It seems odd to write a short homage to a children’s book writer on a food blog, but Maurice Sendak was one of the cornerstones of my childhood reading. I remember being utterly fascinated yet terribly worried at the worlds he presented in his books, places where children freely roamed new territories alone and food played a key part.
Thank you for helping me imagine an escape plane made out of dough. Or how nice it can be to eat chicken soup with rice, any time of year. And the joys of having adventures as a wild thing, but happily returning for supper in the place where you are loved the best of all.
Someday when I am a mama I will read your books to my children, and I hope your worlds will continue to live on in the imaginations of another generation.
But the wild things cried, “Oh please don’t go – we’ll eat you up – we love you so!”
And Max said, “No!”
The wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws but Max stepped into his private boat and waved goodbye.
And sailed back over a year
and in and out of weeks
and through a day
and into the night of his very own room
where he found his supper waiting for him
and it was still hot.
— Maurice Sendak (1928-2012), Where the Wild Things Are