In memory of Grandma:
People often ask me why I’m a pastry chef…It’s possible I don’t fit the “Martha Stewart” stereo type: I’m covered in tattoos, I spend more time in the gym than in the kitchen and I’m just as happy to fight you as I am to bake a batch of cupcakes. But, when they ask, I tell them all the same thing: I tell them about a little red summer cottage in Olfsbo, a story of a garden filled with fruit trees and berry bushes – and about Grandma.
While she never knew it, much of my cooking today reflects my memories of Grandma. I remember standing with her in the garden while she told me what berries I could eat, and which weren’t quite ready yet… I’m pretty sure this got lost in translation…or maybe I just wasn’t a good listener because I remember intense bitter & sour flavours, which I imagine was from eating something terribly underripe, ha! I remember being fascinated with her pantry and all the fruit preserves & cordials I found there.
Any good chef will tell you that cooking is more than filling a stomach with food. This is truer in the case of the pastry chef since his dish arrives after the other courses of a meal when most customers are already full. Instead, connecting the customer to a feeling through your cooking – possibly through creating a new experience, but mostly by re-engaging feelings already within memory - is the chefs higher pursuit.
As a particularly good-looking girl told me the other day - when I was jokingly telling her that eating my pastry was probably contributing to her future fat self– No she insisted; “I believe you bake joy!” And, while I’m sure that she was just high on sugar, I have seen this phenomenon time and again: food makes people enjoy good times & remember them as well. And, for every pie I bake, donut or jam I make, I remember my Grandma. And, I’m pleased that the few memories I have of her can translate through my cooking to people, who in turn create their own moments of joy to be remembered.
I appreciate the memories I have of you Grandma. Thank you.
Kiss & Kram,
Phoenix
Farmor, jag har aldrig sett dig annat än glad. Det är så jag kommer att minnas dig. Tack för att just Du har funnits, och utan dig hade inte vi (släkt) funnits. Du lever vidare genom oss i generationer. På bilden, en del av oss. Vila i frid farmor.
Kära Mor och Svärmor, Tack för allt och vila i frid.
Vi älskar dig, din son Per och Helena.
"Jesus sade till henne: Jag är uppståndelsen och livet.
Den som tror på Mig, han skall leva, om han än dör;"
Joh. 11:25
Tack för allt farmor. Vila i frid. ❤
Om jag än vandrar i dödsskuggans dal,
fruktar jag intet ont, ty du är med mig.
Psalm 23:4
Jag kommer att sakna dig tills vi möts igen.
Jag älskar dig.
//Henrik
Jag och farmor julen-17. Jag älskar dig och kommer alltid komma ihåg ditt glada skratt. Du kommer alltid vara en stor inspiration för mig! Vila i frid ❤️