12 August, 2011

A Pie for Mikey

You start out with an idea, a concept of where you want to take it. A taste, a feel, a look. A finished product to be savoured and enjoyed. Something to share, to show off, to take pride in.

You gather the things to make it, and you bring them close. You handle them, you edit, you cut, you taste. Add heat, maybe some sizzle, and quite often a long simmer. At many times will you season, highlighting the flavours and subsequent adventure.

Usually it gets messy. You are either the type of person who cleans as they go or the kind that has a third hand following them washing and wiping as you move. It doesn't matter, as long as you address the mess at some point.


Eventually you sit to enjoy. It isn't necessarily what you expected it to be. Sometimes it doesn't work and you have to start over tomorrow. Quite often it's better. Much better than expected.

One day it explodes. The pleasure is insatiable. The joy immeasurable. On another day it is more subtle, simple. It is good, but not great. The pleasure and peace, however, is there. It's lingering and comforting. Perfect.

At least, this is how my marriage feels.

My husband is my best friend and an incredible man. Kind, generous, a little bit wicked. Committed, driven, and horribly sarcastic. He owns his own business and used to race mountain bikes. But I always thought I'd marry a professor or snooty intellectual. We'd live in an old house filled with books and no kids. Obviously that isn't what I've got.

My man in my life and our marriage came about like a farmers' market dinner. One day you find something that looks fantastic and you go with it. And so we have, experimenting along the way. Some days it explodes with pleasure and some days it is lingering and comforting. Perfect.

Imagining a life without my husband nearly stops my breath. Cold.

And now there is a colleague, a friend I met through blogging, who is living this fresh hell right now. Her husband, the father of her two little girls, suddenly collapsed and died last week. She is feeling the immeasurable pain of loss, the unimaginable.

This pie is for Mikey, for her, for their girls. This pie was his favourite and it deserves a celebration. As does he, as does the love he and Jennie shared. Their recipe gave the world this pie. Let's celebrate.

The food blogging community - including those who live close to Jennie and are lucky enough to share a drink and pizza with her - are gathering around her right now. This is community. Today we are making pie. People the world over are taking Jennie and Mike's pie and making it for their own loved ones. They are adapting the pie for themselves, making the recipe for their own loves. In doing so we celebrate a man, relationships, and the spirit of adventure in love, cooking, and life.



11 comments:

Aimee @ Simple Bites said...

Yes, and yes. Our men are our rocks. I love how you've expressed this here, Cheryl.

More tears tonight. I'll blame the pregnancy this time.

Blogging the Box said...

This is so lovely and beautiful. You're an incredible writer and this is such a touching tribute.

Tres Delicious said...

such a touching post. Love the way you've decorated your cake it looks so nice... so loving.

Cynthia Peterson said...

And this is why I ALWAYS read your blog, Cheryl. Touching, heartfelt, and beautifully written.

Julie said...

Love it. Love the heart! Will do that soon.

Winnie said...

I absolutely love this. Beautiful words about your husband and about life...

Jan @ Family Bites said...

This is lovely....and I love the heart!

Dyan said...

Looks yummy Cheryl and I love the heart in the middle! I giggled reading your words about your hubby - sometimes that's how love is - you might not get what you expected but you definitely get what you truly wanted:)
Dyan

cheryl said...

I've read a number of these tribute posts, as I know you have, too. But yours -- it gave me chills. Now I want to meet you, AND your husband.

merry jennifer said...

This is such a beautiful post, Cheryl. I love the analogy of the farmer's market dinner.

Thank you for this.

tracylee said...

Thank you for introducing us to Jenny. I've had tears in my eyes reading this and your more recent post. I didn't want to clutter the bids with a simple "thank you for helping her".