Mom’s Big Brownie Mission
What began as baking for the troops became a lesson in love, anxiety, hope, and the emotional power of cooking I later came to know as Cooking Therapy.
As we reflect on Memorial Day, this story felt especially meaningful to revisit - a reminder that sometimes love shows up wrapped in aluminum foil and packed carefully into a shoebox…
When I was eight years old my brother went to Vietnam, and my mother set about what would later be known as Mom’s Big Brownie Mission or Mom’s Big BM (no reflection on the brownies I swear).
This meant that she basically endeavored to provide the entire US Army stationed within satellite distance of Saigon with homemade brownies.
The North Vietnamese had their Hanoi Hannah, and my brother and his buddies had mom, aka Gourmet Gayle (okay her name was really Estelle, but I didn’t like the sound of Epicurean Estelle).
More importantly, I was her sidekick, and it became clear to me very early on in the project that this was about much more than making brownies. It was about sending baked bites of love and safety to my brother and the troops; the responsibility was intense but also empowering.
At eight, your mind is open to the most fantastical delusions; if I was dutiful, vigilant, and vigorous in all steps, then somehow my brother would come to no harm.
This was before the days of Kitchen Aid and microwaves and we had to let the butter soften to room temp on its own, then cream it with the sugar via our own elbow grease; my least favorite job but the one I thought most important.
Perhaps I was unconsciously subscribing to the ‘no pain, no gain’ theory without even knowing it.
I only knew that in my Magical Thinking I equated my efforts with how safe my brother would be; if I slacked off, he might suffer a wound and should the batter not be totally smooth it might be even worse. And because the recipe only made sixteen brownies (8×8 square pan) and my mother was quadrupling the recipe for each of two pans, this creaming was quite a feat.
In fact, what’s the word for multiplying a recipe time eight? Octupling?
No, I think it’s called ‘nuts’. No pun.
That said, it was after the brownies were done that the real work began.
My mother insisted that each brownie be wrapped individually, first in plastic wrap, then in aluminum foil, and layered into shoeboxes with the precision of a master mason or the crossword editor for The New York Times.
Have you ever ripped 126 little sheets of plastic wrap off the roll? Let me put it this way; have you ever had 126 tiny paper cuts? But it was all okay, my brother was fighting in a war, the least I could do was shed a few drops of blood for the cause.
When the brownies went off my mother always had a little bit of a cry; what I like to call Post-pastry Depression.
I think that if she was cooking, like me, she was somehow actively doing something to safeguard her little boy, and the minute the job was done she went back to a passive role; to that frightening state without control.
As a therapist, when I cook with some of my clients I know that these principles are clinically legitimate; when cooking there is power and determinism, at least in terms of the recipe at hand.
No matter how bad your day, your relationship, or your health, you can achieve success every time you read a recipe, haul out the ingredients, and do the job.
In this way, people dealing with anxiety, depression, or a variety of issues, can improve how they feel, a little or a lot, by cooking. And who knows? My brother did come home safely, thank God, and just maybe mom and I had a little something to do with it.
And let’s not forget the chocolate. As everyone knows, there isn’t anything that can’t be helped by chocolate.
Often I’ll honor my mom, who is no longer here, as I always do, by making her brownies. But I will use the microwave and the KitchenAid Stand Mixer. I know she’ll approve. How could she not? No matter the utensils, I’ll still be sending her bite-size bits of love and connection.
Estelle’s Brownies for the Troops
Ingredients
1 Cup Butter (2 sticks) softened, not melted.
2 Cup Sugar
4 Eggs
4 Squares Good Unsweetened Chocolate melted (4 oz.)
1.5 Cups Sifted Self-rising Flour
1 tsp. Vanilla
1 Cup Walnuts (optional)
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour 2 8 x 8 pans (or spray w/baking blend spray).
Cream together butter and sugar till smooth. Melt chocolate and add to mixture. Add eggs one at a time. Gradually add flour. Add vanilla. Add nuts if using. Mix together and spoon equal amounts of batter into each pan. Bake for 30 minutes, approx.
Let cool and cut into squares.
Count your blessings.
Whether it’s a bad diagnosis at the doctor or a divorce that’s crossed over to the dark side, feeling out of control is a ‘recipe’ for a host of mental health issues and eventually, even physical ones!
One surefire way to get back control is to bake brownies, cookies, or cupcakes.
Bite size pastries are Happy Foods, and the small, manageable sizes will symbolize your ability to break your problems down into manageable parts, the very essence of psychotherapy!
Additionally, the sheer number of perfect treats you produce, will infuse you with power and a renewed sense that you can and will accomplish whatever it takes to get through and persevere.