Pizzelles
Many of my favorite memories include cooking with my grandmother. She was hilarious and smart, kind and beautiful, resourceful and patient, and I loved her beyond measure. We laughed and cried and cooked together, we made fun of life, we enjoyed the quiet moments together, and we truly enjoyed each other's company. She lived an amazing 101 years on this planet, and I was lucky enough to be part of that and to have a relationship with her for so long. I am grateful I got to say goodbye to her, and I know she was ready to go, but my heart will always have an empty spot in it where she lives on through me.
Her old pizzelle iron is one of my favorite possessions. Each time I feel like I want to connect with her, I pull it out and make these small, flat, round, delicate, ornate cookies, and they bring me back to her kitchen, where we would laugh at ourselves when we couldn't get the temperature just right, or maybe we burnt a few because we weren't paying close enough attention to the time as it went by.
We took our taste testing very seriously, and mostly, we enjoyed the experience of making something together. I would watch the way she gracefully and meticulously prepared and measured and spooned out ingredients as she spoke, and how she would toss into her stories all the funny incidents within all of the hardships.she was a wonderful storyteller.
My little grandma. Full of life, full of love and my safe place to land. Resilient, innocent, graceful, unconditional, Mary.
