Last Thursday I spent a few hours at a historical estate pop-up sale in Indian Hill. It’s the one market left on my calendar this year, and for good reason. A local nonprofit, Do It For Jack, organizes it, and there is a quiet strength to the whole place. My kids came along and asked whether we could move into Peterloon Estate. I told them we’d think about it.
Halfway through the afternoon, I recognized a face. I searched the memory drawers and found her: Mrs. B., one of my kids’ teachers from six or seven years ago. She had no idea I had a business, or a book, or a table full of linens. We simply started talking.
At some point her voice softened. “You know,” she said, “they don’t do it anymore.”
She meant her own children, now adults with families of their own. “Twenty years ago, when they were young, we always ate together. Always. But now they cook for the kids and then order in, or grab something on the way home.”
I asked her why.
“Two reasons, I’d say. One, nobody ever taught them how to cook, so they don’t know where to start. Two, they are very successful.”
Then she smiled. “But my household was busy, too. And we were successful! I worked my whole career, and still, every night, I came home and made dinner for everyone.”
We laughed and said goodbye. I kept thinking about it all the way home.
It’s a question of culture
Cooking for your family is not a question of success. It is not “if you work, you can’t also do that.” It is a question of culture, of what gets passed down from one generation to the next. A child who learns to cook receives a treasure they carry their whole life.
Teaching doesn’t need to be grand. It can be a Tuesday afternoon, a bowl, a whisk, a few eggs, and a child on a stool who is allowed to make a mess.
So maybe tonight is a good night to go back. What did we love eating growing up? Something our nonna made, or our mom? A quick trip to the store, a recipe pulled up online, a first try that may not be perfect. And a tablecloth on the table, because a meal that is set feels different from a meal that is grabbed.
About BLOSSOM
This is the thought behind BLOSSOM, a limited-edition tablecloth we created to accompany the book A Cloth Upon the Table. It began with a simple belief: every home deserves a table worth gathering around.
BLOSSOM is woven in Italy from 100% cotton Panama, a sturdy, honest fabric made for everyday meals as much as for celebrations. It measures 108″ × 60″, comes in four colors (Green, White, Celadon and Blue), and is machine washable. It can go in the dryer and needs an iron only if you like it crisp.
It was months of work, and it has one purpose: to be spread over a table where someone is about to cook, and someone else is about to sit down.
Buon weekend, full of shared meals.
Margherita
Photo credit: Margaret Nelson Photography