My favorite thing about food is that it’s a vehicle for stories. Yes, it’s nourishing and tastes good, if you’re skilled or lucky or wealthy enough. Those qualities, though, aren’t special. My favorite foods are the stuff of memories, my own and others, of historical or personal importance. Having a deeper connection to the people that made it is the secret spice that makes flavors bloom more vibrantly than a whole quart of MSG. I’d trade all my quick fix recipes just to have more stories.
Every time I feel compelled to dive back into the past, through fading photos or slides illuminated from the Kodaslide‘s unearthly glow, I’m digging just beyond the margins. Living inside each frame. Hunting for something I’ve missed, as if just looking harder, more intensely, will reveal Waldo right in the middle of the page. Sometimes it’s easier to discover, though harder to decipher.
The subject of one holiday snapshot, I recognize my beautiful 20-year-old Grandmother immediately, beaming over a table of desserts. Delicate glasses filled with an undefined, nebulous substance preside over every formal place setting. For weeks, maybe months, the image haunted me; I had no idea what that dish was. I was missing a story.
Great debates with other family members followed. At first, I thought maybe it was sorbet, as my Grandfather was so fond of making, but I swear it seemed to have more texture. Is it a pudding, a parfait? I’m not at all convinced I have the answer, but I’ve decided to create my own addendum to this story. If you ask me, I think it’s ambrosia. Wildly popular in the early to mid-1900s, especially for the winter holidays, I can see it being all the rage around the time of the photo.
Writing in own post-script, I’m making ambrosia in my own modern kitchen, hoping that I might have more stories to pass down, too. In this rendition, I’ve taken the sweetness down a notch by tempering it with an invigorating triple hit of citrus. Mandarin orange segments are traditional, easily augmented with candied lemon peels and a final flourish of fresh lime zest.
I could write a whole dissertation about what could qualify as ambrosia (most creamy fruit salads) and the crimes against humanity some commit (including mayonnaise), but I’d rather tell one story at a time. I don’t worry about running out of ingredients or inspiration. I do worry about running out of stories. Hopefully this one might be the beginning of another for someone else.
Continue reading “Ambrosial Addendum”