This week I was saddened to learn that a friend’s mother had passed away. I hadn’t seen this woman in two decades, but she was such a remarkable woman and such a major influence in my life and it got me to thinking about the mark that we leave on people and the influence we have on those around us, sometimes without even realizing it.
I met her and her family when I was in my early 20s and lost touch with them a few years later. But that small space of time changed me in ways that I wouldn’t realize until much, much later. More than any one else in my life, this lady was most responsible for my desire to be a good cook. Watching her start a pot of sauce on a Sunday morning and feed everyone in her house the most delectable treats all day long in addition to the huge sit down dinner of “macaroni” and sauce with the most perfect meatballs you’ve ever seen and chunks of pepperoni that had gently cooked in the sauce all day. We’d eat in stages, “here, taste this” or “here, try that” a small plate of meatballs before she dropped the rest of them in the sauce, crispy on the outside and tender and perfect on the inside, what she did in that kitchen was no less than alchemy; a magical combination of ingredients and techniques combined with her love of family and her love of food. My own home was nothing like this, so while someone else might not have noticed so much, I saw how special it was.
When I first met her, she used to tease me that I might need the recipe for ice cubes – and when I tried to salt the pasta water with a table salt shaker, she laughed so hard that she couldn’t yell at me properly for a good ten minutes. You might think that I’d take offense, but she did it all with such a terrific humor, that you couldn’t help but laugh at yourself right along with her. As an aside, that liberal salting of the water is the secret to a deliciously seasoned pasta dish.
She was short and loud and her children towered over her, something that’s quickly happening to me too and my parenting approach is not unlike hers in that she loved her children beyond measure, but wouldn’t stand for any sort of disrespect, and as much as her children knew that she loved them, she would, without hesitation, put you back in line if you stepped too far out. And that didn’t just apply to her own children, it applied to her children’s friends too. I always felt like I was one of the family when I was there, as much from her kindness as from her admonishments. One felt that if you were in her house, you belonged to her too.
I wonder if she knew just how much she had influenced me and how fond I was of her.
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