As fall is now upon us, the days grow cooler, and the scent of kitchens fills the air. It is a season that draws us back to family tables, to recipes passed down through generations, and to the warmth that food and fellowship bring. Cooking becomes more than a task; it becomes a way of remembering, of handing on traditions, and of savoring the love that binds families together. It is in that spirit that the following reflection takes shape.
Yet, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.” Isaiah 64:8
The dough of our soul will be molded into His image by the hands of God, as foretold in Isaiah.
My grandmother, Nané, was a wonderful cook, and a visit to her home was a way to nourish my body and my spirit. She had the innate gift of being able to use the simplest of ingredients and transform them, with great passion and love, into the most delicious meals. She was my teacher, my Eli, and I, like Samuel, yearned to master her culinary skills and obtain her wisdom.
When I was tall enough to stand at her kitchen counter, I was ready to learn how to make the homemade ravioli—a tradition in our family for generations. I have fond memories of watching her carefully add water and oil to the mound of flour on her antique macaroni board to begin making the cheesy delight. It amazed me how she was able to determine the proper consistency of the dough simply by feeling it with her hands. Once the dough was no longer sticky, it was fed through her beloved macaroni machine and turned into perfectly formed sheets of pasta. My job was then to drop spoonfuls of the egg and ricotta cheese mixture onto the pasta sheets to create the ravioli. It took years of practice to know how much filling was enough, lest she tell me that the ravioli were coming out too “skimpy.”
In time, I also learned that if I didn’t seal the edges with enough egg wash before cutting them, the cheese oozed out of the ravioli and into the boiling water while they cooked. Disappointed by my efforts, my grandmother’s loving smile reassured me that it would get easier with practice and time.
As I grew older, I realized that Nané’s cooking lessons were less about the food that was being prepared and much more about spending time with her and feeling her love. Often, on Sunday evenings, the expanding family gathered in her tiny apartment and squeezed around her small dining table to break bread. We ate and listened to stories of our ancestors, much like the Apostles when they sat with Jesus at the Last Supper. They soaked in His unconditional love as He changed bread and wine into His body and blood.
At times, our human nature resists the changes that the Lord desires for us; we are sticky and cling to our old habits, like unworked dough. When we cultivate a relationship with Jesus through prayer, reflection, and spiritual devotion, His loving arms transform us, much like the bread and the ravioli dough. Our former selves, weighed down by anxiety, pride, and selfishness, become new, filled with patience, humility, and kindness. As St. Paul wrote in 2 Corinthians 5:17: “So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!”
When we put our trust in Jesus, we can be confident that He will guide us through the challenges of our life. He is never skimpy with the blessings and mercy that He bestows upon us. All He asks of us is to spend time with Him, to allow Him to transform our hearts into those filled with grace and peace. And like the child learning how to make ravioli, even when we falter, His love, like the cheese, oozes out all over us.
Editor’s Comment: We tried to persuade Sandra to share her Nané’s ravioli recipe, but to no avail!
By Sandra Grillo
Sandra is a retired community pharmacist. She and her husband, Wallace Gagnon, are communicants of The Cathedral of St. Patrick, where they serve as Lector and Eucharistic Minister.