Granny and the Garlic Dip.

 Me and Granny in the kitchen circa 1970

I can't believe I haven't written this, in fact I might have.  So forgive me if I am repeating myself.  The star party food in my family was/is my Granny's garlic dip.  Total low brow deliciousness served only with Ruffles brand potato chips.  Ruffles have Ridges!  Every family party, every Thanksgiving, every Holiday.  Granny's garlic dip.  When I got old enough to ask she would tell me that I could have the recipe "after" .  After she died.  This was her standard answer for most things.

When she died, her house remained unchanged until my Grandfather died nearly a decade later.  I didn't even remember her promise to leave me the recipe.  My Mom took over making it. ( As she often had when we lived overseas away from my Grandparents)   Often it was the only thing I wanted when I came home for holiday visits.  I think my Mom even made it for my birthday one year.

After my Mom died and the entire contents of her house and much of what had been in my Grandparents house made it's way, one semi at a time, to our house I started looking around for the recipe.  There were four wooden recipe boxes. My Mom's. Two of my Granny's and one from my Great Grandmother.  Each filled with hand written dogeared recipe cards and magazine clippings.  My  combined  maternal culinary legacy. I searched and searched for the card with the Garlic Dip recipe on it.  Past the Tamale Loaf, Zucchini Cookies, Strawberry Crepes, well beyond the Ripe Tomato Jam, Beefy Mexican Lasagna and Calico Beans.  Past the series of cards marked with  Mrs. Frediani, Mrs. Feetham,  Mrs. King; the cards given to my mother at her wedding shower.  The legacy of generations of female cooks.  All neatly written.  A tiny lifeline for a new Bride with a Midwestern husband who expected things to taste just like home. Hundreds of recipes. San Francisco Chop Suey, Feather Cake, Grandpa's Fudge, Beef and Sour Cream. On and on.  The history of west coast US cookery right there.  Near the back of one of the boxes was my Mom's Beer Batter Fish recipe, the dreaded Fruit Soup and finally a card marked, Granny's Garlic Dip.  I chuckled to myself and gleefully pulled it from the box.  My Mom had been dead for several years at this point and I wanted Garlic Dip.  I yanked the card from the box.  And gasped, and then laughed until I cried.  With the exception of the title, the card is blank.  Utterly blank.  No hint, no nothing.  So, so like my Granny.  One last comment from beyond the veil.  Blank. BLANK.

After I got over the surprise, I was kind of annoyed.  My trickster Granny had gotten me good.  Jokes on me.  I have been working on perfecting what I remember ever since. The story is always good for a laugh from strangers and a knowing nod from the few who remember Granny.   It has been suggested that maybe she intended to write it down and forgot, or it got lost.  Pishtwaddle!  She never forgot anything. This was deliberate. The most amazing thing is that she was content to set it in motion knowing that she would never see the result. Never hear my indignant swearing when I realized what she had done.

Tonight as I was retelling this story to Doodle I had a kind of epiphany.  While it was a funny joke, and a great family story, it was also a very clear instruction.  A kind of love note from beyond.  It's as if she said, you've got this.  Make it your own.  Find your own way.  Write your own story.  It's very much who she was and who she taught me to be.

I think I have it now. I've written it in our book of recipes and traditions, well kind of.   I'd tell you how to make it, but that would ruin your own journey.

Happy Thanksgiving!