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)
Absolutely beautiful. So sorry for your loss.
oh, Tara.
I'm so sorry for your loss.
I'm at a loss of what to say, other than, how beautiful that because of you we can know this beautiful woman who is your grandmother. She means something to me now too.
Thank you for sharing, even amidst your pain.
I hope you continue to find comfort.
I'm so sorry for your loss. I have never had a grandma but I have often thought about what that relationship would be like. I've no doubt any grandma would be thrilled to be spoken of the way you speak of your grandma. I will say a prayer for you and yours.
So happy to see you back in this space. I've been thinking of you so often. These words, those images - it's all so perfect. What a wonderful tribute to your grandmother. I look forward to reading more about her in the future. And what a beautiful nod to such a stunning book.
Stopped in to pay my condolences too... so sorry to hear of your loss. Not only of your grandmother's tangible presence, but all the intangible things. Peace.
This post made me sad. For you. For me. I still have my Oma. In three months, she'll be 100. She's nearly lived forever in my mind and I take that for granted because I know each day now, more than ever, really is a gift. I will feel at a loss when she goes and I never ran to her bed when I had nightmares, so I can only imagine how you must be feeling. Sending good thoughts your way.
I am so sorry for your loss.
Beautiful, beautiful.
It was our pleasure to offer a place to dip a toe into some semblance of fun. If Grandmother's want one thing in this world, it's to see their smiling grandbabies.
Sorry to hear about your loss. You have shared such a wonderful time with her and that will carry you through.
Tara, so sorry for your loss. This was such a touching post.
I am so so sorry for your loss, Tara. I hope you can find some peace knowing she is in better place.
your writing is eloquent and perfectly captures every single emotion into words .. even a time of such loss, you capture beauty and peace in the your words. wishing you inner peace..
I've been here, too. I'm an orphan now in every sense of the word. No family left behind me, only ahead. Strange to find yourself so as a youth.
I'm hopeful of long life for the rest of us so I can become a grandmother, and be found loved by them dearly. prayers are with you all.
So sorry for your loss. What a beautiful text. Sending you lots of positive energy, and looking forward to following your food inspiration - when you get it back.
nice to "see" you and thank you for sharing. your grandmother sounds like a lovely woman. saying goodbye to—and missing—loved ones is hard. ice cream sandwiches are a great way to feel better, at least for a moment. these look like they might give good feeling for longer, though.
Sorry to hear about your grandmother. It seems cooking really helps you get your mind off things.
a beautiful photo and beautiful words. so sorry for your loss, tara. xo
This is one of my favorite recipes from the Sprouted Kitchen cookbook. And yes, they are a very talented couple and the success they're experiencing right is totally deserved!
Sorry for you lost. Grandmas always keep an extra special space in our heart. Remember all the beautiful things she gave you in life and use that joy to keep baking delicious sweets. Thanks for sharing this recipe.
So sorry for your loss. This is a beautiful post and I feel like I can imagine the kind of person that your Grandmother was
I'm so sorry for your loss.
I lost my grandmother too last year. She was very dear to me and I miss her so.
Thank you for sharing with a lovely post.
Anna
Dear Tara, i'm very sorry for your family's loss.
Oh, Tara,
What a beautiful tribute to your grandmother. So eloquently expressed, as always. You're in my prayers.
(((hugs))) A beautiful post.
I am so sorry to hear of your grandma's passing. Reading this has me remembering the raw feelings I had the day my mother's mother passed away. Even though you say you will find a way to paint a better picture of her, I think you've done marvelously here. I can imagine, and had to smile when I heard my own mother reminding us about ruining our appetites. She still does to this day, and at my age, it's completely ridiculous. Best to you as you work through it all over time -- these treats are something to think about...