





































 

Digest: A Journal of Foodways and Culture 9:1 (2022): 55-65 ©American Folklore Society 2022 

Research Note 
 
Pickled Eggs and Natural Dyes: Food as Active Memory 
By: Meaghan Collins 
 

Abstract: 
Food and grief are often closely connected. Many people prepare favorite foods of 
passed loved ones as part of a healing process—a way to remember. Re-creating 
beloved recipes can help bring memories to life. But how can we re-create those 
memories in the kitchen while also learning to live without the individuals we’ve 
lost? I argue that sometimes, to navigate grief, discovering new cooking techniques 
can help the mourning process. In an interview conducted in 2021 with Toronto 
resident Gaïa Orain, I learned how she began to pickle eggs using natural dyeing 
techniques as a coping mechanism for the death of her mother. While Gaïa’s mother 
was an avid cook, pickling eggs was not her recipe. It was something Gaïa learned on 
her own and has since come to embody her mother’s essence and a way for Gaïa to 
actively remember and honor her while simultaneously developing a sense of 
autonomy.  

 
Keywords: 
grief, memory, pickled eggs, natural dyes, family, nostalgia  
 

 
How can we recreate and honor the memory of someone we love who has died while 
simultaneously learning how to live without them? How can we move forward without 
forgetting their presence in our lives? The answers to these difficult questions may be as 
numerous and varied as the people asking. For some people, memories of loved ones are 
manifested and embodied through the act of preparing and making food. Jillian Gould 
writes: “Our kitchen stories connect us to one another; the memories and narratives we 
share can be just as powerful as the food itself" (2017: 105). This research note reflects on 
how food has helped my friend, Gaïa Orain, find answers as she grieves the loss of her 
mother.  

 
Gaïa Orain was born on April 27, 1986. After finishing high school in London, Ontario, she 
moved to Montréal in the early 2000s and then to New York City to complete her MFA in 
Product Design from the School of Visual Arts. After living most of her adult life outside of 
Ontario, she decided to return to the province, to Toronto, a couple of years following the 
death of her mother, Véronique Orain. I hadn’t seen Gaïa for several years, so her moving to 
Toronto was a welcome surprise for me. When she moved into an apartment around the 
corner from me, our renewed friendship was partly founded on a shared sense of loss. Gaia 
was mourning her mother, while I was grieving the end of a relationship and had recently 
been laid off from a job. I was pushing my way through Toronto’s crowded streetcars and 
busy sidewalks, and with each shaky step, I remember feeling like I was exposing my 
loneliness and vulnerable state to everyone around me. Thanks to Gaïa, however, those 
darks days were interrupted with many evenings of bright and heartfelt conversation, 



Collins, Pickled Eggs and Natural Dyes, Digest: A Journal of Foodways and Culture 9:1 (2022) 

 
56 

radiant colors, and delicious food. As she turned to the kitchen to find her path forward, she 
helped identify the way out of grief for me as well. 
  
When we reconnected, Gaia was still reeling from the death of her mother, Véronique. Born 
in Rheims, France, Véronique moved to London, Ontario in 1984 and it is here that she died 
at home in 2016. Gaïa describes her as a woman who had an “appreciation for color… 
velvet and purple, Harlequin romance and drama... that kind of stuff, you know?” (Orain, 
2021). She was also an excellent cook. Gaïa remembers that she “took great pleasure in 
spending hours in the kitchen. She would listen to French music… and, I just remember 
she’d be in the kitchen for hours on end and be quite content there. And was really invested 
in the process and knowing materials, and also had a confidence of things” (Oraïn, 2021). 
  
