Cod in butter sauce

AKA me and grandma Mary

My grandmother left this world when I was five years old, which is odd because the older I get, the more I seem to share things in common with her. Mary Astin was a woman I hardly knew but know so well. Mary Astin was a baker devoted to her family in mite, bread, and butter. I think (want to) have a cliché memory of her cooking at the stove at home at 78 Malden Way, stirring a butter sauce for cod and peas to feed my sickly younger brother.

I have a stronger memory of putting my hands in a bowl to eat it. It was really high, and it took some effort to get it. I think I was told off for that. But Mary, I don't want to hold a grudge. Not to the woman who seems the most like me in my family; I need you.

You probably would have liked me. We may have cooked a lot together. My uncles tell me you would have loved learning about all the 'modern ingredients' I bring to 78 Malden Way. Am I like you because Dad named me Lana Mary? A fact that brings my uncles to tears to this day. "You're so like mum," they tell me. "Mum would have said that," they say with thanks for my advice. Uncle Steven didn’t even know that middle name was Mary before he said that.

At work in the kitchen, I made a cod risotto so buttery that I thought of you when I tasted it. The following week, I made cod in butter sauce.

My cod risotto with corn, courgette, and sage flowers