There are days such as this when I am trying my hand at a new recipe and I really miss my grandmother. While roulades and cordon bleus are a smidge different they are one in the same in her book, I am sure, as she would tell me “Shelley, just pound it; brown it; and bake it”. She took years to completely master the art of the perfect cordon bleu (including the non-pork version) and I am totally jealous as she always made cooking/baking look so easy as she did it with such straightforwardness and perfection. I miss calling her up and asking for advice on how to pound out the chicken just right. How do I roll them so that they look restaurant quality and not like some lopsided version of a wannabe? I miss asking her the ration of thickness to baking time and her telling me to, simply, eye it. Like, that is a legit culinary term?!
Other things I miss is seeing a Presidential debate or State of the Union and calling to ask her opinion only for her to scoff at me and state that she does not appreciate the politics of the “Great Orator” but much prefers the simple conversations of politicians that have long since retired. She loved and perpetuated straightforwardness. She spoke her mind. She called a spade a spade.
I miss her and her generation’s attitude and tenacity. They did not give up. They were not easily distracted. When they made a commitment they adhered to it regardless of how difficult the obstacle. I long for that in this world. So easily it seems we can choose a different path; we can change course; we can, merely, change our minds because that is how we feel at the moment
She showed me values. She taught me how to stick to my word regardless of how inconvenient it may prove to be. She instilled tradition and family.
All the while, she initiated roots. These roots are what ground me and help me solidify the right decisions every day. When the course seems treacherous and the path seems ominous it is these roots, which she instilled in me, that help me keep to the straight and narrow.