Pizzelle cookies, an Italian classic
She loved to find a good bargain while shopping. She was a relentless coupon clipper. My favorite of her finds was a pair of pink jeans that I loved when I was a kid. She bought them for me for $0.99 and I remember how brightly she smiled at that price tag. I think my sister, Weez, got a pair, too, though that detail is more fuzzy in my mind than Grammy’s smile. She would turn 92 today.
There are also certain foods that I always associate with her. She was a simple cook, though there are unmistakable flavors that always remind me of her. Finely chopped carrots and green peppers in meatballs, an apple cake that was my favorite, cheese ravioli, blueberry muffins, Salada tea with sugar and milk, and pizzelle cookies that her friend, Theresa, always used to make when she knew my mom and her gaggle of kids would be visiting.
I was wandering through Whole Foods this weekend doing my weekly shopping. They had a huge display of pizzelle cookies. They weren’t as beautiful as the ones I remember from Grammy’s house, though they were available in a bunch of different flavors, which I thought Grammy would have gotten a kick out of. Then I turned over the package and saw the $4.99 price. I’m sure Grammy would have been disgusted to see such a high price. I bought them any way.
As I rounded the corner with the pizzelles in hand, I could have sworn I felt a small tap on my shoulder. I turned around but no one was there. No one was physically there any way, but I felt a very warm glow and my eyes started to tear up. I’d like to think she was there with me, right next to me winding through the aisles as I filled up my cart. I made sure everything else I put into my cart was indeed a bargain by her standards.
It’s funny what food can do. How it can sneak its way into your heart through your taste buds; how it can help you keep a warm and happy memory alive even when it’s pouring buckets of rain outside; how it can bring someone to your dinner table even though she hasn’t been with you for so many years. I went home, had one of my too-expensive pizzelle cookies, a cup of tea, and tossed up a prayer of gratitude for the opportunity to have had someone in my life as special as my Grammy.
Christa,
You have a way with words: at heart, you are a poet for sure.
I read your post till the end and I had tears in my eyes. What a moving tribute to your Grammy: oh, she must have loved you so much, and what a special friendship you both shared.
If it is any comfort, let me just say that those who are near and dear to us love us still even though they may not be with us in the physical sense. They are still with us in spirit.
And that tap on your shoulder? I bet it was your Grammy, reminding you how much she still loves you, and that she is still looking out for you, and looking over your shoulder.
After all, grandparents share a special bond with their grand-children that even mom and dad can’t figure out exactly.
You know what? You are such a talented writer. I don’t cry that easily, but you cast a spell over me via your writing.
Cheers to your life. Wish you a long and fruitful life, as always.
[...] Sunday, May 15th I had an odd experience in Whole Foods in which I could feel my grandmother very nearby. Later on that day, I went home and began writing down how my own yoga-based business would take [...]