A Family Recipe
By Brittany Purvis
@purvisbrittany
4.8 Stars out of 5, with over 70 reviews
This crockpot recipe is a winner! With robust flavors and complex undertones, you can look forward to the tenderness of this slow cooking method. Tailor your recipe to the available ingredients and the level of spice your family members prefer.
Ingredients:
2 subscriptions to eHarmony
1 bald, divorcee father
1 daughter, age five
1 woman, with geriatric uterus
8 months of dating
1 impromptu courthouse ceremony
1 cooperative ex-wife
5 doting grandparents
2 prayed-for siblings (add in later)
Step One: Buy a cookbook. One drunken New Year’s Eve, join eHarmony.
Step Two: Flip through the pages. Look at the glossy photos and think about cooking. You donated all your cookbooks after several failed recipes left a bitter taste in your mouth. The ones you burned and tossed in the trash. The ones who burned you and tossed you in the trash. And the final failure, the one who diluted your abilities and self-worth.
Question whether you even know how to boil a potato. Everyone else makes it look so easy. Close the book and give up. Have I expired? Have I spoiled?
Reopen the book. You still hold onto hope: to find joy in cooking.
Step Three: Pick out a recipe and practice cooking. Warm up to the idea of sampling new and different cuisines. Through trial and error, learn to use all five of your senses to determine the flavor profile of the dish.
Salty? Pass. Dry? Nope. Spicy? Bye.
Step Four: Repeat for two years. Renew subscription to eHarmony. Discover which ingredients can be substituted and which demand the best money can buy. Learn to trust your palate. Believe you deserve a mouthwatering, close-your-eyes-savor-the-goodness, 3-star Michelin meal.
Step Five: Find a favorite dish. Meet him at a bike race. He is in spandex; you are in running clothes and a Nike hat. Date one: drinks. Date two: bike ride. Date three: dinner. Date four: close your eHarmony profile because you know he is the one.
Step Six: Select a showcase ingredient. Meet his daughter. Gently fold in an interest into her favorite books, TV shows, ballet, and board games. Do not overmix. Allow ample space for lots of father-daughter time. Sprinkle in meaningful outings at the children’s museum and zoo that result in robust laughter and fun.
Let the idea of spending the night rest until she asks for a sleepover. Render all corrections of behavior to her dad. Help her pick out Christmas and birthday gifts for her mom. Layer in subtle hints of your growing love during each visit. Hold hands, skip together, pepper in goodbye hugs.
Step Seven: Sear your heart onto his. Ask him to marry you. You know this goes against what you’ve been taught to do with family recipes, but you have years of experimentation in the kitchen. By this time, you know exactly what you want.
Propose to him on a Saturday night and say “I do” at the courthouse three days later. It feels equal parts spontaneous and “just right.” Like knowing you need only one more dash of salt. You find him light and tender, with a depth and vibrance you have never experienced before.
Sell your condo. Move in together. Commute over an hour each way for work.
Step Eight: Prepare the sauce. Attend marriage therapy with your new husband. Aspire to rewrite the family recipe that was handed down to you by your divorced parents.
Step Nine: Slowly add in time with his ex-wife. Learn about the technique of emulsion.
Emulsion (noun):
“Two liquids that normally don’t like to mix together or dissolve give up and join together.”
“(It) is like a temporary peace treaty between fat and water.” —Samin Nosrat [1]
Process the benefits of creating a new liquid with a thicker consistency and well-balanced flavor.
Whisk together oil (husband) and vinegar (ex-wife). Become the emulsifier to stabilize the new mixture. Think of yourself as Grey Poupon in the family vinaigrette.
Anticipate for the breaking of the concoction. The shelf life is only one to two weeks. Keep attending marriage therapy to stay sane. Learn to fix broken emulsions. Start over when needed. Step out of the kitchen and use store-bought when required. When ready, strongly whisk to bring the ingredients back together.
Step Ten: Caramelize your love. Combine with husband and ex-wife for daughter’s school, social, and extracurricular activities. Continue to stir slowly. Pay attention so the mixture doesn’t burn.
Listen to his daughter announce to her friends, “This is my Brittany.” Notice how your uncertainty evaporates and identity concentrates. Introduce yourself as “Bonus Mom.” Watch your love intensify and sweeten. Rich. Warm. Gooey.
Step Eleven: Drizzle in extended family. Begin joint birthdays and holiday celebrations. Add in the five doting grandparents. Refer to them as her “village.”
Step Twelve: Incorporate two younger siblings. Try to get pregnant for two years, which feels like waiting for water to boil. Wrap a picture of sonogram for his daughter and present it as a gift. Include her in midwife appointments. Draw funny faces on fruit to show how large the baby is growing. Have her meet her brother hours after birth. Repeat for the birth of sister, three years later. Ensure all family pictures in the home include all three children.
Step Thirteen: Taste, Taste, Taste. Routinely spoon out. Season. Ask for help. Don’t be afraid to adjust as necessary.
Step Fourteen: Set on low and simmer for a lifetime. You can’t guarantee the outcome, but you can be confident gentle heat will allow the fullness and layers of flavor to shine.
Pinch your fingers together. Bring them to your lips. Kiss the satisfaction into the air.
Chef’s note: This recipe can sometimes feel overwhelming. That doesn’t mean you're doing it wrong. Trust the process. You are the secret sauce!
[1] Nosrat, Samin. 2017. Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat. Simon and Schuster.
Guest essay written by Brittany Purvis. Brittany lives in Indiana with her blended family of five. She is a LCSW and Parent Coach who believes in the power of co-regulation, the strength of connection, and the beauty of repair. She also admits to yelling at her kids, stealing their holiday candy, and even threatening to cancel Christmas. She writes about her own imperfect parenting journey so others can feel seen in theirs. Follow her stories on Instagram.
Photo by Jennifer Floyd.