Eat, Darling, Eat 

(by Suzanne Turner) It’s your birthday if you have a cake with a candle in it. Everything else—the cards, presents, well-wishes, Facebook greetings—all of th...

(by Andrea Santo Felcone) If you were to peer inside my mother’s refrigerator, you might grow concerned. In that largely hollow expanse, you’d find a light b...

(by M.T. Rose) “Mommy, you’re a good cooker!” These are the earliest words I can remember, said with honest praise while watching my mother in the kitchen of...

(by Jae Jung) Every Asian kid says that her mom is a tiger mom, but my mom is a super tiger mom. Not only was she born in the year of the tiger, but her way ...

(by Erin Roach) Culinary skills are not always genetic. My grandmother was effortless. Kathryn could master several dishes at once, cooking each without a re...

(by Chandini Prakash) My mother is an alchemist, if I can say that about someone who knows how to create amazingly flavorful food, with her own ways of mixin...

(by Haley Coopersmith) A few years ago, I needed a family recipe for a workshop I was leading—a cross-continental digital art class between students in the B...

(by Mahogany Reynolds) Losing my mom five years ago was the hardest experience of my adult life. We had a rather unique relationship, filled with both joy an...

(by Cherie Kephart) When I was growing up in sunny West Los Angeles, one of the best days in my house was Sauce Day. The recipe for the marinara or meat sauc...

(by Fiona Winch) Some may say eight spoonfuls of sugar is too much. Some may say it can cause cavities, or that the crash from the rush won’t make the caffei...

(by Shanta Sultana) Pick me up, hug me, and just tell me it is hurting you as much as it is hurting me. Let me know that you care, that I mean something to y...

(by Janet Clare) I’ve never spent much time, maybe none, thinking about cooking and eating and my mother. I have no memory of ever having cooked together. Ma...

(by Bex Brian) It was a few minutes before five in the evening on a Sunday. I wandered into my bedroom, chewing on a piece of toast I had made, leaving the b...

(by Aimee Lee Ball) My mother wanted (read: expected) a Valentine from me on February 14th. She had married when she was 21, was widowed when she was 22, and...

(by Suzanne Turner) (This is a work of fiction, if very informed by my Southern childhood.) Mama was off on a shopping trip to New York, and it was just me a...

(by Elizabeth Coo) All food has a story. This is one of a potsticker. The recipe begins as follows: 1. Prepare your meat of choice; chop finely. 2. Wash your...

(by Patricia Fieldsteel) It was her nerves, always her nerves. Her bedside table was a stocked pharmacy of pills and salves and drops and syrups for every po...

(by Angela Fradella) Money was tight in my Italian family when I was growing up, first in Brooklyn, but after the neighborhood got sketchy, we moved up the H...

(by Jen Rubin) 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 ...

(by Theresa Wilson) 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 b...