Her description of her mother as sensuous and tactile, and self-assured and comfortable in 
the kitchen, is not far off from how I would describe Gaïa. The memories of her mother in 
the kitchen actively live and weave themselves into how she exists in the very same space. 
Whether intentional, learned, or in active response to her loss, Gaïa uses her love of 
cooking and design to maintain a connection with her mother who is no longer here. That 
this a grieving process is undeniable. Although Gaïa says that “grief” sounds “so sad” (Orain, 
2021), it is present here and Gaïa’s experiences show how grieving can take on multiple 
meanings and behaviors, some of which celebrate life’s vibrancy and joy as much as 
mourning its loss.  

 
Part of Gaïa’s grieving process is to actively remember her mother through cooking. This 
involves spending time in the kitchen, sometimes preparing the foods they loved together, 
while at other times trying new recipes that her mother would almost certainly have 
enjoyed. Through making food, Gaïa connects with, activates, and maintains her mother’s 
playful essence and the relationship they shared as mother and daughter. The kitchen is 
one of the places where she remembers her mother most vividly, and it is also a space in 
which Gaïa feels most at home. Like her mother, Gaïa moves with ease in the kitchen.  

 
One of the foods Gaïa creates in order to feel close to her mother is pickled eggs. Gaïa’s 
recipe for naturally dyed pickled eggs is based on traditional pickling methods, but the 
natural dyeing agents are her own additions, and they are not consistent. The steps to 
making her colorful pickled eggs are embedded throughout this research note as 
representative markers of how food is intrinsic to narrative. Both food and narrative are 
shaped through actively acknowledging memory as an ongoing and evolving process.  

 



Digest: A Journal of Foodways and Culture 9:1 (2022) 

 
 

57 

 
Photo 1. Pink pickled eggs with fresh herbs. Toronto, January 2022. Photo by Gaïa Orain. Used 
with permission. 
 
The first step is as follows: 

 
So, pickled eggs: I prefer jammy in the middle, so… [you can] get them a week old, or 
get them fresh… I think the jury is kind of out on that, if you get eggs that are a week 
old, fantastic. And then you want to bring your pot to a boil and then plop them all 
in. And I set my timer for nine minutes. Eight can be too jammy, ten can be too stiff. 
So, you boil your eggs for nine minutes and as soon as the timer is off you chill them. 
(Orain, 2021) 

 
While a tiny space in her one-bedroom Harbord Street apartment, the kitchen is 
immaculately equipped with a gas stove, shelves upon shelves of mason jars full of vibrant 
powders and textures, kitschy glass- and cooking-ware, and freshly cut flowers everywhere 
in multiple vases. She invited me for snacks and wine shortly after she arrived in Toronto, 
so I came over with a bottle of my favorite Spanish red and she provided the rest. This was 
also the first time I tried her pickled eggs.  

 
I am trying to remember my initial impressions of the dish as I write this. I can visualize 
vivid jewel tones: hard-boiled eggs with fuchsia exteriors, golden egg yolks. A blob of 
velvety-yellow curried mayo on the side of the plate, for dipping. They were perfectly salty 
and sour and paired unusually yet deliciously with the Spanish Tempranillo. And, perhaps 
what was most memorable, and certainly most striking, was the presentation: bright pink 
eggs presented on blue and purple serving plates, illuminated by a few soft lights in the 
apartment. Night had just fallen as I sat at the little kitchen table, drinking wine from my 
comedically-large glass goblet, watching Gaïa whip up more plates of cheeses, hummus, 
and endives for us to savour. 

 



Collins, Pickled Eggs and Natural Dyes, Digest: A Journal of Foodways and Culture 9:1 (2022) 

 
58 

Barthes writes that, “food serves as a sign not only for themes, but also for situations; and 
this, all told, means for a way of life that is emphasized, much more than expressed, by it” 
(Barthes, 1961/2013: 28). Gaïa was introduced to pickled eggs not by her biological 
mother, but by her stepmother, Barbara Ackerman. It was 2018, shortly after Gaïa moved 
to Toronto. Having lived in New York and Montréal for most of her adult life, away from 
family, her relationship with Barbara was still developing. But Gaïa noticed that “[we] both 
connected well in the kitchen” (Orain, 2021) and that their shared love of cooking brought 
them closer together. They were each preparing to attend separate New Year’s Eve events 
and Gaïa was looking for gluten-free snack options to bring to her friend’s party. Growing 
up in a Jewish family, Barbara’s cooking style was influenced by pickling traditions and 
incorporating savoury flavours into her meals, so she suggested that they try their hands at 
pickled eggs. 
 
