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My husband’s life is heavily influenced by his elderly grandparents. Now in their late eighties, they were just in their middle fifties when they took over the care and feeding of their grandson on weekdays.

His parents divorced, and the childcare agreement worked out between his parents meant that gram and pop would watch my husband after school and feed him an early dinner while his mother and father worked.

Before I ever met her, gram was legendary. The best cook. The best housekeeper. The best laundress.

The best of everything.

Really, it is like having two mother-in-laws. I know, aren’t I lucky?

I don’t have grandparents. They are all dead, and were remote at best even while they lived. On my mom’s side, they were already old when I was born; my grandmother was 42 when she had my mom, and my grandfather was already exhibiting the symptoms of manic-depression that would lead to much distress in our family in the years to come.

On my dad’s side, my grandmother was very young, just 15 when my dad was born. But she and her second husband lived two states away, a nearly insurmountable trip for our family of five. They lived in a very small house, and there wasn’t room for all of us.

Meeting my husband’s gram was both intimidating and puzzling. Why was this such an important milestone for our relationship? She was just a grandmother.

We traveled to Ohio one chilly October weekend early in our time together. The intent was to take in a football game at my husband’s high school and meet the important people in his life.

My first meeting with gram was awkward at best. I didn’t know how to interact with people who were so old. In turn, she found me suspect, very protective of her grandson and very fond of his last girlfriend, who’s been around for six years.

It wasn’t until several visits later that we found our common ground.

Gram is an excellent baker. With more than 70 years experience in the kitchen, she has hundreds of recipes in her head, all of which result in some very tasty treats. And what she doesn’t have in her head, she has in the cookbooks she’s collected over the years.

I have a collection of vintage cookbooks, ranging from depression-era recipes to a flamboyant guide to entertaining minted in the seventies. My favorites are those from the mid-century, calling for lard and canned potatoes.

I noted gram’s collection, and asked her to tell me the best way to replicate her stellar French onion dip when I got home. The rest is history, reflected a series of recipes written on purple paper and tucked into a notebook I keep in my kitchen.

Just this week my husband was craving cheesecake, and so I pulled out the recipe for gram’s cheese pie. When I called her to ask which size pan I should use, I heard happy surprise in her voice when she answered.

I may not have my own grandparents, but I do have gram.

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Cheese Pie

Graham Cracker Crust

1 1/4 C crushed graham crackers
3 TBS sugar
5 TBS melted butter

Combine ingredients and mix until crumbs are moistened. Bake in an 8X8 pan at 350-degrees for eight minutes. Cool, then chill.

Cheese Filling

8 oz cream cheese, softened
1/2 C sugar
1 C sour cream
8 oz whipped topping

Beat cheese until smooth. Add sugar and blend in sour cream. Fold in whipped topping. Pour mixture into chilled crust and refrigerate overnight.

[tags]parents, parenting, kids, children, grandparents, cooking, recipes, love, food, relationships, Ohio[/tags]
Photo graciously provided by Mermaniac, through a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved