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Once or twice a year, I take the apron off the hanger and drape it over my neck. The apron belonged to Grandpa Bill. It is printed with an image of the king from a deck of cards. We have photos of him wearing it, standing above a table filled with holiday food, a turkey, a casserole dish of Grandma’s corn, a crystal serving plate with a molded cylinder of canned cranberries.  The apron is a sign of our family’s enduring love of food and drinks. 

Every occasion that we gather together centers on food. In summer in Golden, a chicken sits on the grill balancing on a tall boy beer can, or maybe it’s a bevy of steaks slathered in olive oil, rosemary, sage from the hills across the street, and fresh garlic, artichokes steaming in the pot.  Christmas, a turkey cooks in the smoker on the patio while Jon and I prepare the dinner, first having a little Scotch or a leftover Tom and Jerry, wrapping packages, and maybe playing some Christmas, drum-circle jazz while in a church Jon and I have never seen, the rest of the family sings hymns. Grandma’s corn casserole is in the oven. Rolls are baking; potatoes are boiling. Oyster stew is warming in a pot. At the bar in Golden, we waited for Jerm and Phyl to arrive with their famous margaritas, biding our time sipping chocolate martinis that Jay has made, shavings of good chocolate floating to our lips. 

In this collection of recipes, we gather flavors from all the branches of the family, dishes from our diverse family’s cultural roots from Philippines to Africa, from Sweden to Germany and more. There are classics that we remember from our many meals together, and new dishes to try. 

We have been fed by our mothers and fathers, and now we are the mothers and fathers feeding our children, and our children are adults feeding others, even their own children. I put on Grandpa’s apron and begin to make Grandma’s corn casserole. I am preparing a meal; I share such pleasures with people I love.  

-Joel Long, Christmas 2020