Step Two: 

 
So, you run them under cold water until everything is cool and then immediately 
crack them so that the water can help separate them from the shell... you crack it, 
but you don’t remove the shell so that the water can get between the eggy and the 
shell membrane. There’s something about the chilling that helps... I guess when 
you’re heating a hot thing, cold water contracting... something around that makes 
sense.  
 
And then I let those hang out in the fridge or the freezer if there’s space but there 
usually isn’t, for not a timed amount. Then I’m preparing the brine. 
(Orain, 2021) 

 
Gaïa had never made pickled eggs before, but when she Googled “pickled eggs,” she realized 
that she could incorporate natural dyes and colors into the recipe, turning the traditional 
pub treat into something that is also aesthetically delightful. As a textile artist with a 
background in design, she recognized an opportunity to incorporate colors and textures 
into a seemingly simple recipe, and a chance to connect with her stepmother and get 
playful while in the kitchen. It was also an opportunity for her to embody the memory of 
her mother’s essence in the place that she and Véronique love so much: the kitchen. 

 
Growing up with a French mother, Gaïa did not encounter pickled eggs as part of the Orain 
household menu. Rather, Gaïa remembers her mother producing French-inspired dishes, 
such as leek pizza. Actually, Véronique’s leek pizza was not pizza at all, at least from a 
traditional, Italian perspective. It was made from phyllo pastry, caramelized leeks, feta 
cheese, pine nuts, sundried tomatoes, olives, and herbs de Provence. According to Gaïa it is 
important not to scrimp on the herbs de Provence; she warns not to buy the “cheapy stuff, 
for two dollars, [because] there’s probably no lavender in it” (Orain, 2021). Gaïa tells me 
that she never liked leeks as a child so her mom created this tart that she called “pizza” to 
entice her to eat it. Her enticement worked because Gaïa has been eating and making it 
ever since.  

 



Digest: A Journal of Foodways and Culture 9:1 (2022) 

 
 

59 

Gaïa regularly makes a leek tart with her godmother, Ann Harley, although she has made 
several modifications. For example, she substitutes the heaps of butter for a healthier 
choice of olive oil and switches phyllo for gluten-free flatbread. Ann was one of Véronique’s 
best friends and when Gaïa and Ann get together they make the dish and share anecdotes 
and stories of Gaïa’s mother. They actively remember Véronique by recreating one of her 
favorite foods while simultaneously enjoying and reliving some of her experiences. Food 
and narratives intertwine. Gaïa reflects, “I think it’s something people always forget about 
grief, is that, telling people about the person they lost is really wonderful. I don’t know all 
the ways in which she lived. I have a perspective on my experiences as a child but, I love 
hearing about how she showed up as a friend or remembering what they had” (Orain, 
2021). At the same time, Ann and Gaïa’s relationship strengthens as they share their 
personal memories about Véronique during the process of making and eating one of her 
dishes. She is embodied in the familiar taste and stories. In this process of remembering 
and recreating a meal, Véronique’s energy is ignited and felt deeply by both.  

