Music might be the language of the gods, but food is the universal language of humankind.
We meet over food. Fall in love. Party, and grieve with food. Our first connection with other humans involved nourishment. It’s no wonder we gravitate toward the kitchen in our house. I’ll be standing at the stove when guests arrive, and as comfy as I try to make the other places in our home, everyone still wants to gather in the kitchen.
Sunday night I sat at our large round dining table with our grown children after family dinner. Little ones chased each other in and out of various doorways, dishes clanged in the sink as Gumpa loaded the dishwasher for the first round. The kids and their teenagers who were there started discussing their favorite family meals: Chicken in a Pot, Baked Chicken, String Beef (Pot Roast), Chop Suey…. They called out their favorites like cheerleaders. Then they moved to the Sunday treats, and holiday fare. That’s where this book began, flawed as it is in my hectic life right now. Perhaps no one but us will ever use any of it. That’s fine with me, because I am preserving for my tribe the recipes of their past. Take, if you’d like, whatever portion you want. There’s plenty. ` Cori
