UrbanCity Podcast | Cultural Autopsy Author Q&A What Grandma Never Measured
By Felicia Brookins Award-Winning Author & Screenwriter | Host of Cultural Autopsy | Urban City Podcast Contributor Award-Winning Author, Markette “Sugar” Sheppard, invites us beyond the recipe and into the heart of the Black Southern kitchen, where memory lived in a grandmother’s hands, family stories traveled by word of mouth, and love was measured by instinct rather than cups and spoons. In this intimate Cultural Autopsy Q&A, Sheppard reflects on the rituals, family secrets, inherited wisdom, and everyday moments that inspired ‘Grandma Dee’s Pineapple Upside-Down Cake ‘and reminds us why some of our most precious family stories must be preserved before the people who carry them are gone. By Felicia Kelly-Brookins | Cultural Autopsy Some family recipes are written on index cards, tucked inside cookbooks, and passed carefully from one generation to the next. Others were never written down at all. They lived in grandmother’s hands. In the way she knew when the batter was ready by looking at it. In the pinch of this, the handful of that, and the quiet confidence of a woman who had made the same dish so many times that measuring cups were unnecessary. But the kitchen held more than recipes. For many Black Southern families, it was also a classroom, Children listened while elders cooked. Stories surfaced between meals. Wisdom was passed down in pieces. And beneath the laughter, gossip, advice, and familiar smells were histories that no one thought to write down. That is the world at the heart of Markette “Sugar” Sheppard’s Grandma Dee’s Pineapple Upside-Down Cake. In this special Cultural Autopsy Author Q&A, Urban City Podcast goes beyond the pages of the book to ask a larger question: When Grandma leaves us, what happens to everything she never wrote down? 1. In your book, Grandma Dee does not measure the ingredients. She explains that this is simply how they made the cake on the farm. What does that moment reveal about the kind of knowledge our grandmothers carried, and how they passed it down? Grandma Dee, just like all our grandmothers, carried knowledge on their hands, on their faces and in their heads and hearts. The wisdom and wherewithal our foremothers had to be able to navigate the conditions of the Deep South is nothing short of remarkable. Back then, wisdom moved through word of mouth, song and dance and the love they baked into every recipe. That is what is so special about our grandmothers who didn’t use measuring cups and such. The true measurement came from their life experience and wisdom. 2. Would you say that Grandma Dee’s hands became her recipe book? How did you translate that kind of inherited, instinctive knowledge into a story children could understand and appreciate? Grandma Dee’s hands were a rich cinnamon-color with fine lines. They were strong, but at the same time gentle. When I would bake with her in the kitchen, I would inevitably ask her, “Ma! How much flour? How much sugar? (In a rush to get my answers, I would sometimes shorten Grandma Dee’s name to simply, “Ma”). She would just hold up one hand and touch the tip of her thumb with her pinky finger and say, “About this much.” I would laugh and so would she because we both knew I had no idea what that meant! Grandma Dee was proud of her recipes. She wasn’t just going to give them away to the first, second or even third grandchild who asked (and I believe I was her seventh grandchild)! But I now know she had spent a lifetime perfecting her cakes and pies and potato salads. They were her pride and joy and that “thing” she did very well. THey are now a part of her legacy. 3. In many Black Southern families, the kitchen was more than a place where meals were prepared. It was where children listened, women shared wisdom, problems were discussed, and family history was preserved. What did the kitchen represent in your family? In my family, we cooked and cleaned just like any other household. But the kitchen was also a place where we hot combed our hair. Grandma Dee had an old school iron hot comb with a wooden handle. That’s the hot comb that taught me how to set still! Because if you didn’t, you already know! Sitting in the kitchen, eating home cooked Southern snacks like fried okra and hoe cakes while getting my hair done was almost like a rite of passage. That’s when the girls in my house knew they were moving from little girls to young ladies. With that transition came the kitchen gossip. With each dab of grease, a part to the hair and a swipe of the comb you got a little more info on what happened to Cousin “So and So” and her kids! The kitchen seemed to hold all the family secrets. 4. Black families have often created food, fellowship, and celebration during extremely difficult circumstances. What role do you believe food has played in helping Black communities preserve joy, comfort, dignity, and connection? We celebrate with a good meal. We sulk with comfort food. One time, I was upset about something that happened in school and came into Grandma Dee’s kitchen with my head down and shoulders slumped. She didn’t say much. She just started making some biscuits. By the time the biscuits were done, and we were sopping them up with maple syrup and butter, I had told her all my worries. She just calmly sat there and said, “Yeah, I figured you needed some comfort food.” It wasn’t too long after that moment that I began to realize that food can do what words cannot. A hug comes close, but it’s something about warm, fresh baked goodness that can calm a mind and soothe a soul. Mamas can’t do that the way grandma does it. Grandmas simply have more experience having raised our moms, aunties, sisters and neighborhood friends. That’s why grandmothers are so grand and why they truly are the keepers of our joy, comfort, dignity and connection. 5. Recipes can disappear when an elder passes away because the instructions were never written down. What do you hope your book inspires families to ask, record, or learn from their elders before those traditions are lost? I hope this book inspires grandchildren to get in the kitchen and start baking with their grandmothers, and really pay attention. Grandma Dee was never going to write down her recipe, but I could’ve taken notes. I wish I had taken notes. So, in the book, after the story is done, I have designed a recipe journal for all my readers to write down their favorite family recipes. Final Question: When children finish reading Grandma Dee’s Pineapple Upside-Down Cake, what conversation do you hope they will have with their own grandmothers, grandfathers, or family elders? After grandchildren read my book, I hope they are inspired to ask their grandmothers that one thing they’ve always wondered about. Grandmothers are like vaults, so I hope they just spend enough quality time with their grandmothers to unlock a little bit of that wisdom. My grandmother is gone and I’ll never get her back. It sounds shocking to even think about it because she lived 96 years. I had about 25 years with her about a quarter of her life and I could have used those years better. But when we are kids, we think grandma is just going to be baking us cakes and pies forever. The biggest thing I know now is that I can keep her legacy alive by writing and also baking with my son and his little cousins the way Grandma Dee did with me.
