Eat, Darling, Eat 

​The origins of a family tradition may be forgotten, but not its enduring importance.

An ecumenical Christmas, with a cranberry relish that made Mom famous.

​From the South of France, Mom (or Maman, en français) and her nose for truffles lead to a new business--and the world's most luxurious Christmas breakfast.

Even when the childhood fable has lost its luster, even when the holiday celebration must change, a family tradition is honored.

With the pancakes of any culture, Mom is always the last to eat, or takes the smallest portion.

A common dilemma: mothers, mothers-in-law, and the competition about who gets whom for the holidays (but one of them has vichyssoise).

Memory is mutable when it comes to Mom and Chinese cooking—a perspective with clarity and heart.

A legacy of recipes is a tribute to both a hometown and a globe-trotting life.

How not to baste a turkey.

A wacky Thanksgiving with a well-meaning mom--but is the turkey stuffed or dressed?

A culinary tradition is a loving bond over generations.

One daughter has her hands on the rolling pin; the other is the taste-tester. And the kitchen is citrus-scented.

The most humble of meals nourishes and unites in Italy.

From Soviet-era bread lines to pastries in Hollan—

an odyssey of keeping old traditions and creating new ones for a young daughter.

How to handle a picky eater—one mother's trick.

Preserved along with frosting drips in the pages of an eclectic Southern recipe book, a life well-lived.

Kitchen duties changed when Mom went back to work.

​Food is a metaphor for the sweet and the sour of a mother-daughter relationship in Greece.

Glamour, joy, status—or maybe not.

A Dartmouth student reflects on the nourishment of her mother’s garden (and not just from the vegetables).

She didn’t look like her mother (or, really, anybody she knew), but the aroma from the kitchen meant love and safety.

​When dad was away, mom and daughter would play--a dinner party just for two.

A memory of the irresistible Slovenian pancakes called palačinke, and a mother who learned English from American TV.

A priceless image of a mom channeling Peg Bundy--along with her unusual topping for waffles.

​The answer to battling in-laws? Pounding pork chops.

Secrets, lies, and spring rolls—two sisters make peace with their history, and make delicious Filipino food.

Mrs. Avashia, newly arrived from India, bonded with Mrs. Bupp, Mrs. Warren, Mrs. Rosenberg, and Mrs. McGovern over (what else?) food. 

You might not be making “lapsha" unless you’re feeding a crowd, but the story of conflicting cultures, assimilation, and sacrificial love will resonate.

Some people respond to grief by pulling the bed covers over their head. Others find comfort in organization and duty (and a mean mocha cake).

A mother’s message to “remember where you came from” has an unusual delivery system.

There’s a moral code to Moroccan cuisine, scented with mint and honey and fresh yeast.

Mom: disciplined, elegant, skinny.
Daughter: not so much.
Fun ensues.

Motherhood substitutes for a life on the stage--plus there are really good chocolate chip cookies.

The masterful mix of a hostess who knew that food was secondary.

A mother who cleverly figured out how to stay in bed, and a meditation on French toast.

A brutally honest woman tells how her mother prepared her for facing life’s adversities, but really, really not in the way you might think.

The joy of cooking was evident but not easily expressed.

​An immigration story that takes us from Czechoslovakia to Ecuador to America—and from goulash to ceviche to Jell-O.

​A mom who thought the miracle of the microwave might change her harried life.

Selling meringues in the snow, and a recipe left to memory.

A town where everybody knows your name and Mom’s kitchen garden is surrounded by marigolds—memories of a childhood in coal-mining country.

She was Christopher’s mother on "The Sopranos," but her real-life “Ma” handled church dogma and cooking with similar irreverence.

One mom commands peace among querulous siblings at the dinner table...with stuffed cabbage.

A daughter learns about diligence, creativity, and imperfection—via cookies.

A mother’s love plus a legacy from 9/11 combine to make a young woman’s dreams come true, and A Chocolate Factory Grows in Harlem.

The lingering smell of Chanel, a pineapple surprise for dessert, and memories of a mother’s culinary collections and curiosities.

Appreciation for a mother who couldn’t spend time imparting kitchen wisdom or recipes because she was desperately needed elsewhere.

A pear tree (no partridge), buckwheat pancakes with gravy, and a mom who went to work.

The renowned author of Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day shares her recipe for chicken schnitzel.

What's it like to have a mother who's a fabulous cook but could be a candidate for the "Hoarders" show?

The tribulations of a "picky eater." Plus an exotic miso-glazed doughnut.

Barbecued chicken in the driveway, Elizabeth Arden red lipstick, and Roy Cohn (yes, that Roy Cohn).

Whether you're kissing, missing, or dissing Mom, a collection of anecdotes for the holiday.

A celebrated chef still includes Mom’s dishes in her restaurants.

How to make twins feel special and unique? Separate birthday cakes.

It's not easy to dismiss maternal rules and wisdom--about eggs or anything else.

What happens when Mom confesses an indiscretion? A cinematic wartime story that ends with chocolate mousse.

A Samoan princess never cooks (who knew?) so her daughter poured ketchup over meals of dubious distinction. 

Learning that it's cool to be "ethnic."

A long shadow is cast by a mother’s culinary prowess.

The five DeSanto sisters—Olympia, Margaret, Frances, Blanche, and Josephine—all made Easter pizza, but Josie made the best.

In one of life's ironic full circles, a daughter teaches her mother to cook.

From an arranged marriage in the old country to a tight budget in America, a family thrives--with love and pot roast.

A Passover celebration taken straight from the Encyclopedia Britannica. Plus there’s Matzoh Crack.

Butter and ballet and books, a yellow Chambers stove, and a dinner table where the food was incidental to the conversation.

Mom's hot dogs and canned peas did not bode well for a daughter's kitchen prowess.

Mom was not a cook, but she had standards.

​Peering over Mom's shoulder, a lesson in tradition--and squid.

​Nurturing the development of a cook, even when Mom wasn't one herself.

Gender roles were clearly defined, and part of the marital bargain, even when a mother's mental health was fragile.

Sharing a favorite comfort food makes it possible to have a difficult conversation.

She could run but she couldn't hide from a begrudged, but ultimately beloved, tradition.

Mom's remarriage means bacon and eggs convert to bagels and lox.

Calamity can lead to creativity, and other tenets of a culinary philosophy shared by mother and daughter.

Calamity can lead to creativity, and other tenets of a culinary philosophy shared by mother and daughter.

A new bride, famous for her boiled water, figures out how to feed a family.