 
Gaïa explains how difficult it was to record her mother’s recipes, including the one for leek 
pizza, because she never used traditional measurement methods. Instead, the making of a 
dish was embedded in a sensory process and in her surroundings. Gaïa says, “chasing my 
mom for her details was always hard, like... this gloop of this and a handful of that, we get 
them from this place...” (Orain, 2021). Her approach echoes David Sutton’s description of 
his research participant Georgia Vourneli cooking in her Greek kitchen: “At no point in the 
process does she employ measuring spoons or cups. In this case the ingredients themselves 
become ‘tools’ and perform the role of ‘measuring’ other ingredients. In a sense the use of 
ingredients as tool can be seen as part of the structuring of the cooking environment itself as 
a mnemonic, or memory-jog” (2013: 309-10). Although Gaïa playfully mimics her mother’s 
use of phonetic sounds or vague descriptive words to verbally represent recipe 
measurements, she often utilizes similar language when describing how to make her 
pickled eggs. She declares, “I’m not one to measure things but I’ll eyeball the vessel that I’m 
going to pickle in and then imagine that half of it will be occupied by eggs, and then that’s 
how much liquid I need, which is half white vinegar, half water, and then a good handful of 
Kosher salt or rock salt...” (Orain, 2021).  

 
Perhaps Gaïa learned this sensory technique from her mother or perhaps she has a natural 
aversion to measuring, but for whatever reason, like her mother, she now relies on tactile 
memory to create and describe familiar recipes. This mirrors Jillian Gould’s experience of 
watching her mother and grandmother cook. For things they made regularly, recipes were 
not written down but “embodied” (Gould 2017: 104). Similarly, Gaïa and her mother’s 
embodiment of their recipes have meant that over the years these dishes came to represent 
much more to them than mere food or sustenance. For mother and daughter, the act or 
process of preparing food is primary. Their confident method of making food without 
needing to write down recipes draws on both their corporeal and emotional memories. 
Each time Gaïa reaches for a “handful” of salt or “eyeballs” how much vinegar she will need, 
she physically and emotionally remembers her mother’s way of making food. There is no 
need for tablespoons or cups because the recipe is engrained within her mnemonic storage 
space, and those memories charge and flourish each time she whips out another carton of 
eggs. As she mixes herbs and spices into her pickling brine, she also unconsciously 



Collins, Pickled Eggs and Natural Dyes, Digest: A Journal of Foodways and Culture 9:1 (2022) 

 
60 

observes her mother in their old kitchen in London, Ontario, listening to French music, 
excitedly and gracefully losing herself in the process of cooking.  
 
Step three:  

 
I’m not one to measure things but I’ll eyeball the vessel that I’m going to pickle in 
and then imagine that half of it will be occupied by eggs, and then that’s how much 
liquid I need, which is half white vinegar, half water, and then a good handful of 
Kosher salt or rock salt... and I’ve never really measured but I’ll ask myself, what do I 
have on hand?  
 
So, if I have beets... now I have a bit of a witch’s cabinet full of weird things, so I have 
beet flour, I have pea flower which is the flower that makes things blue... I’ve used 
hibiscus or sorrel that can also make really bright colors... people might shy away 
from it, but it doesn’t really impact the taste because what you’re tasting is salt and 
vinegar, and there’s also going to be pickling spices.  
(Orain, 2021) 
 

Symbolism not only affects how people perceive events, it influences their actions (Jones, 
2011: 4). Pickled eggs were not something that Véronique made or consumed. Rather, she 
typically preferred the traditional dishes of her French homeland. However, for Gaïa, the 
playfulness of making brightly colored pickled eggs, from sourcing natural dyes to 
navigating how to create the boldest shade of burgundy with purple carrots (Orain, 2021), 
embodies her mother’s whimsical and epicurean qualities. It is the dyeing process that is 
perhaps more significant to Gaïa than the pickling because it provides an opportunity to 
channel her mother’s energy and exercise her artistic abilities and playfulness into the 
recipe. The dyed eggs are symbolic of her mother’s sensorial and curious approach to life 
and the joy that she actively sought while in the kitchen. Gaïa manifests such sensibilities 
each time she makes and shares a new batch of pickled eggs with her loved ones.  

