I wanted to go back
Tuesday, August 21, 2012 at 9:00AM 
I haven't known how to come back here, or exactly what to write. I'll apologize first and foremost; I'd not intended to be gone so long. There really is no easy introduction to this explanation, as the reason I've been quiet is that we lost my grandmother. My Mum's mum.
She and I were close. She was sharp, and encouraging, and a talent in the kitchen. When my brother and I were growing up, she lived with us sometimes, a steadfast influence always. We were fortunate to have had her as long as we did. I was granted the grace of sharing her last days.
She was a teacher who liked crossword puzzles, and apples in her salad. She would tell us not to drink our juice too fast at dinner, or we'd ruin our appetites. She made a habit of the library. I remember the day she took her hair, which was long and dark and worn in a low bun at the base of her neck, and had it cut into a short bob, set in curls. I thought she looked like the queen of England.
Still beautiful, only different.
A few days ago, caught up in the busy-mindedness that happens when we potter about with efficient industry, I was checking off items on the running to-do list in my head when I reminded myself; "It's Sunday, I should call Grandma."
No. She's gone. And with the realization, the air left of the room.
It seems that close, that possible, that on the other end of the line she could pick up and I'd hear her voice again. At some point soon, I hope to be able to do her justice, to come close to explaining who she was, and how much she meant to us.
I'll tell you about the dinner we held in her honour; of all that was made, of those who celebrated together and the stories that were told. I'll be sure to describe the photographs and the music.
I'm not there yet. But I look forward to it.
Until then, here's some of what I said that afternoon:
When I think of Grandma, I think of someone who liked things done a certain way, who had particular tastes, and who wasn’t afraid to let her mind be known. I think of a woman with faith. I think of a woman with strong opinions and the conviction to stand by them. I think of someone who put up with me running to jump in her bed, every time I had a nightmare. I think of a woman who was stubborn, so much so that it feels surreal to stand here without her. I think of independence and strength, a strength that lasted all her days, a strength that serves as fine example for the times ahead.
I think of a woman to whom we are forever grateful, to whom we are forever indebted; one who we love dearly, and whose legacy continues in all those gathered.
She will be truly missed.
During my grandmother's decline and passing, food was a tricky thing. It was full of complications and, paradoxically, spontaneous joys. I became prickly about the subject, finding it difficult to talk about cooking and meals and all those things she enjoyed, and we enjoyed together. Having children to feed kept me in the kitchen. The boys had begun to understand what was happening, and so I made her recipes. They called her Gigi.
A little while after we said goodbye to Grandma, we accepted an invitation from dear, darling Jason and Jeff to spend a weekend at their cottage with a bunch of pals. It felt strange, and almost heavy, to be packing up and getting excited again. Someone told me it was "just the thing to do. A change is what you need." They were right.
That group that descended upon Muskoka was one of the finest contingents of individuals we could ever be lucky enough to know; in the end, my stomach hurt from laughing. Goodbye hugs on the dock felt like the last day of camp. The next day, I wanted to go back.
At first the trip had felt half an adventure, half as though I was leaving things behind. But as time passed, it seemed less like moving away from recent days, and more that I was heading in a direction of this new normal, one I'm not wholly ready for, but where I need to go. To a place that's still beautiful, only different.
Those friends set me on my way.
Beyond the fun and games and meteor showers, we'd had meals together, shared in the making and the eating, family-style, tight around the table. It felt comfortable, good. I don't think I can ever fully repay them for the difference they made. I will try, though.
I might begin with lifetime supply of ice cream sandwiches. If that's agreed, then these are most certainly the ones where I'll start. The cookie is crumbly, yet densely, unmistakably full of peanut butter, craggy with dark chocolate and gritty bits of oatmeal. They're alternately squishy and substantial, and make the ideal base for an a scoop of ice cream. What's even better is where I got the recipe.
My friend Sara wrote a book, and her husband Hugh took the pictures. It's called The Sprouted Kitchen (Ten Speed Press, 2012), after the website they've built together over the last three years. You probably know all about them, since they've done a cracking good job of making a name for themselves already. Nonetheless, I'll say the collaboration between the two of them is one of the most striking I know; I remember the first time I saw their work, I asked myself "now, where did this come from?" It was too lovely, too fully-realized, a package of pretty, all tied up.
The book is the very much more of same, with 100 of Sara's best recipes, including Lentil Meatballs in Lemon Pesto (zesty and punchy), Quinoa Collard Wraps with Miso-Carrot Spread (vibrant with colour), and Baked Artichoke Dip (addicting).
In Sara you'll find an earnest cook who wants to feed people healthfully, with whole foods, conscientious choices, and meals full of personality. Her recipes are gorgeous, and Hugh captures them deftly; he's got an artful way with detail, that one. They should be proud.
As a bonus, the pair of them are too stinkin' cute for words.
I'm glad to share their excitement, and for the opportunity to express my gratitude to those who have been keeping me company. I'm glad to be back here, too.
