Several years ago, I started baking with my kids. It wasn’t so much about my love of all things sweet that inspired me to bring them into the kitchen. Rather, I found that the time we spent together baking was truly meaningful. My children talked more openly with me when we were baking. I felt like I could teach them lessons about patience, math, teamwork, visualization, and recently, what it means for something to be bittersweet.
For those of you who know me personally, you know that I recently lost my father. This won’t be the post where I talk about how incredible my father was as a person, father and grandfather. I spent three-to-five good minutes putting on this cheap makeup today, and I can’t have it running down my face right before I go to school pick-up.
Instead, this will be the post where I tell you about how I got my children to talk to me about how they are doing with the loss of their beloved grandfather, “Papa.” Â At least for me, it’s easy to forget that our children have to grieve lost loved ones in their own way. And just as it is with us grown-ups, the grieving process can be both confusing and difficult to cope with at times.
Yesterday, I brought my kids into the kitchen for a baking project, and to talk about their Papa. We baked dark chocolate peanut butter cookies, and talked about how some things are sweet, some things are bitter, and some things are both. Like peanut butter, the memories we have of their Papa are so sweet. And like dark chocolate, the sadness we feel is uncomfortably bitter.
However, when you combine the sweet with the bitter and give it the right amount of time, it comes together just fine. Just like when you combine the peanut butter with the dark chocolate and give them time to bake together, they are wonderful. It’s not just sweet, it’s not just bitter, it’s bittersweet. It’s different than what you may be used to, but it is special in it’s own way.
I know the metaphor is a stretch, but I think they got it. The good Lord knows I tried. They asked me some great questions about loss, including if in heaven the houses are made out of cupcakes, (why not). And the cookies came out divine. We used a famous recipe from The Levain Bakery in NYC.
http://www.modernhoney.com/levain-bakery-dark-chocolate-peanut-butter-chip-cookies/
So if your family is also mourning a loss, Â one coping option is to bake it through it together. Hopefully in time the bitterness of loss will be met with the sweetness of your memories. Â We hope you enjoy this recipe as much as we have.
With scoops of love,
Well written and touching. Nicely done, Emily. Sometimes while we are trying to teach them, they end up teaching us,too. Sending love.
Thank you so much, Carol. Your feedback means the world. xoxo
Sweet Emily. This post made me cry. I lost my father two years ago and I spent time after in the kitchen doing much of the same mourning, coping and feeling as you have here with your kids. There is something about the way you can move through a recipe in the kitchen that somehow comforts your soul during a time of loss. I’m so sorry for yours and my heart goes out to all of you. Wish I could send a hug right on down to Charleston. <3
Thank you so much, Val. Your comment means so much during this unfortunate time. Your dad was so wonderful, and we all truly mourned with you after his loss. You are so right, moving through a recipe forces you to focus on something outside the sadness, and brings a certain comfort during times like these. Sending hugs right back to you. xoxo