Even great marriages (ones filled with good? communication) can have new revelations and surprises. After thirty wonderful years of marriage, this year, in a Facebook 'confession', I learned that my life partner is a theif! I'm not sure when it started (typical male), but at some time in our marriage, rather than getting tasty morsels, boxed like they were competing in an egg drop contest (annual gift from my mother-in-law) they also started emanating from our oven. For some odd decades, I thought she asked her mom for the recipe and started making them herself, and that is why the packages ceased. But no!
Every Christmas we have had Nut Cups...and now I am going to be the thief (she can sue me if she wants...isn't that like her forging my signature on backs of checks?...I certainly wouldn't press charges). So, since she claims she has no time to blog, I am going to post it here as evidence of my sweet accusation. Let the trial begin!
"Some recipes have names that take you back to a feel good place, like Toll House cookies. In reality they are just (just?) chocolate chip cookies, but they take you back to a warm New England inn when you say Toll House cookies. My mom liked more simple names that described just what you were getting. This principle was applied to one of my favorite Christmas traditions. No “Mini Nut Tarts” or “Pecan Tassies for her; “Nut Cups” was the name she preferred for this treat. Even though the name is simple, it still takes me back to a feel good place.
When I was in college I would receive a package about a week after Thanksgiving (I did not go home for Thanksgiving since I went to school in southern California and it was too costly to fly home for a few days). I would think, “Oooo! I hope that it’s Nut Cups!” as I carried the package carefully to my dorm. I am not sure why I needed to carry them carefully as they had just been handled by the US Postal Service over 2500 miles. Not to mention that mom always wrapped them individually and placed them in foam peanuts to ensure safe delivery. (She would win the egg drop contest hands down.) As I carefully removed the tape from the box I was dreaming of the crispy crust and pecan or walnut filling. Mmmmm! I was never disappointed.
Even after I was married, Mom would still send them to my family at about the same time one week after Thanksgiving; wrapped the same way. This went on for years. Finally Mom let me have the recipe! Now that I think about it, I don’t think she actually ever gave it to me. I was browsing her Joy of Cooking book when I went to visit one summer and I found the recipe written on the inside cover. I am sure that she wanted me to copy it so that the recipe could be passed down. Right? Obviously she did not know that I had it because she continued to send them to us until she couldn’t get out to the post office anymore.
The secret is going to be out this week. As I was writing this I thought that MAYBE my mom would like to receive some Nut Cups in the mail! So today I took the precious package to the post office to mail the carefully wrapped little treats. I hope that she will be brought back to the feel good place, as I was, when she sent them to me."
So, there you have it. I never thought I'd ever hear that my lovely bride is a thief! And even more surprising is my response. If you would have produced evidence proving my sweet Carrie's crooked ways, my heart should have shattered like a Ming vase crashing onto a porcelain floor. Instead, it rises as the sweetest testimony to another great lady I love and cherish, Marion Owens, and yes, she is my precious mother-in-law.
Every year we get and give gifts. This year, I am overwhelmed by the most precious gifts of all, the ones costing so little, finding direct connection to our hearts (and stomachs!!!), and 'the rest of the story' behind them. Our kitchen has been blessed. Blessed to have a wonderful baker, my girl, shuffling around the appliances (my investment in her ability to produce with great ease) her sweet love, just as her mom and friend did. As the years increase "the feel good place" my sweet baker speaks of becomes sweeter and sweeter, more valuable and precious than any other gift I could hold. For not only do I get to hold and eat the treats of tradition. I get to hold the baker as well. I get to look into her eyes and hug her, the act dusting me with flour and residue adhering to her apron springing from all her various tools and contraptions. As I do, and consume, I receive doses of love from all the kitchens that enter ours. Rising thankfulness blooms in my heart. Blessed to enjoy sweet, wonderful treats of tradition.
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