Editor's Pick
JANUARY 19, 2010 8:31AM
Rate: 27
tiny sprouts playing "where's the coffee?" circa: 1979
About two centuries back, when our children were merely tiny sprouts, we lived in Buffalo where great blizzards were de rigor. We were young, broke college students supporting those two tiny girls on love and fumes. It seemed to work because eventually we finished college and sailed away to the first of a series of moves that eventually landed us on the left coast, where blizzards are not de rigor.Those Buffalo days were about as precious as they come, though at the time, they were endeavors in creative living. We moved to an eclectic neighborhood full of Buffalo working class, college professors, students, and young families. The first day there, I discovered a tiny dancer with a curly- top bouncing in the picture window across the street. She was jumping up and down on the sofa trying to get a better look at the new neighbors.
This girl became our daughter’s first best friend. There was a small boy as well, the same age as our youngest daughter. Their mother became one of my closest friends. By the time the summer rolled around we spent many days outside with the kids, sitting on the giant front stoops of those old Victorians, drinking endless pots of coffee in the morning and switching to wine after a somewhat reasonable hour.
As the kids got older, their play became more entertaining. The littlest boy and girl often played -late for work. My daughter would yell out, “Here’s your coffee HONEY”. And he would reply, in a strange little toddler baritone, “Thanks HONEY. LATE FOR WORK”, as he grabbed the Sippy cup full of robust pretend high test, zipping off on his Big Wheels down the street. She would remain in the doorway or on the porch, Sippy coffee in hand, shaking her head in endearment. This would go on for hours. I can hear their tiny toddler voices still; his more like a tiny version of Regis, and she exactly like Gwen Stefani.
Aside from the endless gallons of coffee and wine, we shared hundreds of grilled cheese sandwiches over the years. They were the foundation for every single child lunch. Much like macaroni and cheese or peanut butter and jelly for some kids, grilled cheese was the lunch choice for these four kids. We would make them in my friend’s kitchen while the kids played in the yard. Her kitchen was the size of a large broom closet, but we had a method that turned out piles of those sandwiches with perfectly melted, kid-friendly cheese. They would gobble them down faster than they came off the stove.
To this day, I cannot replicate, order, or come up with a grilled cheese that comes close to the ones we made back then. But it doesn’t really matter. Every time I bite into a melted cheese Panini, or old fashioned grilled cheese, I see my friend’s kitchen, smell the melting cheese and pan toasted bread, and hear those four small voices. I can hear the laughter of my friend’s voice as she makes yet one more sandwich. Four kids and 12 sandwiches was not unheard of back then.
The day we graduated from college, ready to move to new jobs in another State, all of us knew those four years were coming to a close. We vowed to remain in touch and we did. Sporadically and on a whim we would hear from one another. It was the kind of friendship that just sweetly picks up where you last left off without missing a beat. It didn’t matter if it was a month or ten years. Or even twenty.
Last month my friend died suddenly from an evil infection that swept through her, as her son said, like a perfect storm. She went into the hospital with a typical and ordinary illness and never came home again. She was buried two days before Christmas, her favorite holiday.
To celebrate our friendship, I am going to make a pot of coffee this weekend and sit on a friendly stoop and drink cup after cup with anyone who wants to join me. Then I will make a pile of grilled cheese sandwiches and share them with friends while we toast a woman who always found a way to make life seem like a miraculous privilege. It was an honor to be her friend.
a left coast grilled cheese
Greenfield Street Grilled Cheese: The Left Coast Version
- · 2 slices of thick sourdough bread, preferably day old
- · 4 slices of sharp cheddar cheese
- · Unsalted butter
- · Tomato, sliced extra thin, seeds removed
- · Salt & Pepper
Optional: replace the butter with olive oil. Brush the olive oil onto the bread in place of the butter. Make sure the heat is not too high.
Remove to a cutting board and slice. Serrated knife works best.
Note: To replicate the kid’s version, use American Cheese (organic cheese slices are best) and use real butter and whole grain (light color) bread. Follow the same directions and leave out the tomato unless the kid is a fan of red. It's close, but not exacty the same. Make several and serve with love.
Comments
What a beautiful tribute to your friend ... I, too, love grilled cheese sandwiches (especially the ones you find at a local diner on white bread. I know it's not healthy for you but to me, that's my childhood calling me!). I am sorry for your loss but here to hoping that your memories will continue to nourish your soul.
This is such a lovely and touching piece about your friendship and your life as a young mother. Enjoy your grilled cheese sandwich garnished with those wonderful memories. Bon apetite!
A lovely and poignant tribute. I'll join you with the grilled cheese.
What wonderful memories you have shared with us, as well as a reminder of the stages of life. Thank you.
Your story has me bawling. What a tribute to a remarkable woman and a remarkable friendship.
I remember our own early married days, raising our children on just such a street. A neighboring mother who became for me a mentor and much-admired friend. We lost touch and found each other again several times over the twenty years were were apart. The joy of each reunion was almost worth the pain of missing her. We had just reconnected again in December of 08 when I got the word that she had passed away, unexpectedly, from a heart attack. She was only 49, at her peak physically, professionally and personally.
