By Michele Cross
Her eyes opened and began to take in the new day. Soft sunlight warmed the room. Lola closed her eyes again as her mind slowly awakened. She inhaled deeply and was greeted by the unmistakable smell of Grampy’s chocolate chip pancakes. The sweet scent of melting chocolate brought with it a wave of happiness. A gentle knock on the door followed. Not knowing if his granddaughters were awake, Grampy spoke through the unopened door, “I’m making chocolate chip pancakes right now, but there’s some ready so you can grab those if you’re hungry.”
Breakfast was a treasured summertime ritual at Tita and Grampy’s cottage on Monroe Lake in the Poconos. Grampy was famous for his “big breakfasts” and amongst his grandchildren he was considered the master of the chocolate chip pancake.
Occasionally, these sweet delights were also a point of contention with “the parents”. Grampy proudly and openly defied my sister’s pleas to “go light on the syrup Dad”. This evoked giggles from the likes of Lola and her siblings while the adults were left shaking their heads as Vermont maple syrup flowed and flowed.
In a letter to her grandfather years later, Lola reflected, “You have been in my life all fifteen years and you have gifted me with amazing memories for all. Summer mornings the smell of fresh and sweet chocolate chip pancakes carried through the house. The fluffy, light pancakes on the table. Even with your recipe in hand it will never be the same. Your hands gave a magic touch behind the kitchen counter.”
I imagine many of us have memories of a meal or dish shared with a dear grandparent. They span the spectrum of the day – breakfast, lunch, dinner, a side dish, snack or sweet treat. Whatever the dish, it is something etched in your heart as much as your mind. For some, the recipes and traditions have been passed on for generations – often by word of mouth, sometimes in writing or simply lived experience.
It is with a deep sense of gratitude that this story came to be. It is an opportunity to honor the love that grandparents have shared with us through food, life experiences, and their presence; and to share some of the stories, history and recipes from Cape Cod and afar.
From the Heart of Provincetown
A refreshing breeze tempered the warmth that late August afternoon. Friends arrived for a special dinner hosted by and at the home of Mike and Kalliope Chute, proprietors of Mermaid Menu oyster farm. A home built by Mike’s grandfather.
Three generations gathered – some who had been friends for decades and others who were early in their journey to discovering the rich history and culture of Provincetown. Over the course of the evening, we enjoyed the bounty of the sea – oysters from Mike and Kalliope’s farm in Provincetown Harbor, lobsters harvested by Captain Alex Iacona of the F/V Storm Elizabeth, along with mussels and shrimp. The feast also included other delectable dishes like a cheese board, focaccia, burrata, farm tomatoes, grilled chicken, homemade potato salad, and corn on the cob. Friends and guest chefs, Lou and Kim Concra, helped to bring the flavorful meal to fruition. Olivia Rose, a talented sommelier, curated a selection of wines for the evening’s menu. Some of the guests shared old black and white photos, and those gathered reminisced about earlier years in Provincetown and the traditions of “suppers” or dinners much like that evening. Our conversation eventually turned to favorite family recipes and meals.
Sal Del Deo, a beloved artist, former restaurateur, and resident of Provincetown for eighty years, recalled Alice Luiz Cook’s cookbook and noted “the recipes are very good.” Born in Olhao, Algarve, Portugal, Alice Luiz Cook moved to Provincetown in 1915. Proud of her Portuguese heritage and to help preserve and celebrate her culture, she wrote Traditional Portuguese Recipes from Provincetown, part cookbook and part history book, compiled from the memories, stories and kitchens of Portuguese immigrants. As her friend Grace Gouveia Collinson observed in the cookbook’s introduction, “…no one from the Portuguese community realized that as time went by, many of the traditional recipes, most of which were handed down from mother to daughter by word of mouth, would be lost unless they were recorded.”
The pages are filled with comfort foods – a mix of native dishes and some adapted to local ingredients. Recipes include those for Portuguese bread, Sopa de Peixe (fish stew), Canja com Arroz (chicken soup), Salsichas Guisadas (frankfurter stew) and Pudim d’Arroz Douce (Portuguese Sweet Rice Pudding), among others. These are meals and other treats sure to bring warmth to a cold winter day. Alice Luiz affectionately recalled her mother’s sweets at Christmas, “I still remember the loving care she devoted to making these sweets – I think that must have been the secret ingredient that made them especially tasty…”
Returning to our dinner gathering, Nancy Meads, a lifelong Provincetown resident, former shellfish farmer and passionate cook, shared her perspective. When I asked about her favorite recipes, she looked me in the eye and in a soft voice said without hesitation, “the soups”. She then asked if I had ever had kale soup or several others. In an instant, I felt like a child, sitting on the edge of my chair, eager for her to continue her story as if I was having a conversation with my own grandmother. She kindly suggested I stop by the house, and she would share recipes. Fortunately, she had also brought along several beautiful handwritten cards adorned with a colorful cornucopia, “Recipe from the kitchen of: Nancy Meads” – Scalloped Oysters and Oyster Stew among the collection.