 
The experience of preparing, eating, and sharing the recipe for pickled eggs generates and 
solidifies an ongoing connection with her mother. When Gaïa was growing up, the act of 
cooking—whether it was watching or participating in the kitchen—bonded her with her 
mother. It was a connective, interactive force that strengthened their relationship. While 
Véronique is no longer physically present there remain foods, such as Gaïa’s pickled eggs, 
that symbolize and manifest her bright and generous energy, morphing and modifying into 
deep jewel tones with the care and changing ingredients that Gaïa pours into each batch. 
And for Gaïa, pickled eggs are “something I make to share or to delight” (Orain, 2021). They 
are meant to be eaten with other people, a way to connect and share experiences.  

 
Other than eating them with Gaïa, the only time I can remember seeing pickled eggs was in 
small pubs in England and at one bar in Toronto called The Communist’s Daughter. I spent 
a significant amount of time in that place, yet I never ordered a pickled egg off the menu. I 
always opted for a bag of chips to go along with my pint. The large, cloudy jar of lifeless 
eggs that sat behind the bar never appealed to me. Perhaps if the brine had added natural 
dyeing agents, such as fuchsia beet or blue pea flowers, I would have felt more compelled to 



Digest: A Journal of Foodways and Culture 9:1 (2022) 

 
 

61 

try one. Taking something ordinary, like an egg, out of its usual context evokes intrigue 
because it’s unfamiliar and exciting. A bright pink or lavender hardboiled egg is 
extraordinary. In many parts of the world, decorating eggs with bright colors and patterns 
is commonplace. For instance, the Hutsels, the ethno-cultural Ukrainian group that reside 
in the Carpathian Mountains, have been decorating eggs for centuries (Nepyivoda, 2016). 
But within a Torontonian, North American context, the oddity of a colorful egg invites 
curiosity because it is new and unique. It encourages play. 
 
Step four: 

 
My favorite so far has been purple carrots; it makes a beautiful burgundy. And then 
you can do good old turmeric for yellow eggs but don’t get attached to the vessel 
they’re in because it will dye... even metal, and definitely any kind of plastic. And 
then a hodgepodge of spices I have, a mix of pickling spices... I think like cumin, 
pepper, and coriander seed, bay leaf, who knows. 
(Orain, 2021) 

 
Part of what makes the experience of eating Gaïa’s pickled eggs unique is that she 
intentionally pairs the eggs with matching plates for added aesthetic delight. Laura Shapiro 
writes about women and cooking at the turn-of-the-century and the dawn of American food 
magazines. She notes the historical importance of color-coding meals and how cooking-
school students in the United States were taught to match everything on the table, from 
flowers to table decorations to menu items: “Color-coded meals enjoyed a surge of 
popularity among ambitious home cooks as well as cooking students, and ideas were 
traded back and forth in the pages of food magazines... color-coordinated meals were 
praised for being artistic as well as pragmatic” (Shapiro, 1987: 84).  

 
Shapiro argues that to further the creation of a pleasant dining experience, color-coding 
meals was also a way to take more control of the “messy, unpredictable business of the 
kitchen” since the “turn-of-the-century kitchen was a matter of guesswork even for the 
experienced” (1987: 84-85). Gaïa’s pickled eggs mirror the pragmatic aesthetics of the 
early twentieth century woman that Shapiro describes, as she consciously creates color-
coded dyes and flavors. However, she embraces the unpredictability of her recipes each 
time she develops something new in her mind. The uncertainty of the event is part of the 
process. For her, incorporating play into how she navigates the world and embracing 
unpredictability is critical. She reflects, “I think [play] is something that we forget to do as 
we get older. We get really invested in sober aesthetics and performing adulthood that we 
forget play is intrinsic to... being? The cat still plays, you know?” (Orain, 2021). 
  
