beyond magzine sept 2016

When the memory of a dish haunts you and you can’t find
anyone to make it for you. When the memorabilia of
grandmother, aunt or uncle who made it for you is so
blissful and you feel like you can reach out and touch them
through the food they created with so much love and
affection, but you haven’t’ got a clue as to how to make it.
I come from Louisiana where food is pretty much the top of
the priority list in day to day living. There are so many
memories in my head that evolve around food and to try
to find them, to make them happen the way I
remembered them, often calls for a little reaching, begging,
prodding and finally, I simply must channel the brilliance of
my relatives cooking genius to discover just how they made
that special food.
In this issue I’m channeling my grandmother, who was
Hispanic and made the most wonderful tamale pies. When
I was pregnant for my son, I thought if I asked nicely, my
mother would make me one, she not only denied my
request, but she would not even try to give me the recipe.
Once I got home I asked the only one I knew to help me