As the evening drew to a close, Sal raised a final toast of gratitude to our wonderful hosts. It was a culinary feast that celebrated the bounty of the sea and Provincetown. It was an evening filled with laughter, history, culture and warmth – the kind of warmth one feels when spending time with your grandparents, family and friends over a meal. The type of evening I imagine Mike’s grandfather would have enjoyed in the very same backyard.
In catching up with Mike later, he shared more about his grandfather and grandmother, better known as “Grampa and Nana”. He described them as welcoming everyone and often hosting friends for dinner and dancing at the house. He remembered his grandfather, an oyster harvester, as “one of the kindest individuals in the world. He opened our eyes to Provincetown, the harbor, the bounty, the experiences and sense of community.” Mike reminisced about his summer visits with his grandparents, adding that his grandfather would make sure they had lobster, a special occasion meal, which he would steam in the backyard. He fondly recounted fishing and learning to filet fish with his grandfather. On the topic of recipes, Mike shared memories of his grandfather’s kale soup and his love of being sent home with containers of soup that could be warmed up another day.
As he reflected further, his words flowed, a rising tide of gratitude for the lessons his grandparents shared – honoring their courage to live their lives their way and their commitment to creating the best experience possible in life and for their family.
Finding Treasures in the Moment
In reading about and listening to the stories, experiences and recipes from grandparents near and far, I recalled others from my childhood and earlier years. I remember Grammy’s macaroni and cheese, which to this day I recall her preparing, her dress protected by an apron as she stood stirring the pot while Velveeta cheese and butter melted amongst the noodles, carefully adding milk to achieve a creamy consistency.
There were my mother’s tales of learning to make flour tortillas around the age of five from “Welita Belen”, my great grandmother. Too little to reach the counter, she would stand on a can of lard early on in her studies. These were tortillas that I grew up on, and to this day have not come close to replicating. The magic hangs in the balance of a handful of flour, the right amount of baking powder, water and lard. Dough manipulated, but not too much, and then divided into small balls and left to sit. Rolled into perfect circles on a floured surface followed by time on a cast iron skillet – enough to cook on each side but leave a pliable bread that goes well with eggs, potatoes and cheese at breakfast or grilled chicken or beef and salsa for dinner. I have come to believe it is something only my mother’s hands are capable of crafting.
“Mama Lupe”, my maternal grandmother, made chile macho (salsa), a recipe that, on the other hand, is much easier to bring to life. The ingredients? Three to four fresh tomatoes, two to three garlic cloves, a small onion and two to six jalapeños (fewer if you prefer a milder salsa or more if you prefer spicy). Roast on a cast iron griddle or broiled until slightly blackened. Once cooked, place all the ingredients in a food processor or blender, and pulse to your preferred texture and season with coarse salt to taste. It is a perfect addition to any Super Bowl Sunday snack spread or Taco Tuesday.
Later in life I was fortunate to study abroad in Japan and live with a host family that included grandparents of the World War II generation. While I hardly spoke Japanese, I spent hours with my adopted grandmother, “Baba”, over breakfast, after school tea, and dinner. Among my favorite dishes was her and my host mother’s “kabocha”, Japanese pumpkin, a type of winter squash with a hint of sweetness. I can still hear her voice welcoming me to breakfast and her heartwarming smile as she watched me eat the various small servings of fish, rice, soup, vegetables and finally the “kabocha”. As I finished, the words “oishi” (delicious) always followed and eventually “gochisousama deshita” (a polite expression of gratitude following a meal). With that we both knew it was time for me to head off to school.
Reflecting on the memories of dishes and meals shared, I can’t help but wonder what our grandparents would wish for us. Maybe something along the lines of what Alice Luiz Cook wrote in her cookbook, “May you enjoy every page and cook many of the recipes which have sustained me and my family for so many years.” Or perhaps their hope would be that we embrace their love of family, friends, neighbors and community, and pass the traditions on to the next generation.
And from a grandchild’s perspective, what would they recall of these moments? As Lola elaborated in her letter to her grandfather, “To me they are fond memories although there is no amount of pages that can hold all the memories I made with you. They will be cherished by me forever.” Beyond the meals, what she remembers is, “You lived a true and honest life and I can look up to you for that.”
Michele Cross is a lifelong outdoor enthusiast who counts paddleboarding on Nauset Marsh, fly fishing for striped bass on Brewster Flats, and hiking, among her favorite things to do on Cape Cod. She has lived in the U.S., Japan and Brazil, and eagerly embraces any opportunity to explore, engage and learn about history, cultures, languages and the arts. She enjoys creating dining experiences focused on locally sourced ingredients.
