Today I've been thinking about memories. How we choose the ones we want to keep and why we discard most events without a second thought. How the passage of time tends to change our recollection of events into what we wish they were as opposed to historical record.
I've been thinking about how food fits into to this. How we remember people we've lost by preparing certain dishes. How we might avoid making things that were their favorites. I just finished glazing the rum cake my mother would make each Christmas but to make anything with lemon curd, her favorite, would break my heart.
My grandma lives in a very nice nursing home and we went to visit today. I brought her a little container of the chocolate peanut butter krispies she used to make every holiday. My grandma has dementia. She was confused about where she was living and the room she was in but was pleasant and seemed to enjoy the visit. She didn't know who I was, or my son or husband.
The krispies are sitting on her side table in a transparent container so she can see the contents. I hope the lid will be easy to open for someone with terrible arthritis. I fully accept that she immediately forgot they were there and so probably won't eat any of them.
They're made of just three ingredients: a bag of chocolate chips, 1/2 C peanut butter and about half a box of rice krispies. They're simple and delicious and these treats somehow became symbols to me of the love that I felt in that house.
So I make them and the rum cake every year. It would seem like a way to remember my loved ones when the truth is there is not a day that goes by that I don't think of them.