Fall and pumpkin bread are synonymous in my house. I don’t mean just any pumpkin bread. I mean my mom’s pumpkin bread. Every year, by August, my kids are asking when I’m going to make Grandma Joan’s famous pumpkin bread again!? I like to wait until it feels like fall is in the air, until leaves start to become orange and red and yellow. Last week, I checked and had all my ingredients in the house. I announced that I would be making it…and the crowd went wild. It was a school night, but everyone needed to stay up to have some. Pumpkin bread is allowed to break the rules.

It makes me think about being a kid. When my mom would bake it, my brother Mike and I would sit outside the oven door on the kitchen floor and just stare at it, waiting. As soon as it came out of the oven, we would start begging her for a piece. She insisted it needed to cool for at least 10 minutes to even cut it and that if we ate it while it was too hot, we would get a belly ache. She was talking to the two kids that could easily finish off an entire box of devil dogs she had just bought before the rest of the groceries had even been put away. Deaf ears, but good try Ma. If you’ve known me long enough, then you have probably been lucky enough to know why we obsessed about it back then and why my kids still obsess about it today. Mike and I would usually eat an entire loaf if she let us.

I know I am similar to most, when I say that food stirs up memories. It takes me into a home movie that’s been safely tucked back into my brain. Creating the smells and tastes that my mother created before me is like looking through a photo album. I see the faces and remember the stories. I couldn’t love that more! My favorite part of cooking and baking is what I’m giving to my children. It’s more than food. It’s a connection for them, to me and to where they come from. I grew up in a home where food brought people together and was shared and enjoyed. It’s in my blood to continue to celebrate all it gives.

My mom’s pumpkin bread and the memory it gives me with my brother is so wonderful to me. It is especially meaningful because the fall also makes me think of Mike more than usual. He passed away on October 10th. Next week will mark 16 years since he was given his angel wings. I was a lucky girl to have a big brother. We fought sometimes, usually over the tv, food, or the front seat in the car, but he had my back. I always knew that he did. He was just a normal, genuine guy. He had quite a few friends. His personality attracted people, especially his sense of humor.

I do have tons of memories with Mike of so many different things, but the ones involving food seem to stand out. I guess when you’re both fat kids, that would happen! We also were blessed with a mother who really did know how to cook! I remember her shepards pie. I make that now for my own family. As a kid, I hated the mashed potatoes and my brother hated the meat. It was the perfect team. We switched and gave each other what we didn’t want. We wouldn’t dare waste food! We fought over mom’s deviled cocktail meatballs. Fresh bread was heaven and still makes my inner fat kid smile. Bringing freshly baked malasadas dripping grease through the paper bag into my house was the equivalent to waving the red flag at the bull run. Good luck getting out alive when Mike and Kelly ran your way! My parents would take us to a place called The Riverside where kids would “pay what you weigh”. They may have paid more than other parents, but it sure must have been cheaper than paying for what we would usually order. On that same note, buffets were the best! Mike and I heard that word and became instantly giddy.

Ice cream has always been a big thing for us. When Mike was probably a tween or so, he entered a hot fudge sundae eating contest. He said he just wanted a free sundae and he certainly enjoyed just that! One of his favorite things to eat was a brownie sundae: fudge brownie, vanilla ice cream, hot fudge, whipped cream, and a cherry. It became well known as his thing amongst his friends.

Sunday mornings my mom would always get us out of bed by promising to go out to breakfast after church. I continue this tradition wth my children. Sunday morning breakfasts are the best! The week is crazy and hectic and we don’t always get a chance to connect, but we can count on Sunday mornings.

When we got older and my mom worked, she didn’t always want to cook and my dad would be the first to take us out. I recall many dinners at the Ground Round in the mall near my house with my parents and Mike. We all went in so many directions all day, but this gave us the captive audience. I remember times when it was hard to chew and swallow because of laughing so hard. Again, food bringing us together.

Mike could always make me laugh. I know so many others that would say the same. We all have great stories about him and they’re always about something hilarious he said or did. I am blessed to still have his friends in my life that can help me keep his memory alive for my children. I am especially grateful for the ones who help me celebrate his life every year with a brownie sundae.

In loving memory of Michael David Fernandes February 5, 1972- October 10, 2003