Gaïa’s playful approach to life is a direct influence from her mother. For example, growing 
up, Véronique and Gaïa’s favorite holiday was “The King’s Party,” or “La Fête des Rois,” a 
French tradition celebrated on January 6th when people honor the epiphany, or the arrival 
of the three kings after Jesus’ birth. On this day, mother and daughter would engage in 
“crafts, cake, crêpes, and... hilarity and process, like somebody finds a little porcelain Jesus 
or who knows what in their cake... you find something in your pie, and you get to take the 
queen or king with you and then you get to be the ruler for the day” (Orain, 2021). At the 



Collins, Pickled Eggs and Natural Dyes, Digest: A Journal of Foodways and Culture 9:1 (2022) 

 
62 

end of that sentence, Gaïa started laughing. For many adults who are not familiar with the 
tradition, the idea of “becoming the ruler for the day” might sound silly or even 
uncomfortable. Gaïa probably recognizes this as she nostalgically remembers engaging in 
the activities with her mother, but it doesn’t stop her from continuing the custom.  

 
Performing and celebrating the King’s Party has had a lasting impression on Gaïa. In our 
interview, she continued to tell me that while living in Brooklyn, she would throw a 
“Queen’s Party” for all her female-identifying friends each year. She would serve cheese, 
decorate her apartment, and carry on many of the traditions that she learned from her 
mother, such as hiding a fève, or ceramic figurine, in a baked Galette des Rois for her guests 
to discover. She adapted the premise and traditions of the King’s Parties to create a fun and 
safe space for the women in her life. While her Brooklyn parties were not mirror reflections 
of the traditions she and her mother enjoyed in London, Ontario, the underlying theme 
remained the same: both acted as subversive deviations from the banality of the everyday 
by indulging in a little bit of cake and folly—because, why not?  

 
Maclean, Russell, and Ryall argue that play is constantly becoming and changing and that it 
“enacts anything but a stable, authentic state” (2021: 2). Gaïa likes to challenge “the way 
you’re supposed to navigate things” (Orain, 2021) by incorporating play into her cooking. 
Colorful eggs, dyed with anything from hibiscus to sorrel to purple carrots create an 
element of delight. Colorful eggs symbolically challenge and question societal norms in 
Gaïa’s Canadian context. Dyeing eggs is a tradition in many cultures, such as decorating 
Easter eggs (or, Psyanka) in Ukraine as a spring ritual and to honour nature’s rebirth and 
with the advent of Christianity, “the rebirth of man” (Nepyivoda, 2016). However, Gaïa’s 
eggs are not intentionally influenced by such cultural practices. The beautiful colors she 
creates make seemingly ordinary items (hardboiled eggs) extraordinary, edible objects. 
After learning about pickling eggs, she realized that she could enhance the recipe by 
utilizing her background in textiles. She comments, “I thought... this is what I learned in 
textiles. You know, binding color to a protein with turmeric, paprika, and maybe something 
else like sumac, or whatever... it was kind of like... textiles 101 dyeing, and you can use 
vinegar to bind that color” (Orain, 2021). She recognized that she could apply her practical 
artistic skills to the brine technique, altering the standard pickling ingredients to create 
something unusual, and perhaps challenging to social culinary norms. I never asked Gaïa if 
she would ever consider making standard, colorless pickled eggs but I suspect that she 
might respond by asking what the point of that would be. If you can have something 
beautiful, something to deviate from life’s seriousness, why take that away? After all, as 
Gaïa observed, “[one] can tell when life isn’t pleasant because there is less play” (Orain, 
2021). 
  
