I want our daughters to have more than they have time to tell. I hope for stories of home that brings comfort to their souls. Not only that, I wish for our stories to be so powerful they inspire new stories to be told with their own lives. Memories inspiring memories.
One way I have decided to create these impressionable moments is with food. Homemade food. At the New Year, I set a goal to make one new food or meal a week. So far, I may have missed one week. Pretty good for a beginner. In this 3 month trial time, my goal has expanded to include my daughters, Kirra and Mya. I want them to prepare every new dish with me.
I told Kirra about my idea yesterday while she was watching Disney’s Frozen. If you haven’t seen the movie, what I am about to say is not a spoiler. If you have seen one, you have seen them all. One or more of the parents must die. In this case, both parents are lost at sea. Zoning in and out of the movie while processing my idea, Kirra has this thought: “Yea, Daddy, if you teach me how to cook, then I will know how to take care of Mya if mommy and you die.” Morbid, and sweet at the same time. She was in.
That very same day we planned our first meal together: Annettes Enchilada’s (I discovered the recipe when reading Shauna Niequist’s book Bread & Wine: A Love Letter to Life Around the Table with Recipes). Let’s just say it required alot of cutting raw chicken, which Kirra was eager to do. I taught her how to hold a knife correctly while I handled the chicken. Slowly (and I mean slowly), Kirra cut every single piece. Two pounds worth.
I taught her to wash her hands after touching anything raw. I taught her how to use a can opener, which according to her requires a strong person. Luckily, she is strong. I taught her to carefully clean and throw out an aluminum can. I taught her how to mix the ingredients. I taught her how to dip tortillas in hot chicken broth with tongs and place it in glass pan. I taught her how to warm cooking oil and preheat an oven. She did it all.
When all was said and done, she asked me with a proud smile on her face, “Daddy, when is the next meal. Do I get to help you with it too.” My heart was full of joy. “Yes, Kirra,” I said, “you can help me with every meal you if you would like.”
Our first memory is made. The first of many. As far as food is concerned, I can only imagine what dishes and desserts will be in our future. Looking forward to it.
How do you make memories with those you love?