“But maybe you’d want to stay for one last nightcap?!”, I say with desperation in my voice, “I have options!”. This very clearly articulated by my grabbing a bottle of red wine, Prosecco, AND Limoncello when they were hinting that they should “really get going”. She and my Dad had come over to our house to celebrate Father’s Day, and as with most times we’re together, we had far too much fun and simply couldn’t call it quits at a reasonable time on a weeknight (yes, a weeknight). My only saving grace in this predicament? I was up so late the previous night… with my Mother. Suffice to say, I was feeling incomprehensibly terrible. You see, I had stayed up far too late the previous evening, and had imbibed my fair share of adult beverages. So far, just sounds like a normal day for Jamie, right? Wrong. We had moved our original date up in order to accommodate other plans she had, which I was happy to do (I am her daughter after all, and the desire to “make it all work” is something I’m very familiar with). Let me explain.įirst off, we made elaborate plans for me to arrive at her house by 8:30 in the morning, with an ambitious list of recipes to create together.
The day my Mom and I planned to spend in the kitchen together wasn’t off to the greatest start. This month’s story is about my Mom, Viki.
Each month I will share a new story about one of these people accompanied by one or more recipes. Kitchen Memoirs are a collection of stories about the people and dishes who have inspired me most in the kitchen.
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