Brown Betty everyday. Both set of grandparents always had tea. Everything stopped and we sat together for a short time. Not only was the grade of tea important but the container and cup. Going to the grocery store or the organic farm with gloves and masks seems strange. Walking into my local stores and seeing so many empty shelves feels odd. So as I read or listen to the news and try to process our world turned upside down, I turn to my Brown Betty. The ritual of making tea, the time together, and remembering those who have passed, seem comforting. Suddenly old recipes come to mind, my grandparents' use of condensed or evaporated milk, the memories of people who survived much worse for longer arise. My daughter and I are finding comfort in going through the family cookbooks where we find notes written in a late relatives hand. And these thoughts all came about because today, once again, I used our Brown Betty. ❤️