Part of Gaïa’s motivation to generate and incorporate play and humour into her world is to 
serve as a coping mechanism for her grief. She comments, “it’s also important to find humor 
and play because death is sad, but death is an essential fact of life... seeking out joyfulness 
or finding ways for joy... helps me navigate being a human in the world, whether that’s 
COVID or having a dead mom” (Orain, 2021).  When Barbara, Gaïa’s stepmother, first 
suggested that they make pickled eggs as a New Year’s Eve party snack, Gaïa’s instincts 
were to see how she could turn the recipe into an event. She wanted the bonding 



Digest: A Journal of Foodways and Culture 9:1 (2022) 

 
 

63 

experience with Barbara to be memorable. I would argue that her desire to add color and 
creativity to the recipe was Gaïa pulling from remembered experiences in the kitchen with 
her mother. Perhaps she wanted to recreate the experiences that she shared with 
Véronique—delightfully moving throughout and playing in the kitchen. Making the 
experience less informal was perhaps more comfortable for Gaïa, and by doing so she was 
channelling her mother’s energy into the space. 

 
Focusing on dyeing the eggs provided Gaïa a task in the pickling process. Instead of simply 
watching her stepmom prepare the recipe as she passively followed instructions, she 
contributed something interesting and meaningful. Most importantly, she invited her 
mother’s spirit into this new experience, helping her to feel less intimated by the 
developing relationship with Barbara. Michael Owen Jones writes that food “oftentimes 
plays a role in nostalgia, carrying or evoking specific memories, not only of the food itself 
but also of the relationships and contexts associated with it" (Long and Jones, 2017: 7). 
While the pickled eggs were then new to Gaïa, discovering that she could add vitality to 
hardboiled eggs through color and natural dyeing processes evoked the vibrant and 
unprecedented connection she had and continues to have with her mother. The pickling 
egg process reminds Gaïa of her mother and forces her to pause and actively remember her 
mother’s way of doing things, at the same time it informs both her own navigation in the 
kitchen and pickling recipe.  

 
To remember, one has to build, or rebuild (Bahloul, 2003: 128). Gaïa’s pickled eggs were 
not her mom’s recipe. She learned this tradition through Barbara, who suggested the recipe 
on a whim, based on her Jewish upbringing and culinary traditions. But “all of [her 
mother’s] behaviours and ways of navigating the kitchen are there... I keep the parts of her 
that I really appreciate by embodying how she approaches things, even if it’s not one of her 
recipes” (Orain, 2021). As Gaïa creates her own autonomy by devising new pickled egg and 
natural dye concoctions, she connects to her mother while taking a slightly different path. 
The process of pickling and coloring eggs is something that Véronique likely would have 
enjoyed, but the recipe is part of Gaïa’s own repertoire. When she engages in her mother’s 
favorite activities, such as cooking and incorporating pleasure and play in the kitchen, she 
actively remembers her mother while also constructing agency for herself. Part of her 
grieving process is to take the parts of her mother that she loves and then rebuild them into 
something new and unique to her own experiences, a modified foundation for her to stand 
on. It is a foundation deeply rooted in her mother’s traditions and energy, and it also has 
ample room to take those roots in different directions and thrive. 

 
Food and the act of cooking not only bring her closer to how she remembers her mother, 
but also to parts of her she did not know. Gaïa mentions that when cooking leek pizza with 
Ann, her godmother, she “love[s] hearing about how she showed up as a friend” (Orain, 
2021). Gaïa learns of an unknown Véronique—a woman who existed outside of her family 
framework, and this provides additional layers of connection to her mother and 
strengthens her new, confident, and autonomous foundation. She is becoming closer to her 
mother while also learning to journey through life independently. As Gaïa learns more 
about the person she loved and loves so dearly, by absorbing the stories and manifesting 
them into her own memories and experiences, she eases the pain of her grief. As she 



Collins, Pickled Eggs and Natural Dyes, Digest: A Journal of Foodways and Culture 9:1 (2022) 

 
64 

navigates the kitchen, choosing new spices or vinegars for the eggs or thinking of 
interesting colors to create, she channels her mother’s actions and behaviours. She is 
learning how her mother might behave in the kitchen while producing new recipes by 
engaging in the activity of cooking herself. 
 
