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For Fathers Day, my stepdaughter wanted to make her dad chili. A few weeks back, she dug out my grandma's recipe and made it and he's been after her to do it again ever since.  "Granny chili" is famous among everyone who has ever had it, and Hannah did a bang-up job on her version.   Her idea got me to thinking, so I decided to make MY very well-deserving dad some cookies, using another Granny recipe. It's been several hours and I haven't gotten any calls from the hospital, so it seems he survived.

Getting out the recipe cards is always melancholy; I see her writing and I can just hear her (especially on the chili recipe where it says "can be doubled - and doubled again!" - the woman knew her audience). But when I tasted the cookie dough - had to make sure it was okay, of course - it took me back to the days in her kitchen when she'd let me "help" (meaning, eat the vast majority of the dough).

But, as my husband says, if remembering those we love keeps them alive, then surely passing on their recipes does the same. Nicholas just missed meeting my grandma, but you can be dang sure he'll be meeting her chili.