I love to cook. In our house, we bake cookies almost weekly and gift friends and family with homemade treats often. I relish trying out new dinner recipes (praise Pinterest!) and experimenting with different ingredients. This summer, my mom even signed me up for a CSA, or Community Supported Agriculture, program and every week I receive a box of fresh produce grown on local farms. Picking up that box is like opening a present on Christmas morning.

I mention all of this, because it is truly miraculous that I enjoy this particular pastime. The women in my family are not kitchen geniuses (neither are the men, for the record). My mother cooked because she had children to feed. My maternal grandmother didn’t show a lot of flair in the kitchen, either—it was a special day to find a simple lemon Bundt cake decorating the countertop. She was a homemaker, and I suspect she only cooked because that’s what housewives did in those days. Truly, she always had a craving for Tony’s frozen pizza.

That’s not to say that she didn’t whip up some soul-satisfying stuff. She made a delicious chocolate pie topped with perfect meringue for Thanksgiving and Christmas gatherings. I remember her weeknight dinners as fresh food, mostly from the garden. Dinner at Mammaw and Pappaw’s consisted of pan-fried chicken or hamburger steak, mashed potatoes, beans or peas. Sugary peaches from the freezer—not quite thawed—for dessert is still one of my favorites.

I was a young teenager when my grandparents passed away. At the time, learning how to plant a garden or make turnip greens was not on the top of my to-do list—it wasn’t on my list at all. But now, years later, the whole family regrets that we don’t know how to make Mammaw’s jams, jellies and that chocolate pie.

Over the years, my love of eating food developed into a love of making food. While I have many wonderful memories of my grandparents, I don’t believe I ever cooked with my Mammaw. As an adult, I wish I had learned from her. She may not have been a Top Chef, but we treasured those meals all the same.

Now, I cook for my own mother on occasion—I’m slowly repaying her for all of the burnt toast for breakfast (hey, she tried!) and those dinners she lovingly prepared, despite her own admission that she’d rather be eating chips and cheese dip. I help my mother-in-law can purple hull peas from the garden and make strawberry jam from Cabot’s finest berries. One day, I think my future children will have memories of cooking with their Gram.

In honor of Grandparents Day, I hope you’ll make a favorite recipe with your grandchildren. (And for goodness’ sake—write down those beloved recipes!) If you aren’t an unabashed foodie like me, perhaps you can share another hobby with your grandchildren. Whatever you do, do it together and they’ll remember it fondly.

Yellow Scratch Cake Muffins
By Eulah B. Young, my grandmother

  • 1 1/4 cups, plus 2 Tbsp. sifted flour
  • 1 cup sugar
  • 1 tsp. baking powder
  • ½ tsp. salt
  • 1/3 cup butter
  • 2/3 cup, plus 1 tsp. milk
  • 1 tsp. vanilla
  • 1 egg

• Mix dry ingredients. Add softened butter, milk, vanilla and egg.

• Spoon into muffin pan. Bake at 350 degrees for 15-18 minutes or until cooked through.