When I was in college I spent the weekend with a fraternity brother at his parent’s house in Houston for his birthday.
My finances were usually tight and I was never one to turn down a few days of free meals (and access to someone else’s liquor cabinet). They had a small group of family friends and relatives over and Bryan’s mother made us a Stouffer’s lasagna.
I remember thinking how sad it was that he made the seven hour drive to Houston, to see his parents on his birthday, and his mother put a six pound frozen pasta-brick in the oven.
That was the first time I’d had a Stouffer’s lasagna – or any frozen lasagna – and I remember that it was fine.
Flavorless,….. and fine.
If I had invited a fraternity brother to our house for the weekend my mother would have actually made a lasagna, or white chicken chili, and at the very least her chocolate cherry cake.
When I was growing up we had family diner every night – we rarely went to restaurants because anything they served could always be made better at home. For every meal we sat at the kitchen table, napkins in laps, television turned off and a conversation topic other than who threw up a school that day. Everybody usually helped with the preparation; someone was in charge of a veggie, my brother Josh would be on the grill, and I made the salad.
From a very young age we were involved in the cooking. My mother taught me to roast a chicken when I was eight.
It wasn’t just food that brought us together as a family, it also connected us to our past.
How could I ever make chicken paprika without thinking about my grandmother?
A couple decades ago my mother’s sister Jean was quizzing my grandmother about a dish neither of them had made in a years, and neither of them could remember the exact recipe. Not so much the ingredients but also the techniques it took.
That’s when she started writing them down.
It wasn’t long after that that my Aunt Jean presented me with my personal copy of those family recipes she’s been compiling; like chicken paprika, stuffed peppers, pirogi, rhubarb custard pie, and cabbage rolls. Nothing fancy, nothing overly complicated.
Just the same good food we’d been eating at those family diners all of our lives.
She called her book “Family Secrets”.
But it was so much more than just a recipe book, it was also a charm-filled read.
Because recipes, and more importantly the techniques, weren’t the only thing that my aunt had documented. She also incorporated stories about her family. There are tales of growing up Polish Catholic in a small town, and her childhood summers in Ohio, of my young grandparents, their neighbors, family holidays, and, of course, every story ends with a meal.
Last month she had the joy of seeing her book published.
Good thing too, because my original copy is a little stained (I prefer to think of it as “seasoned”) after all these years.
That’s my Aunt Jean, with my mother and my Aunt Pat, on the cover.
If you care to mosey on over to Amazon and grab yourself a copy I guarantee it’ll be worth your while.
I don’t cook as much as I used to.
But when I do,
These are the dishes that remind me of those family diners at the kitchen table.
THE CAVENDER DIARY 
Hi James. This is so incredibly touching. It’s those people of a certain age, (clears throat) you and me, who remember those family dinners around the table. And I always liked to set the table because even though the plates didn’t match necessarily, I made sure that everything looked nice. I still do; Although it’s rare that there’s many dinners here anymore. However, I could feed 100 people and they would have their own dinner plate.
We did not have a lot of money, but that did not matter. I still thought everything was beautiful and good. My Mum made delicious, simple food. Except when it came to desserts. Remember those days when we used to have dessert every night after dinner? Boy, those were the days!! And the funny thing is because when I used to go to my friend Kim’s for dinner I used to like it there because her Mum used to make scallop potatoes with Campbell’s mushroom soup. My Mum never made it that way, she made it the old fashion way with milk and butter and layers and all that. That’s still how I make it too. I am going to purchase this book and I also am going to sit my mom down and I’m going to get all those recipes that are special to our family. And the stories behind them all. Thank you for the very sentimental and very welcome reminder of simpler, special times with special people.
Christine (outside of Vancouver BC Canada)
Hi Christine, glad you liked it. These recipes always take me back to those times. I’m so lucky that my aunt saved them this way.
What a great post! It was the same for me, homemade food lovingly made by my mom with the family’s secrets!
It seems like a lifetime ago when I had a home-cooked meal 7 nights a week. I’ve never made a rhubarb custard pie… but I’m planing on baking one as soon as I see rhubarb in the stores. The last time I tasted one, grandma made it. That was about 40 years ago. Funny how food can connect us…
I loved your story so much! Reminded me of my own family dinners growing up. My mother passed away in 2017 and I still think of her everyday. Our mother’s worked so hard to make dinner every night. We would wait until my father got home from work then we would sit together at the kitchen table (the dining room was for holidays only). Food was always made from scratch, rarely were any prepackaged products used. She baked almost everyday, yet none of us were overweight. I hope there are still families out there that carry on this simple daily ritual.
I’d like to believe that there are families that still have diner rituals like we did. And same, our formal dining room, and the “good” china, was saved just for the holidays.
This is such a beautiful story of when family mattered and their gatherings around the kitchen table. It saddens me to know that the recipes that my grandmother then my mother then me prepared will be lost to the new generation due to lack of interest
Awww, I’m so grateful that my aunt saved them. Sadly, I think the new generation is fine with DoorDash.
What a wonderful, and thoughtful way to share your families history. Every family needs an Aunt Jan! The stories of your Grandparents give you a glance into a much simpler, happier, safer time. The world would be a better place if more families ate around the table.
Agreed, but times change, and at a stay at home mom hovering over a hot stove all day seems like a cliche. But those times flood back to me whenever I make one of these dishes.