Baking for Heartbreak

Bringing a real deal apple pie to fruition

As I look back through these posts, I see a common theme of laughing and snickering my way through the things that go right (and sometimes wrong) on this journey known as the joy of cooking.

Here on this blog, I've talked about knife cuts and bad burns in pastry school. Held my tongue when I wanted to say something crushing. Praised good books you'd find most helpful. I've poked fun at myself and even revealed the flour up and down my arms when making croissants. If there was a chance for a pun or a self-made putdown, I frosted it onto the page, all for the purpose of smiling through the messes I make.

When my friend Jeanne Ambrose came out with a cookbook called "Heartbreak Recovery Kitchen," I embraced it for the cleverness of her approach. She weaves good vinaigrette with thoughtful vignettes from a talented circle of writers who talk about life's hurts, how to heal with food and the way to move forward. I thought of the book in terms of heartbreaks on a small scale - like losing your job, your friend, your home. It even makes a good Valentine's Day book; it's not a volume to open wide and commence weeping.

I didn't expect to email her in the middle of the night to say "emergency, which Heartbreak Recovery recipe is good for a family experiencing the loss of a child?" This hurt is so deep that the only way to breathe through it is to think about recipes I can leave on the family's doorstep. I've turned to food because it gives me something to offer when words and sentiments fall terribly short.

Homemade bread says "I care," as does a hearty soup that freezes well. I like a pie like the one shown above because the power of apple pie is long established. After all these years of flippancy in the food world, it seems incredible I'm just now thinking about what foods best express sorrow.

What, after all, is the essence of comfort food?

Jeanne suggests I make a big batch of lemon chicken lasagna.