Grandma, we know that you are home. I wore your earrings one day and my hair was up, and Mum said I looked like you. I can't imagine words that could have meant more. Thank you for everything.
Oatmeal Ice Cream Sandwiches
From The Sprouted Kitchen: A Tastier Take on Whole Foods (Ten Speed Press, 2012).
Sara says: Making this recipe requires a little bit of time, since you'll have to wait for some of the ingredients to chill, but once they are made, they'll keep in the freezer for up to a month, so you'll have an ice cream sandwich whenever you please. It's such a special treat to have these waiting in the freezer when someone pops over. The cookies are pretty tender, so I freeze them before I put the ice cream between. They never get rock hard in the freezer, so even on the first bite you can enjoy them without hurting your teeth.
I find that a thinner, more fluid natural peanut butter, such as Laura Scudder's Organic Smooth Peanut Butter, works best. You can purchase oat flour, but I love the convenience of making it myself, and the texture of homemade oat flour is quite lovely. To yield the amount you need for this recipe, pulse about 1 1/4 cups old-fashioned rolled oats in a food processor until it looks like a coarse flour.
Ingredients
1/2 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature
1/4 cup dark muscovado sugar
1/4 cup natural cane sugar
1 egg
2 tablespoons honey
1 cup creamy natural peanut butter
1 1/3 cups oat flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1 cup semisweet chocolate chips, coarsely chopped
2 quarts premium vanilla bean ice cream, see note
1 cup chopped roasted peanuts, for garnish (optional)
With an electric mixer, cream the butter and sugars together until fluffy. Add the egg, honey, and peanut butter and mix until well combined. In a large mixing bowl, combine the oat flour, baking soda, salt, and chocolate chips. Add the wet ingredients to the dry and stir until just combined. Chill in the fridge for at least 1 hour.
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.
Roll the dough into 1 1/2-inch balls and place them on a baking sheet 2 inches apart, using a second baking sheet as necessary. You should have about 30 cookies. Bake, rotating the trays halfway through, until the outer edges turn golden, 8 to 10 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack and let cool. Once cooled, transfer to plates and chill in the freezer for at least 20 minutes.
Remove the ice cream from the freezer and let soften for a few minutes. Using and ice cream scoop, place one scoop of ice cream on the bottom of a cookie and top it with another cookie. Gently press down and smooth the outer edge. Roll the ice cream edge in the peanuts, pressing them to adhere, and place the sandwich back on one of the plates in the freezer. Repeat. Once fully frozen, after 20 to 30 minutes, wrap tightly in plastic wrap or parchment paper. They will keep in the freezer for up to a month.
Notes:
- I used a 2-inch scoop to portion the dough and ended up with 18 cookies, making 9 sandwiches. They baked for about 10 to 12 minutes.
- Instead of vanilla bean ice cream, I used the Crème Fraîche Ice Cream from Sweet Cream and Sugar Cones (Ten Speed Press, 2012), the exceptional new book from Bi-Rite Creamery. I left the lemon out of the recipe, adding vanilla bean, and substituting half the granulated sugar for turbinado. We made brown sugar crème fraîche at the cottage to serve with crumbles, and I'm still thinking about it. The tangy finish of the ice cream works really well with the richness of the oatmeal cookies; I'm sure a sour cream or buttermilk ice cream would also be very nice.
*******
My wholehearted congratulations to Sara and Hugh on The Sprouted Kitchen, and its release on August 28, 2012. If you can't wait to see it for yourself, I've got some great news! Ten Speed Press has generously offered a peek into the book, with the complete table of contents and a 10-recipe sampler. You'll want to bookmark that page.
Reader Comments (55)
Such beautiful words Tara. I'm am so very sorry for your loss.
As a side note I have to totally agree with you... Sara and Hugh are such a talented couple, can't wait to get a copy of their book for myself.
Take care, xx
Tara. Is it possible that your writing is getting better and better? I think so. This post is perfect. And those last lines will stay with me for the rest of the day, at least. That feeling of wanting to pick up the phone when we forget for a moment, I know it well. On Sunday, I drove to Connecticut for my cousin's wedding shower, and the thought crossed my mind that my grandmother would be there, and that it would be so good to see her, and hadn't it been a long time? She died nine years ago in June, but I swear, this kind of thing still happens to me all the time. It used to upset me terribly; now, though I did tear up behind the wheel, I also find comfort in these moments. Love what you wrote about Sara and Hugh and their work that, you're right, did seem to spring fully formed into the world. You know, I've never had great luck with homemade ice cream sandwiches. I have a feeling this is about to change. Much love to you, friend.
tara, so sorry for your loss - sending you comforting thoughts and condolences. we also just had a death in the family and it's been one of those times - when pen to paper just doesn't cut it. at the funeral, the rabbi said something that struck me as incredible... he said that we die two deaths - when or body dies; and when our story dies. I hope you tell us more of your grandmother in these pages. I, for one, would love to learn more. xx, o
Oh Tara, I'd love to give you a big hug. So sorry for your loss. I never got to really know my grandmothers - one died the month before I was born and the one I knew throughout my childhood died when I was twelve. At the time, I had very wrongly assumed that grandmothers meant obligation, but as an adult I look back fondly to all the summers we had hanging out in her Quebec cottage, picking raspberries and making pie. Your stories and memories will help you along and sharing them with your boys will help to create something new. This is such a gorgeous post - I agree with Jess that your writing is only becoming stronger and more potent and I while I've never had much success with ice cream sandwiches, I'll be trying these before summer disappears.
