The cookbook brought back memories of me at seven, dumping chocolate chips into dough and scooping the cookies onto a baking sheet while my mom watched with a serene smile. Memories of her jotting a new recipe she found in some magazine she bought as an impulse buy at the supermarket. “This one would be perfect for your father’s 50th birthday!” she’d said of some incredibly intricate cake with multiple layers and homemade fondant. I remember that one most of all because we never tested that recipe. She was gone before his 50th birthday.
