Sweet As Honey
(by Catherine Gigante-Brown)
Everything my mother did was filled with love, from burping a baby to making a meal. She would hum while she prepped, as she stirred, even as she served. She took true joy in cooking and in life itself.
If my mother knew someone liked roasted peppers, she’d pack a homemade jar of them in a brown paper bag and tote it to Florida when she and Dad visited their capsicum-loving friend. If she knew an uncle had a hankering for cervelli fritti (calf’s brains and eggs, yuck!), she’d be sure to get the organ meat from the butcher.