I'm sorry for your loss, Tara. I sort of feel like that's an inadequate thing to say. I only ever knew one grandparent and she passed when I was younger. I've never experienced a loss such as yours; the loss of someone so significant. How wonderful it is for you that you have such a great support system to help you move through and move on. Keeping you in my thoughts and sending much love your way.
moments, memories are precious. sorry for the loss. gorgeous post filled with feelings.TC
xoxo
I'm so very sorry for your loss. These words are so insignificant at such a time, although unfortunately there's not much more that can be said. Your words are so beautiful and full of love. I was lucky enough to have a grandma who I adored with every fiber of my being, too. We lost my grandma over 10 years ago and my mom just this past February. I'll tell you, that feeling you described, of wanting to call your grandma, I know it. But, I think it's how it should be. Several friends shared this quote with me after losing my mom. It brought me tears, first, and later, some peace.
“You will lose someone you can’t live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.”
- Ann Lamott
i´m so sorry for your loss! my grandmother died last december, within a week and while sitting with her in this time food was so essential and i took such comfort in preparing it for the whole family. somehow it made the whole good bye days so much more bearable.
i´ve realized she lives on in my heart, i can hear her voice, her opinion on things - she´s not gone completely - your grandmother will live on with you, too.
all the best to you and your family!
what a tribute. she sounds like an incredible woman. my grandma is distinctive in her own way, just like yours. I haven't lost her yet, but your words reminded me to soak up more time with her, as I know I take it for granted. I am so sorry for your loss, and hope that fun memories and special things about her can warm your heart a bit in this time. Love that quote from Anne Lamott above - sorry for your heart break, dear Tara.
On another note, thank you. Your sincere words filled me up, thank you for that.
condoglianze, thank you for sharing the memory of your special nonna with us
Tara, I'm so sorry for your loss. I'll be thinking of you, and we'll all welcome you back when you're ready.
Extremely sorry for you lass, Tara. Grandmothers are such wonderful people.....I lost mine too a few months back. I can relate to the feelings you are going through now...even I have a strong urge to call her on Sundays, only to remember that she is not there to pick up the phone. Hold on to the memories ....it works the best.
So sorry for your loss. I miss my Gram like that too. She influenced how I bake and garden. I make things thinking specifically of her. Grandmothers are a precious precious gift and the world is better because of them.
These are so cute and look delicious!
Your grandmother sounds like a marvelous lady, Tara. I'm sorry for your loss. I keep a picture of my grandmother on my fridge and wear her watch when I'm feeling sentimental. We're so lucky to have had such great grandmothers. Sara and Hugh's book is really exceptional, I want to make everything... starting with these ice cream sandwiches.
Im so sorry for your loss.
These are so beyond cute! I'll have to give them a try, they look scrumptious!
I was wondering where you'd gotten to. Thanks for this beautiful post and update. Your grandmother may be gone, but it sounds like she will remain forever in beloved hearts and minds.
oh, tara. i'm so sorry for your loss, i'll be sending warm thoughts your way. this entry was beautiful.
So sorry for your loss, Tara. xo
So sorry for your loss, Tara. I hope you find happier days ahead.
Tara, i'm so sorry for your family's loss. It can seem overwhelming and threatens to drown but it's clear you're remembering her with fondness and these words you've written here will always serve as a memory for you and your boys. Take all the time you need. We'll all still be here when you get back.
What a lovely, lovely tribute to your grandmother, Tara. It is a good reminder to take the time to reach out to loved ones, especially those older folks, as you never know just how much time you have left with them. My grandmother, whom we lost a little over a year ago, had a wicked sweet tooth. I feel like our grandmas would both appreciate these cookies.
This was such a touching post. It's a wonderful tribute to someone who sounds like a very special lady. And I'm sorry to hear of the loss. My paternal grandmother passed away when I was 10. I have such fond memories of her chicken soup with matzo balls. And the smells of her Bronx apartment. My maternal grandmother died almost 10 years ago (a week before I met my future husband). I remember her soft hands and her thumbs-- and the way she used to wash us up before meal time. She loved to talk and loved to cook. And she loved us so. The memories of these special women live on when we share their stories. I think of my grandmothers often, especially now that I have two young boys of my own. I think they would be proud, as I'm sure your grandmother was of you. Grandmothers are special. May you be comforted during this difficult time.
thank you for this. I am so sorry. both of mine are gone now and i miss them sorely. i was raised to be a grandson, and when that was done i was so bereft. your words situated me in my memories of both my grandmothers, meaning that while i was sad about your grandmother, i smiled as i remembered the influence mine had on me