22 November 2007
Happy Thanksgiving, Baby

Monica talked me into cooking Thanksgiving dinner. I haven’t cooked much since Bram left. I never was a good cook until I started cooking to make sure Bram stayed healthy. I have set fire to my kitchen twice, and then there was the the burning oil on the arm incident of 2006… I Know that I am prone to accidents in the kitchen if I am not careful. My mind keeps wandering off lately and I’m afraid to cook. I mean I find myself in a room and wonder, “Why am I here now?” “How did I get here?” I’ll be lecturing in class and realize I have no idea what I’m talking about anymore. My students are probably starting to think I’m a little bit crazy. So we’ve gone back to our pre-Bram diet: frozen , boxed, and canned food. Nick usually cooks. But today Monica felt we needed to have Thanksgiving and she helped me cook. No turkey, though. I don’t know how to make a turkey. That was Bram’s job. Before he moved in with us, we always had ham for Thanksgiving. Bram couldn’t accept that. He said Thanksgiving means turkey; even if you don’t like turkey, you must eat it today. So he always cooked the turkey.

Bram was a great cook. When he first moved in with us and experienced our diet, he started cooking meals for us. He started teaching me to cook. I think it was the first time my kids realized food doesn’t come only from boxes and cans. Back then, Bram cooked most of our meals and insisted we all sit down at the table at the same time and eat together. He made such a difference in our lives.

Later when Bram got so sick, and ended up in the hospital, I took over cooking duties. I altered recipes to be more healthy for Bram. But there were still things Bram cooked for us—his specialties—because while I became pretty decent at cooking italian, indian, mexican, and American “home-cooked” food, I never could get the hang of Asian food. Or steak. Or chili.

Bram loved steak and he cooked the bests steaks I have ever tasted. I didn’t allow him beef very often (trying to keep his cholesterol down), but we had it once or twice a month. Steak day was his day to cook. He went at it like a scientist, looking for the optimal sauce, cooking time, and heat. He would try new methods and write down everything he did as he went, so he could compare notes and improve every time. He had a special steak pan and lots of odd little ingredients for sauces and toppings to cook the steak in. As we started making more money and could afford better cuts of beef, his steaks got more and more amazing. My mouth waters just thinking about it. We had steaks in the frige for him to cook the day he died.

Bram could make a damn good stir-fry, too. I don’t think he ever had a recipe; he just made it up as he went along. His stir-fry never tasted the same way twice, but it always tasted wonderful. He taught Nick to stir-fry, too. I couldn’t learn—going in without a plan was too much for me. Bram also took regular old comfort foods like spaghetti, chili, stew, or meatloaf and put his own spin on them so they were better than before. He could take any of my recipes and make them taste better by using spices without fear. Sometimes I came up with inedible disasters in the kitchen, but Bram never did.

I still miss Bram terribly. I think I’m still waiting for him to come home. I can’t believe he’s gone. I can’t believe he left without me.

thought by Bram Davidson around 7:05 PM
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