Newsy! hopes you enjoy this Moment of Awwww brought to you by Jules Older– who thinks his grandcritters are pretty awwwwesome!

Consider this:

I Cook, Therefore I Care

When I have a friend in need – possibly due to a health crisis, a kid crisis, a work crisis or some other kind of crisis – I cook. It feels satisfying and right to make something good and nourishing or good and sweet to help make life a tiny bit better for someone I care about. So right now, I’m cooking. Today it’s matzo ball soup. The puffy balls are dancing around in simmering chicken broth, bumping up against bright orange circles of carrots. Earlier in the week, I delivered still-warm gluten-free chocolate chip banana bread with homemade strawberry jam. Another night: I pulled vegetarian eggrolls straight out of oven and onto a plate, covered it with foil and drove as quickly as I could to my friend’s house so the eggrolls would stay crispy and crunchy.

I’ve been thinking about my immediate urge to cook when someone I love is having a tough time. It’s hardly unique, I know. For me, it feels natural. I spend quite a bit of time in the kitchen as it is, and it’s often just as easy to cook for six or eight as it is for four. Double the ingredients, grease two pans instead of one and adjust the cooking time as needed. Voila.

But I wonder if my caring-by-cooking instinct might also be just that: an instinct. Something inherent, perhaps even inherited. My mom’s a great cook, and when I’m sad or sick, all I want is her perfectly poached, and perfectly comforting, egg-on-toast. My dad’s kitchen prowess is more infamous: clove fried rice and rye flour pancakes, both utterly inedible. But today, I’m looking further back in time, mentally tracing my other culinary roots.

On one side (my dad’s), I’ve got Grammy Older: My urban, highly educated, world-traveling Jewish grandmother is an obvious inspiration for my matzo balls and savory chicken stock. But although Hot Milk Cake is still one of our favorite “secret” family recipes, one that has been handed down through generations, I don’t really think of “cooking” when I think about Grammy Older. Instead, I think of card games, evenings at the theater and her matching set of well-worn suitcases. Regardless, I have many vivid food associations from my years spent visiting Grammy Older: I think of butterscotch candies glinting like precious citrine in a crystal dish on the coffee table in her Florida condominium. I think of eggy French toast for breakfast, pungent shrimp scampi at her favorite restaurant and Bryer’s chocolate ice cream, always in a cone, for dessert.

On the other side (my mom’s): Grammy Lawes, my rural, hard-working, farmer’s-wife Protestant grandmother, who raised six kids mostly in near poverty in the house my grandfather built. My grandmother planted and tended the vegetables and my grandfather tended and slaughtered the cows, plus an occasional pig. Nothing ever went to waste. (That being said, I asked my mom if Grammy ever made bone broth. She insists she never did).

When I think about Grammy Lawes, I get downright hungry remembering her homemade doughnuts filled with hidden air pockets in the dough, just begging to be drizzled with sweet maple syrup. My mouth waters recalling her tangy bread and butter pickles and zesty tomato, onion and green pepper “pickalili.” Grammy baked flakey biscuits for her chicken and biscuits, perhaps the world’s best comfort food, combining juicy poached chicken and plenty of savory gravy. When I think of Grammy Lawes, I think of cold potato salad with just the right amount of peas and hard-boiled eggs. I think of her homemade country bread, still warm from the oven and slathered with sticky, creamy peanut butter. I think of opaque Tupperware containers of every shape and size piled high on the back corner of the kitchen counter, always filled with sweets and treats, just waiting to be uncovered.

My warm, happy food associations blend seamlessly with my warm, happy memories of cherished time spent with both sets of my grandparents. Whether I was sitting at Grammy Lawes’ big wooden kitchen table or at the modern glass-topped table in Grammy Older’s dining room, I felt loved. Cared for. Protected. Nourished. Supported. Safe.

That’s just how I want my friends and family to feel when life deals them a low blow. So today, with a heavy heart once again, I’m cooking.

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Cook this:

Falafel

I recently bought some frozen falafel patties, microwaved them (as the instructions suggested) and served them with pita and hummus. Everyone seemed to enjoy the meal, which pleased me greatly since I often face the Seventy-Five Percent Rule at dinner: Three-quarters of us are happy with what I’m serving, while one really annoying quarter refuses flat-out to touch the disgusting ___ (fill in the blank).

So you can imagine my frustration when, after dinner that night, my husband declared the frozen falafel so heavy (and, by implication, disgusting) that he’d never eat them again. The Fourth Quarter struck again.

But I wasn’t giving up. I could see great potential in this easy, healthy Middle Eastern meal, so I turned to my cookbooks. Thanks to Eating Well’s Healthy In A Hurry, I quickly found a recipe for “a lightweight chickpea patty.” I’ve now made this homemade falafel several times, and one hundred percent of us think it’s delicious. And I think you will, too.

Light and Yummy Falafel That’s Not At All Disgusting

Note one: I “one-and-a-half” or double this recipe

Note two: I’ve used almond flour for a GF version. The only difference was that the patties were a little more crumbly and delicate than with flour. Still tasted great!

1.5 15-ounce cans chickpeas, rinsed

4 scallions, trimmed and sliced

1 egg

2 Tbs all-purpose flour

½ tsp ground cumin

¼ tsp ground coriander

¼ tsp salt

2 Tbs extra-virgin olive oil

Place all ingredients except the oil in a food processor. Pulse, stopping once or twice to scrape down the sides, until a coarse mixture forms that holds together when pressed. (The mixture will be moist.) Form balls the size of ping-pong balls (or a little smaller) and then flatten to about ½-inch thick.

Heat oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add patties and cook until golden brown and beginning to crisp, 4-5 minutes. Carefully flip and cook another 2-4 minutes until uniformly golden brown.

Serve with pita, hummus, tahini and your favorite Middle Eastern fixings.

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Read this:

Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel 

(2009 Man Booker Prize)

AND

Catherine the Great: Portrait of a Woman by Robert Massie 

(2012 Andrew Carnegie Medal for Excellence in Nonfiction)

Let me say right up front that I did not finish Wolf Hall, which is why I’m posting two reviews this week. That being said, I really, really tried to finish it. First I read the first 130 pages and then returned it to the library feeling frustrated by what felt like unnecessarily cumbersome, convoluted and confusing writing (thankfully I knew from the outset that the narrative perspective was Thomas Cromwell’s). Then I saw a staged production of Anne Boleyn at my local theater and was inspired to check out Wolf Hall again. Fifty more pages in, I finally admitted that despite so many accolades, this book just wasn’t doing it for me. Even though I’m genuinely interested in the story of the Tudors, I couldn’t get past Mantel’s writing style. At some point I’ll reread The Other Boleyn Girl by Philippa Gregory and get my Tudor fix that way. Unless you have a book on this topic/time frame you recommend?

Award worthy? Yes. But this one just wasn’t for me.

As much as I was surprised that I didn’t enjoy the Wolf Hall, I was even more surprised by how much I loved Robert Massie’s 575-page biography of Catherine the Great of Russia. I like biographies, but since I know virtually nothing about Catherine or the time period in which she lived and ruled, I was intimidated picking up this book. But I loved it. Massie is a great writer (no surprise, given his Pulitzers and more) and his subtitle, “Portrait of a Woman,” hints at his ability to turn historical evidence into a rich, compelling story of a smart, complex woman and the personal and political relationships that shaped her life. I admit I had to work hard to keep all the names straight, it was well worth it to finish this wonderful book.

Award worthy? You bet!

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