitting that in the days following her death, I make the recipe that reminded me of her.
As I measured everything out, the memories of her came flooding over me. The measuring cups she always used, the way she prepared the bundt pan, how she told me over and over again not to try the sour cream even though I insisted it had to be sweet because it looked like fluff!
When I pulled the cake from the oven, the smell made my heart ache. I've always related memories with smells and this old familiar smell, it felt like my grandma with surrounding me. In that moment I realized that even though she is gone, I'll always have baking as a way to relive my memories with her... And I wouldn't trade that for the world.
So with holidays quickly approaching... I ask you to slow down. Put away your phones. Spend QUALITY time with your family and make memories with one another that you can cherish for years to come. I attached the recipe for my grandma's pound cake, and I hope that you'll enjoy it as much as I do.
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