BeBe's Pot
Everyone has them. The sound, smell, or sight of something immediately takes you back to a moment in time in your past when you felt like life was absolutely perfect. It is Elizabeth here this week, and for me, one of those moments of perfection was my grandmother's kitchen. Whether that kitchen was in Pittsburgh or Florida during her and my grandfather's months of snow birding, I always knew something extraordinary was in the works in Bebe's kitchen. Soon, I would be surrounded by fantastic food and even better company.
When I started Good Batch Mama, I brought relics that ensured I would always have something to transport me back to those moments with my grandmother. After all, generations of recipes and family dinners began with her.
What are they, you wonder? Some of my prize possessions hold very little value to most people, but they remain priceless here at Good Batch Mama. You can find traces of her all over the office, from a recipe card to a vintage scale, but three extra special pots are tucked away on the shelves with stacks of shiny new pots. These were three of Bebe's favorite pots. They were used to make her special pork bone spaghetti sauce and boil her homemade pasta (among other delicious dishes). One has now been retired (and once rescued from the "get rid of" pile) and currently resides in my kitchen at home; a bad encounter with scorched milk resigned it to piece fit more for a shelf than a stove. The other two, however, are still in active use in our kitchen. Every week these pots are used countless times to heat sauce, cook veggies, boil water, make soup, and family meals. Recently, the smallest pot was taken to a catering. Upon arrival back to the shop, it was MIA for a couple of weeks. I tried not to think about being upset it may be gone, but I was. You can imagine my excitement when I discovered it stacked inside a round chafing pan, hiding away like an old treasure waiting to be found. Although still used in our kitchen, it has been declared by all that it will not be traveling outside the familiar walls at GBM anymore.
I am so thankful for my memories of cooking with my grandmother in her kitchen. Little did she know that part of her legacy would be passed down through old aluminum pots. Isn't that the way it often works? Sometimes, the things we think are the least important become the most. Who knew a trio of pots would inspire the daily operations of an entire company? Suddenly, I find myself pondering my legacy and hoping that each of my children and grandchildren will have the same experiences I had growing up in a kitchen filled with love, laughter, and wonderful food.
