Meemaw is not so much a believer in measurements. Or detailed instructions, for that matter. Back when she could still cook, my aunt tried to learn her secrets by watching her do it, but had a hard time interpreting how much a dash of this or a “humping spoonful” of that actually was. No one, to my knowledge, has tried to make creamed chicken since Meemaw became unable to. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the legacy of food, and the ways in which the things we eat as children shape us.