Some people are born knowing their way around the kitchen- I was not one of those people. I had to be taught the difference between a bread knife and a butter knife (true story), and I’ve burned more things than I’d like to admit (easy mac isn’t as easy as you’d think). But despite all those messes, I found something beautiful: time with my Nana.
She was the one who taught me how to stir dry and wet ingredients together without turning the bowl into an explosion of flour. With her, recipes became more than just food- they were lessons wrapped in laughter. We had our classics: stuffed pasta that took all afternoon but was worth every cheesy bite, and pumpkin squares with cinnamon frosting that tasted like autumn itself. And of course, her buttercream frosting. To this day, no one-absolutely no one- can quite nail it the way she did. I’ve tried, others have tried, but hers had that magic touch that only Nana seemed to know.
She also taught me one of life’s greatest lessons: calories don’t count when you’re “just taste testing”. And believe me, we did a lot of taste testing.
When I step into the kitchen now, I don’t just see recipes; I see memories. I hear her voice reminding me to slow down, to stir gently, to laugh when I spill, and to keep going anyway. Cooking might not come naturally for me, but it does have a way of making me feel closer to her since she passed in 2023.
So maybe my cakes lean a little sideways, maybe my frosting isn’t as smooth, but every spoonful carries a bit of Nana’s love. And honestly, that tastes better than perfect ever could.
And maybe that’s the heart of it all- recipes fade, frosting never comes out quite the same, but the love we shared in the kitchen will always linger, like the sweetest aftertaste.
So, here’s to my Nana, this week’s Apple Cider Cupcakes are for you!
