Sweet Dreams
February 21, 2010
by Donna Pierce

When I include hearing Randy Pauch’s “Last Lecture, Achieving Your Childhood Dreams” among my life-changing moments, it’s because the televised address made in 2008, by the dying Carnegie Melon professor, served as my high-pitched wake-up call, a reminder that life has no guarantees. It was time to dust off the unfulfilled dream for which I had a decade of research locked away in storage.

“If not now…when?” I said to everyone who questioned my early plans to focus full-time on African-American cooks. But mostly I said it to myself… a lot…when the path seemed scary.

So many blocks seemed to appear when I first rekindled the dream of a website to honor today’s African-American home cooks, food writers and chefs, as well as Black cooks and food writers who came before me, that I would have given up again except for Pauch’s profound second message that still makes me cry with relief when I read it taped to my computer:

“Brick walls are there for a reason. The brick walls are not there to keep us out. Brick walls give us a chance to show how badly we want something…”

I read the message aloud while on hold when I made reservations for my first hands-on digital conference sponsored by the National Association of Black Journalists in Nashville (Thank you, Sybril and Val).

And several months later, I could recite Pauch’s quote from memory when I stood in

the Michigan Avenue Apple store converting from my PC safety zone, determined to learn everything I could about websites and blogs.

This week, while spreading the news about the launch (the Beta stays up until the family cookbook portion launches) of Black America Cooks website, I’ve heard myself describing the website as a “dream come true” more than a few dozen times.

I don’t take this lightly.

No better phrase describes the process of watching my life’s work suddenly coming together the same way flour and oil magically smooth into a thick brown roux after what feels like an eternity of unrewarded stirring.

I’m well aware that I’m just in the beginning stage of what promises to be a complicated recipe.

But just for the moment, I’ve stepped back from the stove to admire this amazing roux for which I had almost lost hope.

So what’s ahead? I don’t know.

Everyone is welcome to scroll through these pages for a big family feast where we honor our ancestors, preserve memories for our children and continue the tradition of sharing delicious recipes.

I’m writing this today to remind anyone stirring a dream that may at this moment seem impossible not to give up before the miracle comes.

Just remember, before Pausch passed away the July after the lecture, he gave great advice about making dreams come true…

”You can’t get there alone.”

I know this to be true because I just experienced it. Everyone reading BlackAmericaCooks.com during the launch has helped in some way….including clicking to this page. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

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Click here to bookmark “The Last Lecture” on YouTube.

Creole and Cajun cuisine, popular in southern Louisiana and cities bordering the Gulf of Mexico, have more commonalities than differences. Creole cooking comes from New Orleans, Mobile and cities along the coast. Cajun food is from outlying areas in southern Louisiana and is more robust.

I have been a grateful trustee of my grandmother’s love and knowledge of food. On the Fat Tuesday after her funeral, almost 12 years ago, I invited 40 people to my house and in her honor cooked some of her favorite recipes.

It was the first time she was not a phone call away, but I felt her presence in the kitchen. Prepping, cooking, serving and shopping for food provided the framework of our relationship.

During more than 30 years as her prep cook, I learned more than culinary skills at her side. 

I learned that quality counts, but it doesn’t have to cost more; mistakes aren’t fatal, and often, they are the best lessons; laughter and a sense of humor make any job easier; it’s better to take your time and do a job right the first time; and to trust your intuition.

When my grandmother taught me to cook, more than recipes were shared.

This is how Sattahapi "rolls"

“Roll Calls”
January 31, 2010
By Donna Pierce

I awakened yesterday before dawn and rushed into the kitchen to pull out my ceramic bowl reserved for batters and doughs. Even before coffee, the sight of my hands lowering the heavy white bowl down from the cabinet made me smile.

“Good morning,” I said.

To an outside observer this greeting may have appeared directed to an empty kitchen. But that was not the case.

My heartfelt “Good Morning” was intended to the family cooks who had baked before me, themselves occasionally shivering in early morning kitchens intent on getting a rise out of yeast, water, shortening, eggs, milk, butter and flour.

Yesterday, I imagined a few ancestors smiling with approval while I worked from the passed-down recipe for southern yeast rolls I have come to regard as our edible family’ emblem.

For me, more than any other recipe, the rolls symbolize a living bond linking generations.

Because mastering this simple recipe for feather-soft rolls depends on observation and practice, I often include it in demonstrations and classes, such as the one planned this week at Chicago’s World Kitchen, a city-operated cooking school offering culinary sessions to highlight Chicago’s diverse cultural heritage.

This class, which includes hands-on instruction about the joys of biscuits, cornbread, bread pudding and other quick breads, coincides with the launch of my website, dedicated to the professional and family cooks who keep the fires burning with dishes blending our African heritage with many other cultures.

BlackAmericaCooks.com is a dream-come-true for me. But that’s not why I awakened before sunrise Saturday. The prompt to pull down the mixing bowl had come from a very small voice on the other end of a telephone held by her grandmother. “I love you Aunt Donna.”

“I love you, too, Satthapi,” I had answered, adding, “What are you doing?”

“I’m thinking about rolls,” she said. “Do you have any?”

“No, but I’ll bake some for you in the morning,” I answered. “

“Can I make, too?” she asked

Next time you visit,” I said.

At 2, Satthapi already exhibits early signs of passion and appreciation my grandmother described as prerequisites for becoming entrusted with the recipe.“Every generation produces one or two real bakers,” my grandmother had said after I begged her to teach me how to bake rolls. ” I learned from your great-grandmother who learned from her grandmother.There are no recruits. It’s more like a calling,” she said.

I didn’t understand the pleasure she must have found in my standing at her elbow in the kitchen until the day another niece, Alexis, now 6, tugged at my apron before I pulled up a stool to make room for the then-toddler, the way my grandmother had done for me. Placing my hands over hers I gently pushed down.

“Press dough this softly to make soft rolls,” I added, using my grandmother’s exact words during a lesson Alexis and I still repeat whenever we’re together.

I thought about this lesson yesterday, while pressing down risen dough for Satthapi’s rolls before shaping them for the second rise.

Alone in the kitchen, I noticed the first ray of morning sun reflected in the kitchen mirror.

Thinking about future lessons for Satthapi and Alexis patterned after my grandmother’s teaching me, I imagined a feather-light flutter of generations of loving hands over mine..reminding me our family rolls were, indeed, being passed down./dp