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Wednesday, April 11, 2012

The Taste of Memory


One of the owners of the cheese/gourmet food shop where I worked last year says: “Food is memory.” Ever since I heard her say it, I’ve loved that phrase, running it over my tongue like a nibble of dense chocolate.

There are few things more right. Favorite foods, prepared a certain way, conjure up memories as real as if we stepped into a time machine and rocketed back to places only we, and those closest to us recall.  I engineer my own trip to the past each Easter, when I prepare the same breakfast my grandmother cooked for my family every Easter morning while we were growing up.

I was not quite two when my father’s father died, and I retain no memory of him.  A few years later Grandma Carens moved within walking distance of our home.  After that, for as far back as I can recall, she joined us for Sunday dinners.  I have no idea if she was a good cook, since by the time she moved near us, she and three of her friends had developed a routine of eating dinner five days a week at Lotties, a linoleum floored,  meat loaf and hot turkey sandwich restaurant. But on Easter, she prepared breakfast.

The empty lot behind Grandma’s looked across to St. Paul’s Church, and we arrived at her house in plenty of time to eat, then fast for an obligatory hour, before cutting across her backyard for late morning Mass.  Stepping in her front door, my younger sister and I headed straight to the dining room.  There, in the middle of a table set with Royal Dalton china holding precisely edged grapefruit halves, two over-sized stuffed bunnies sat back to back, serving as a temporary table display.   After breakfast, the centerpieces belonged to my sister and me.

Every year, Grandma served the same meal: those grapefruit halves decorated with maraschino cherries, pulpy, fresh squeezed orange juice, crisp bacon, grilled sausage, meltingly sweet honey buns warm from the oven, plus scrambled eggs.   But not just any eggs.  

All the lead-up above?  The story here is the eggs.

My grandmother is the only person I have ever known who cooked her scrambled eggs in a bowl resting above a pot of simmering water.  This double-boiler method requires patience, but the results are creamy and luscious with thick, soft curds and an incredibly moist texture.  As far as I am concerned, they elevate something as mundane as everyday scrambled eggs to epicurean status.  I think I read that one of Julia Child’s challenges when learning to cook in France was perfecting scrambled eggs.  Julia should have called my grandmother.  

Grandma died when I was in college, but for as long as I’ve been married, she comes alive again for me each Easter morning when I recreate her annual breakfast.   I stand over the steaming pot of water, scraping the sides of the bowl while the eggs cook, pulling them off when they have reached a sunny yellow, custard-curd texture.  As soon as I taste them, I’m vaulted back to a seat in my grandmother's painted-pink dining room, facing a polished mahogany table, with my family all around me.  My grandmother wears an apron over her church dress.  We use our best manners, savor the silky eggs, and endure the evil eye from mom when she catches us licking honey bun-sticky fingers.  When breakfast is over, my sister and I grab our bunnies and escape to the living room for quiet play time, before we all leave for church.

Back at my own table, I bite into the one edit I’ve made to my grandmother’s breakfast, a cayenne and brown sugar spicy bacon that my daughter adores.  Someday, she’ll have a food memory of her own.

Grace Carens’s Double-boiler Scrambled Eggs

Fill the bottom of a double boiler one-third full of water and heat to a gentle simmer.

Crack two large eggs per person and add one extra egg “for the bowl.”  

For every six eggs, add two tablespoons of whole milk, half and half, or cream. 

Add a pinch of salt and a grind of pepper and beat the eggs until frothy (Grandma used a hand-crank egg beater, I use a whisk).

Butter the inside of the double boiler insert.  Pour in the eggs and rest the bowl above the simmering water.  Be patient.  It will take a while for the eggs to start cooking.  Scrape the bottom and sides of the bowl until they are done to your liking. 

Be forewarned.  There is a reason I only cook these eggs once a year.  Clean-up is a BEAR!  The protein in the cooked eggs adheres to the sides of the bowl like cement.  Scrape as much of the remaining egg off as you can and prepare to soak your dish overnight. 

13 comments:

Old Kitty said...

Well that is truly a novel way of cooking scrambled eggs!! Wow!! Thanks for sharing this memory of your fabulous grandma! I quite like the "extra egg" for the bowl! Like an offering so that the eggs will turn out perfect! Take care
x

mshatch said...

I hadn't heard of this method either and both my mom's are cooks. I'll have to ask. Thanks!

Alex J. Cavanaugh said...

What a wonderful way to remember your grandmother. Don't think I'll try that method though as I predict it will result in mush.

Robin said...

I love this post.... and not because I now know how to make fabulous scrambled eggs, though that is a plus. This is another one that draws you completely in. I was with you all the way. Well done, Liza.

Carol Kilgore said...

I'm not an eggy person, but I love that your grandmother let your Easter bunnies be the centerpiece :)

Great memories!

'Yellow Rose' Jasmine said...

How wonderful that you have retained a little of your grandmothers love through your special Easter breakfast.
Funny, I have a post today that touches on a similar theme. We can share our love in so many ways and passing on the love we felt from another is a beautiful thing, as is your written word of the experience...

The Desert Rocks said...

I think the egg recipe sounds divine. I always like reading interesting recipes and one of the easiest recipes for eggs for a larger group is to pour them onto a large cookie sheet with sides and bake them. Then they cut into squares! Oh don't forget the pam spray!

Robyn Campbell said...

Grandmas are soooo wonderful!!!!!! And your grandma was very special, I can tell.

Mmmm, the eggs sound yummy. I love cracking the extra egg for the bowl. :-)

Mary Sullivan Frasier said...

Oh, Liza! I'm late getting around to blog visits today and we haven't even had dinner yet. Thanks to your incredible description of Easter mornings past and your grandmother's eggs, I am no longer wondering what we're having. ;~) Thank you so much for the recipe and especially for evoking such warm feelings of love, family and tradition with your beautifully written story! ~Mary

Lydia Kang said...

Wow, those eggs sound absolutely divine! I feel like they need to be served with a dollop of sour cream and chives or caviar. mmmmmm.

Bish Denham said...

What a beautiful food memory! I have many such of my own grandmother. And I'm blessed have her cookbook, her mortar and pestle, her cast iron skillet. I use them all the time.

Anne Gallagher said...

And I'm right there with you at the table. My grandmother use to make this hash thing when I was a kid. Try as I might, I can never get the same taste. But as a former chef, you can bet I will try those eggs.

Lynda R Young said...

Food is memory. What a beautiful phrase!