The Tipping Point

(by Lorraine Devon Wilke)

It’s a tender tradition, set in warm kitchens scented by melting butter and every manner of bubbling, baking thing made by hand and assembled with love. With music playing and coffee brewed—a glass of wine if you’re old enough and it’s late enough—those collaborative moments between mother and daughter are iconic rites of passage, moments of bonding and laughter as recipes are taught, translated, even improved, and debates rage over the value of tarragon or whether mushrooms ever belong in meatloaf. Many a girl has flushed at the newfound responsibility of “seasoning to taste,” while a mother stands nearby, fighting the tug of nostalgia as she surrenders the recipe box, bequeathing her cooking legacy to a beloved daughter.

Yeah. That would not be my mother.