By The cookbook advance copies arrived. A box. On the porch. Delivered by a mail carrier who had no idea that the box he left on my doorstep contained my mother's life and my life and thirty years of recipes and a Folgers can on the cover and Zoe's magnolia on page three and everything I've been building since 2 AM on a February night when I wrote the introduction with tears on my face.
I opened the box in the kitchen. Alone. I wanted to be alone for this. I cut the tape. I lifted the lid. I reached in. I pulled out the book. "From Brenda's Kitchen: Soul Food for the Long Haul." My name underneath. Mama's name in the title. Zoe's illustration on the cover — the Folgers can, worn and dented and beautiful, on a kitchen counter with a magnolia branch in the background. I held it. I turned the pages. I smelled it — that new-book smell that is ink and paper and possibility. I read the first line of the introduction: "My mother taught me that love is not a feeling. Love is a meal."
I sat at the kitchen table — the Cascade Heights table, the forever table — and I held Mama's book and I wept. Not grief tears. Not joy tears. Both tears. The tears that live at the intersection of loss and triumph, where the dead and the living share the same moment and the moment is a book and the book is a can of spices and the can of spices is a woman who died on Easter Sunday and asked her daughter not to stop cooking.
I didn't stop, Mama. I didn't stop. And here's the proof. Here, in my hands, in our kitchen, in our neighborhood. A book. Your book. Our book. I didn't stop.
Curtis held it. He held it with his one good hand and he looked at the cover and he ran his thumb across the Folgers can and he said nothing for a long time. Then he said, "Brenda's book." Yes, Daddy. Brenda's book.
The Folgers can is on the cover of the book — worn and dented and beautiful, the same can that sat on Mama’s counter for thirty years holding her spice blends, her secrets, her whole way of moving through a kitchen. So after I set the book down and let myself cry and held it again, I went to the counter and I made coffee. Not because I needed caffeine. Because I needed to stand in that kitchen and do something with my hands that felt like her. This hazelnut coffee — rich and nutty and just a little sweet — is what I made on the morning the book arrived, and it’s what I’ll make every time I need to remember that some things, once built, cannot be taken back.
Hazelnut Coffee
Prep Time: 5 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 15 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 4 cups cold filtered water
- 1/2 cup ground dark roast coffee (medium-fine grind)
- 3 tablespoons hazelnut-flavored coffee creamer (liquid or powder)
- 2 tablespoons chocolate hazelnut spread (such as Nutella), optional for extra richness
- 1 tablespoon sugar, or to taste
- 1/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
- Pinch of cinnamon
- Whipped cream, for topping (optional)
- Crushed toasted hazelnuts, for garnish (optional)
Instructions
- Brew the coffee. Add the ground dark roast coffee to your drip coffee maker or pour-over filter. Pour 4 cups of cold filtered water through and brew as usual until you have a full, strong pot.
- Warm the flavoring. While the coffee brews, measure the hazelnut creamer, vanilla extract, sugar, and cinnamon into a small saucepan over low heat. Stir gently for 2—3 minutes until the sugar dissolves and the mixture is warm and fragrant. Do not boil.
- Combine. Pour the hot brewed coffee into the saucepan with the hazelnut mixture, or stir the mixture directly into your coffee carafe. If using the chocolate hazelnut spread, whisk it in now until fully melted and incorporated.
- Taste and adjust. Stir well and taste. Add more sugar or creamer to your preference. The coffee should be warm, nutty, and gently sweet — not overpowering.
- Serve. Pour into your favorite mugs. Top with a dollop of whipped cream and a pinch of crushed toasted hazelnuts if desired. Serve immediately while hot.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 85 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 3g | Carbs: 13g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 40mg