The new Sven is a puppy. A puppy in a sixty-two-year-old grief house. The contrast is its own medicine. He chews everything. He pees on the rug. He has no concept of the sacredness of the kitchen. He runs through it like a tornado. He is not the first Sven. He is loud and goofy and embarrassing and entirely necessary. I love him completely.
Sophie is showing now. The baby is due in summer. She is naming her Ingrid. The name was a gift, given to me at the worst time, which is also the right time. Mamma would approve. Mamma did, in fact, know — Sophie told her in October, before Mamma's mind started slipping at the end. Mamma had cried. Mamma had said, "Sophie, that is the right thing." The right thing carries forward.
Gerald at the Damiano Center asked about Mamma. I said she was gone. He hugged me. The hug was longer than I expected. Gerald is a thoughtful man and not a hugger by inclination, and the hug from him was a weighted thing. He said, "Linda, my mother died when I was nine and I have missed her every day since." He said: "It does not stop. But it changes." I said: "I know." We kept ladling soup. Forty more bowls. The hug was over. The work continued.
Mamma is in hospice now. The home is good. The staff is kind. I visit daily. I bring food — though she eats less and less, the smell of the food is still received. I bring limpa bread. I bring her own meatballs (the recipe she taught me, returned to her by my hands). She holds my hand. She says the names: Pappa. Lars. Erik. Linda. Karin. Astrid. The names are the prayer. The prayer is what is left when the words go.
Thanksgiving is approaching. The brining starts on Tuesday. The pies start on Wednesday. The kitchen begins its annual reorganization for the bird — turkey out of the freezer to the cooler in the garage, fridge cleared for the brine cooler, the big roasting pan brought up from the basement, the carving knife sharpened, the gravy boat located (last seen on the top shelf of the pantry, where it lives all year except this one week). The kids are all coming. The house is going to be full. I am ready.
I cooked Glögg this week. Aging in the basement now. Tested and adjusted. Ready for December.
Damiano. The kitchen back-room I have known for over twenty years. The pot. The ladle. The faces. Gerald. The work continues. The work is the same work it has been since 2005. The continuity is, I think, the gift the Damiano Center gives me as much as the gift I give it. We hold each other up.
Erik's house is empty now. The Fifth Street house has been sold (the new owners are a young couple from Hermantown, they are kind, they have promised to take care of it; they will paint the walls and tear up the carpet and the kitchen will become someone else's kitchen and I have made my peace with this, mostly). Erik's own house in Lakeside is being cleared out. I helped on Saturday. I packed Erik's coffee mugs. I held one for a long minute. I put it in the box.
It is enough. It has to be. And on a morning like this, with the lake doing what the lake does and the dog at my feet and the bread on the counter and the kitchen warm enough to live in, it is. It is enough.
The Glögg is in the basement aging, and I won’t open it until December when the house fills back up — but the kitchen doesn’t wait for December, and neither does the need to put something warm and sweet in front of the people you love. This hot cocoa dip has become my bridge recipe, the thing I make in those late-November days when the turkey is done and the Glögg isn’t ready yet and the dog is underfoot and the house smells like bread and grief and something almost like ordinary joy. It is simple, which is the right thing for a week like this one. It is sweet. It is enough to share.
Easy Hot Cocoa Dip
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 5 minutes | Total Time: 15 minutes | Servings: 10
Ingredients
- 8 oz cream cheese, softened
- 1 cup powdered sugar
- 1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
- 1/4 cup hot cocoa mix (any variety)
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 1 1/2 cups whipped topping (such as Cool Whip), divided
- 1/2 cup mini marshmallows
- 2 tablespoons mini chocolate chips
- Graham crackers, pretzels, or strawberries for dipping
Instructions
- Beat the base. In a large mixing bowl, beat the softened cream cheese with a hand mixer on medium speed until smooth and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Scrape down the sides as needed.
- Add the cocoa. Add the powdered sugar, unsweetened cocoa powder, hot cocoa mix, and vanilla extract. Beat on low until combined, then increase to medium and mix until fully smooth and no lumps remain, about 2 minutes more.
- Fold in whipped topping. Gently fold in 1 cup of the whipped topping with a rubber spatula until just incorporated — don’t overmix or you’ll lose the lightness.
- Transfer and top. Spread the dip into a shallow serving bowl or dish. Dollop or spread the remaining 1/2 cup of whipped topping over the center. Scatter the mini marshmallows and mini chocolate chips over the top.
- Serve. Serve immediately with graham crackers, pretzels, or fresh strawberries. If making ahead, cover and refrigerate up to 24 hours — add the toppings just before serving.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 195 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 23g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 115mg
About the cook who shared this
Linda Johansson
Week 452 of Linda’s 30-year story
· Duluth, Minnesota
Linda is a sixty-three-year-old retired nurse from Duluth, Minnesota, living alone in the house where she raised her children and said goodbye to her husband. She lost Paul to ALS in 2020 after two years of watching the kindest man she'd ever known lose everything but his dignity. She cooks Scandinavian comfort food and Minnesota hotdish and the pot roast Paul loved, and she sets two places at the table out of habit because it makes her feel less alone. Every recipe she writes is a person she's loved.