My oldest daughter is seven and a half months pregnant and visiting us in Maine, at the house where she grew up. Her partner is here and his mother and about a dozen of her closest East Coast friends (she lives in California) will gather this weekend for a baby “shower.” She doesn’t want balloons or games or paper streamers or any of the usual shower stuff. She just wants to feel the circle of her friendships and eat some really good food. And celebrate her soon-to-be baby.
I’ve been planning for weeks. Originally, she wanted fried chicken but I imagined myself standing over a skillet of sizzling oil on a hot August day and nixed the idea. Her second choice was her father’s barbecued ribs (slathered in spices overnight and slow-cooked over charcoal and wood chips for many hours). There will be grilled salmon with lemon-herb butter, a potato salad, cold Chinese noodles with peanuts and scallions, and a huge summer salad with all the greens and tomatoes and cucumbers from our garden. But the one non-negotiable was my Maple-Chile BBQ sauce to go with the ribs. I came up with this sauce a decade ago, an experiment with various condiments and chile mixtures found in my refrigerator. It’s the perfect blend of sweet, sour and spice. I got up early this morning, before the August heat cracked, and sautéed fresh ginger and garlic, added chile paste and maple syrup, ketchup, balsamic vinegar, and soy sauce. It's been simmering for about 40 minutes and the kitchen smells full of promise.
The baby is due in late October. I wrote my daughter a letter that I was hoping to read at the shower, but I know I will start sobbing the minute I read her name to the assembled women. My family has a proclivity for feeling emotions deeply and toasts and heartfelt speeches are almost always accompanied by tears. Lots of them. This will be my second grandchild (my youngest daughter has a 3 year old) and this baby will be a boy. We are all so excited about this baby and it just fills me with joy to see my daughter and her partner this happy.
The shower was last weekend and it was a magical day of friends, celebration and tiny adorable baby outfits. When it came time to read my letter I decided to bite the bullet and I made it through the first sentence before I was overcome by emotion. My husband ended up reading the letter to the group for me, while my daughter and I both ugly cried and used almost a box of tissues. There wasn’t a dry eye in the crowd.
The food was a big hit, but what many people asked for was the recipe for the spicy, gingery, sweet/sour barbecue sauce. That I can do without any tears.

