Imitated each step. Followed every instruction. I struggle to prepare a meal to her perfection. I don’t possess the patience or skill to achieve mom’s cooking precision. She didn’t leave me her magic wand.
Mom prepared recipes mostly from recollection. When she tried a new recipe, it was soon transformed and committed to memory. She added or subtracted items, added her secret ingredients and of course waved her magic wand – as my family often jokes.
My mom never made a meal that wasn’t excellent. Something as mundane as macaroni and cheese – a work of art. Never using boxed mac and cheese – always working from scratch. Her mixture of three cheeses decadently blended into creamy bliss. She gently folded the ingredients together, then poured lovingly into a deep casserole dish. Next, it baked in the oven to achieve a slightly crunchy top with the steaming, velvety blend oozing with a mouthwatering aroma.
Just an ordinary day that consists of creatively cooking for four kids and her husband. She came from an era celebrating the everyday love of providing for a family. Her skills perfected by practice and care.
I took for granted her great talent. She would give me pointers. I half listened – not appreciating her knowledge. I thought cooking was easy. I follow her recipes to the detail. They’re never quite right. No magic wand here.
Her daily meals rivaled what I try to accomplish on a major holiday. She made it look easy. Her pies, roast pork, lasagna, chicken a la King and so many others are legendary. My parents owned a restaurant for a few years in the 1960s – the current owner still employs several of her original recipes 50 years later.
I miss her creations and ease in the kitchen, but I mostly miss her magic wand.
Note: I have joined a writing group that is a bunch of fun! Requirements are that the story has to be exactly 300 words. There are also three required words that the moderator of the group chooses – the very first word of the story and two others. I’ll put those words in bold. Enjoy!