"I don't know. When I go there, I will come back and tell you, all right?"
"Okay, Grandma."

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Yesterday, I came home from a challenging and poignant day. I put my pots on the stove and improvised. I thought a lot about why I cook. And why it has grown in importance the older I get. Yes, I love to eat. Yes, I want to pass down my heritage to my children; "yes" to all answers regarding cooking and family and organics and local ...

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I added some oil to my pot. Sliced cabbages and onions and thyme. Threw in a pad of Earth Balance butter for creaminess. Sauteed. Added some wine. Simmered. Added some orange juice. Stood over the stove. Stirred. Added the salmon.

How could I have not realized that I cook to find my grandparents... that I cook to talk to them because I was too little when they were here or they were gone before I was here. I cook to find them and ask them questions.

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When I cook, I am doing something that has been done through the ages. I am connected. And I have many guides, many loves and a wealth of inspiration.