This week we had a bake sale at work to benefit a charity that one of my coworkers supports. There’s a group of us that like to bake so she always recruits us to make baked goods to donate for the sale. This time I decided to make peanut butter fudge, but not just any peanut butter fudge. I pulled out the recipe that I’ve been using since I was 13 years old just to make sure it was extra good. As soon as I pulled out that battered and stained community cookbook, I was a kid again mixing fudge in my mom’s old Club aluminum red stock pot. My mom never hovered while I was in the kitchen and she always made me feel capable and a little grown up. I always loved her for that. As I looked through that old cookbook I saw the names of people that have long since passed away but part of them will live on forever in this little book. Sharing recipes that they loved and used to nourish their families for years was an act of love and generosity. I can’t think of a better way to be remembered.