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What word do you associate with German Chocolate cake?

For me, it’s love.

Every birthday, Grandma Larson would have her best friend, Anna Kuhl, bake a three-tiered German Chocolate cake. I looked forward to that cake each time.

It’s my favorite cake, especially when coconut pecan frosting tops it.

Homemade, of course.

Okay, I’ll be honest. I associate chocolate chip cookies and sugar cookies and gooey rice krispy bars with love, too.

Primarily because Grandma made those goodies and toted them to our house when she and Grandpa visited.

After reading an article in the New York Times that correlated food and love, I began thinking about how food shapes our relationships, how taste, texture and smell draw out memories of certain places and times, how a love/hate relationship with food feeds emotions.

One year for Cassie’s birthday, I made a giant pan of stuffed manicotti. I mixed the thick ricotta and veggies and sausage by hand and stuffed the mix into each shell, covered it with fresh mozza until it was baked to perfection.

After that it became a birthday staple, something you count on. Was it her favorite dish? I’m not sure, but I made it because she liked it and making my kids’ day puts a smile on my face.

As a college student, she walked into the kitchen during Christmas vacation one year and immediately said, “You made manicotti,”- half surprised, half ecstatic - because the spicy aroma of an Italian feast filled the house.

My relationship with Courtney took a bit of a hit this Thanksgiving. See, I always make pumpkin pie because it is her favorite.

Except this year, I didn’t get pie crust made and I didn’t get to the grocery store to buy one of the frozen variety, so I baked a crust-less pumpkin pie.

A look of horror filled her face when she looked at it and proclaimed all I made was pumpkin pudding.

“It’s not the same as pie,” she cried. True. There isn’t a partially-burnt crust.

It was the final nail driven into the proverbial coffin after I didn’t serve turkey that day either.

Reading the article made me contemplate my dislike of turkey.

I’ll eat a minimal amount if it’s thin sliced on a salad and covered with Blue cheese dressing or stuck between roast beef and ham on a club sandwich. It’s there but I cannot taste it.

But put a piece of turkey on a plate and eat it along side mashed potatoes and gravy and green bean casserole?

Gross.

I think my dislike for this form of poultry began one year at Aunt Midge’s and Uncle Merle’s house following holiday lunch, after a queasy stomach led to a full-blown case of vomiting.

My three-year-old brain associated turkey with getting sick and the association was planted.

When someone takes time to prepare a favorite dish or bake cookies and share with others, I think they do it out of love, because they want to make others happy and see a reaction of joy and satisfaction.

Food and love is a story about humanity, how gathering together to break bread is a powerful love story, an association that lasts a lifetime.

Think of some of your fondest memories and undoubtedly, at least one involves food.

I savor those memories ... pass the cake.