Portland in the Fall

This blog is called Memoir Munchies for so many reasons.

Yes, it’s silly and an alliteration (oo, big word) and kind of rolls off my tongue. But it’s more than that.

You see, I identify as a few things…wife, daughter, niece, friend…but I also identify as a minister, helper, justice card-carrying member of this world…at least I try. I do love food…food and love make the world go round, of course…but food also (often) leads to stories. And I have so many stories in my brain and heart. Many stories are tied to a person or persons that have come in (and sometimes out) of my life at various times. Their words are powerful, their hearts unique, but their stories and lessons are what are imprinted upon me. I’ve put a lot of oatmeal recipes on this blog (I do love oats!) but, the truth is, people like Chuck and Teri, Gaynor and Mike, those people are the ones I should be writing more about.

It’s not that I can’t physically write their stories down (duh) or that these stories are of a sensitive nature (I can de-identify and anonymousize with the best of them), but it takes a lot of courage for me to do their stories justice. Their words are powerful and their lessons ground-breaking, and I’m relying on my little brain to recount their stories well enough to share with you wonderful world wide webbers! It’s a lot of pressure.

Portland in the summer

But I’ll try. I’ll continue to write about pancakes and my ridiculous tendency to make everything into an omelette or my lifelong hurdle to make a truly healthy cookie. Nothing brings the kind of joy as discovering how to peel an entire bulb of garlic in 15 seconds or how to properly whip egg whites into all of their stages. There’s nothing like the feeling of creating your own recipe without anything but your creativity as a guide, but there’s no reason that can’t carry through as I recount the life recipes of these storytellers’ tales. I can do both and, for some reason, I knew this 5 years ago when I named this blog but never fully “got it” as I wrote away. I blame it on distraction of sweet treats. 🙂 So I hope you enjoy the read as I expand my content a little. I’ve got a lot to say, not because I’m particularly interesting, but because I don’t want their stories to end and die with me. Their stories must live on, and -oh, I guess- I’ll do my best to make that happen, in between bites of macaroons.

Happy reading.

Laurel

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