Domestic Goddess Training

One could not grow up in a strict Mennonite home without paying homage to the domestic goddess ideal. Little girls were raised to be creative mothers, loving wives, sew their family's clothes, keep a spotless house, and entertain crowds at the drop of a hat. And then there was the food! It was garden-harvested, plentiful, always homemade, sometimes decadent as a yeasty cinnamon roll, oozing nuts and brown sugar, nestled under a blanket of cream cheese frosting, and meant to be shared. Food provided the framework for much of family life and interaction within the subculture.

This was my youthful paradigm. Given that "half ass" has never been encrypted on my DNA, I aspired to the dreams available. I sewed doll clothes on my Mom's Singer machine at the age of 8. By teen years, I was making all of my own Mennonite dresses. Bursting at the seams for creative outlets, I would cut up my brothers' old jeans and sew denim, zippered pencil holders. I loved learning and excelled in my little Mennonite school, but longed for education beyond those fences. I would have sold my soul to play some sort of organized sport, but that was not permitted. And of course, I cooked and baked. I realized very early how gratifying it was to serve beautiful food to family and friends. It fed my soul on a deep level to see the pleasure and nourishment I had created.

Sometimes I wonder what my dreams would have been if I had been hatched in another nest and learned to fly in a different flock. I guess that question is one anyone could ask, but you only know what you know. I have become a domestic goddess by default and it has brought me much joy! Last week, there were nine friends devouring meatballs and spaghetti at my round, kitchen table. Someone asked, "how many will fit around your table?" Without hesitation I replied, "one more." I cherish the hospitality that is forged in my Mennonite genes. (I didn't wear jeans until I was 25, but that is another story).

For several years, my husband and kids have been nudging me to write and share my recipes and stories, that gifts are meant to be opened and enjoyed. I've been reluctant, but I seem to have things to say. I guess I'm a lot like my favorite Monster Cookie: flourless and modest, but textured and healthful and sweet. And you just never know what color of M & M's will show up for the occasion!