Enjoy your grilled cheese. With so much lost, it's important to hang on to the traditions and rituals that memorialize our experiences and relationships. Food can do that.
I remember our own early married days, raising our children on just such a street. A neighboring mother who became for me a mentor and much-admired friend. We lost touch and found each other again several times over the twenty years were were apart. The joy of each reunion was almost worth the pain of missing her. We had just reconnected again in December of 08 when I got the word that she had passed away, unexpectedly, from a heart attack. She was only 49, at her peak physically, professionally and personally.
Enjoy your grilled cheese. With so much lost, it's important to hang on to the traditions and rituals that memorialize our experiences and relationships. Food can do that.
Such a lovely tribute to your friend, LnP. The nostalgia running through this post made me homesick for my mother's grilled ham and cheese sandwiches.
What a great post, L&P. Nothing like a grilled cheese sandwich on a cold day: simple, delicious, and soul-warming. Like great friendships. So sorry for your loss; here's to the memories that endure.
Thanks so very much. I made grilled cheese for lunch.
Then I will go in search of good but fake dunkin donuts (none out here) to honor Robert Parker.
Sigh.
Then I will go in search of good but fake dunkin donuts (none out here) to honor Robert Parker.
Sigh.
She sounds like the kind of friend everyone should have at least once in their life. You do too, for that matter.
Nothing more honors the dead than happy remembrances like this.
Nothing more honors the dead than happy remembrances like this.
Anyone who says food is not love has just not sat down to the right table with the right person/people. The people I love and the food we share and rejoice over is what it's all about. Those who are lost to me now, are often remembered through the meals that we enjoyed together.
I'm still shattered about Robert Parker too. Sigh.
I'm still shattered about Robert Parker too. Sigh.
What a lovely tribute to your friend. Food is so evocative of time and place sometimes - for me, it was homemade whole-wheat crust cheese pizza. Sometimes, we'd make 4-5 of them for playgroup in one noontime...
I think I'm just going to give up and accept that all I'm going to do today is cry. This was so evocative and lovely, L. I'm truly sorry for the loss of your friend. She sounds like she had a wonderful spirit. I wish I could sit on the stoop next to you and share a grilled cheese but I'll have to settle for sending you a virtual hug instead.
This was beautiful. And thank you for the grilled cheese recipe - which looks delicious! Great storytelling.
A beautiful tribute to friendship and the art of grilled cheese. We are blessed by all the relationships we form throughout our lives. I'm sorry for your loss but trust you'll find comfort in memories, coffee, and grilled cheese. Thank you for sharing!
This was wonderful to read on so many levels. I am sorry about the loss of your friend--what a good way to remember and celebrate her life and your memories. I love grilled cheese, and will remember this the next time I enjoy it.
rebelmom - thank you. it is comfort food, isn't it?
Nelly - many thanks. I've been eating them all week.
Steve - thank you, and use cheddar!
Julie - Thank you so much for coming by.
Bellwether - Thank you so much, too. I'm sorry for your loss. So sad. And yes, food is like that, which is a good thing.
Ash - ah, grilled ham and cheese. good stuff.
Donna - Thank you!
Skel - aw, thanks. I really appreciate that.
cave - yeah, me too. we toasted Parker at lunch today.
blue - pizza is great for kids, too. they will remember and so will you.
Lis - thank you sister of mine. hugs back.
Colleen - thank you - and the sandwiches are great comfort food - enjoy.
Beth - Thank you very much!
sophieh - thank you - much appreciated!
Nelly - many thanks. I've been eating them all week.
Steve - thank you, and use cheddar!
Julie - Thank you so much for coming by.
Bellwether - Thank you so much, too. I'm sorry for your loss. So sad. And yes, food is like that, which is a good thing.
Ash - ah, grilled ham and cheese. good stuff.
Donna - Thank you!
Skel - aw, thanks. I really appreciate that.
cave - yeah, me too. we toasted Parker at lunch today.
blue - pizza is great for kids, too. they will remember and so will you.
Lis - thank you sister of mine. hugs back.
Colleen - thank you - and the sandwiches are great comfort food - enjoy.
Beth - Thank you very much!
sophieh - thank you - much appreciated!
Gawd you made me hungry for a grilled cheese--my favorite is sourdough, mozarella, tomato and basil.
Such a sad and sweet memory. You were so lucky to have those times. You get to have them back a little bit, with a bite of a grilled cheese sandwich. Ah life. "A miraculous priviledge." r
This made me hungry! Great post!
If everyone lived like this--wouldn't there be peace on earth?
Rated for being wonderful...love the photos.
Rated for being wonderful...love the photos.
Poignant, and ultimately, delicious.
Food is definitely one of the languages of love. When i lost my nanna i tried to make one of her wonderful bacon sandwiches with english bacon of course....it was great but not nanna great
it seems times began to change during the Reagan years when all us boomers started chasing the almighty dollar. Those drinking wine on the porch while the kids played were quickly left behind while we all played the late for work game. Drink too much wine on the porch now and your neighbors might call child & family services.
Thanks for the post.
Thanks for the post.
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