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Stories

Eat, Darling, Eat is a storytelling website about mother/daughter relationships, centered around something that is fundamental and fun, evocative and provocative, shared across all cultures and generations: food. Some stories are warm tributes to beloved women; others are about more complicated family dynamics. Some are hilarious, some heartwarming, some heartbreaking.

 

Come back often to enjoy the delicious words and recipes. Fair warning: We often hear that EDE can be addictive, that people get lost in the stories.

 

AND PLEASE TELL US YOURS. We know that you have one, and we want to share it because your memories and experiences matter. Become part of the rich tapestry here, and get in touch to submit your own original story:

info@EatDarlingEat.net.

   
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NOLA Proclamation

Zestful Aging

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January 23, 2020

When I was a kid, my grandmother, Ethel, lived with us during the summer months. She moved to Miami Beach from New Jersey when she was in her 70s but stayed with us from Passover (in the spring) until the Jewish high holidays (autumn), both to avoid the heat and to spend time with her family. My mom, Sandi, was the youngest of her three daughters,...

January 20, 2020

Starting when she was born and flourishing ever since, I strove to develop a bond with my daughter that could not be easily broken. The bond was there when Destiny brought home pictures she made in school, and I responded with affirmations; when she learned to ride her bike and needed a Band-Aid on her knee; when she was a Girl Scout selling cookie...

January 17, 2020

I’ve gone through many different body shapes in my life. Even when I was as thin as I felt society pressured me to be, I wasn’t the perfect shape my mother wanted me to be. But her idea of that “perfect” shape would change, both for her and for me. Her words mirrored her mood or perceptions at any given time.

When I was 16, she took me to a doctor b...

January 14, 2020

New Year’s Eve, 1983. A warm ranch house in suburban Buffalo. Outside, the usual ice and snow of a Western New York winter. Frankie turns to me and says, “Ready?”

This is my first time as a bringing-you-home-to-meet-my-parents girlfriend. Previous beaus were more drive-by in nature when it came to the mom and dad thing. A child of the ‘70s, I was a...

January 9, 2020

In middle and high school, I used to fall ill, and this is not a metaphor. My body collapsed, as if a puppeteer had suddenly abandoned the strings. I spent months lolling in my parents’ bed, watching movies and sleeping. My room didn’t have a TV or my favorite music box, the one with the ballerinas, stiff-skirted and precise. When I needed to go to...

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