Step Five: 
 

So then I put them in a big jar and let them hang out on the counter. And then once 
they reach room temperature, then I put them in the fridge. Sometimes I leave them 
out for a day. I like to make a Dijon-aise or a béarnaise, essentially it’s like eggs on 
eggs. It’s an egg-based sauce, a mayonnaise or aioli—always egg based.  
 
The most popular, these are party hits... is mayo with a good curry powder in it. It’s 
cumin-y, it’s yellow. Right, so if my eggs are super pink and then I have this very 
yellow, yummy sauce... I’ve also done a pesto-y one, cracked pepper, béarnaise, or 
like... goodness knows. But most times they’re purple-ish eggs with a curried mayo. 
(Orain, 2021) 
 

Gaïa reflects, “I think [cooking] is something that connects me to all of the women mentors 
in my life” (Orain, 2021). Making beautiful, delicious food is essential to how she interprets 
the world and is pivotal to her lifeforce. The act of cooking has strengthened and deepened 
her relationships with three women role models: Barbara, Ann, and Véronique. And it is 
Véronique who is the thread running through each relationship. While sharing stories and 
memories of Véronique, Ann and Gaïa make one of her favorite dishes, leek pizza. Gaïa and 
Barbara initially made pickled eggs together as a way to bond. From there, Gaïa capitalized 
on what she recognized as an exciting opportunity to exercise her creativity by coloring the 
pickled eggs. Perhaps unintentionally, she also kindled a unique connection with her 
mother’s essence, embodied in the playful process of dyeing and making the hardboiled 
eggs.  

 
Grief is not linear nor is it something that ever ends. There are steps to take that can soften 
it, however, even for a few fleeting hours. For Gaïa, dyeing and pickling eggs reshapes her 
grief into something more manageable. Her process of making food reminds her of her 
mother and sharing the process with others is a way to connect and manifest her mother’s 
energy while firmly moving forward in her life. Each time she steps into a kitchen to make 
anything at all, Gaïa embodies elements she adored about her mother, including her 
confidence and skill as a cook, the pleasure she took in life, and her playfulness. Dyed 
pickled eggs remind her of the person she loved most in this world but she has also made 
them her own. This mirrors how the journey forward is hers alone. As she puts it: “When 
we lose somebody who is foundational to how we navigate the world, it’s also important to 
find [a] way[s] in which you are autonomous from it… how it informs it” (Orain, 2021).  
 
 
 
  



Digest: A Journal of Foodways and Culture 9:1 (2022) 

 
 

65 

Works Cited 
Bahloul, Joëlle. The Architecture of Memory: A Jewish-Muslim household in colonial Algeria 
1937 – 1964. Cambridge: University of Cambridge Press, 1996.  
 
Barthes, Roland. 2013. “Toward a Psychosociology of Contemporary Food Consumption.” 
In Food and Culture: A Reader 3rd ed, ed. Carole Counihan and Penny Van Esterik, 23-30. 
New York: Routledge. 
 
Gould, Jillian. 2017. “Hungry for My Past: Kitchen Comfort with Fried Bread and Eggs.” In 
Comfort Food: Meanings and Memories, ed. Michael Owen Jones and Lucy M. Long, 99-113. 
Jackson: University Press of Mississippi. 
 
Jones, Michael Owen. 2011. Studying Organizational Symbolism. Newbury Park: SAGE 
Publications Inc. 
 
Jones, Michael Owen and Lucy M. Long., eds. 2017. Comfort Food: Meanings and Memories. 
Jackson: University Press of Mississippi. 
 
Maclean, Malcolm, Wendy Russell, and Emily Ryall. 2021. Play, Philosophy and Performance. 
New York: Routledge.  
 
Nepyivoda, Ganna. 2016. “Bazaar Artist: Rebirthing the Tradition of Pysankas.” Cultural 
Survival Quarterly Vol. 40, Iss. 1 (March 2016): 26. 
 
Orain, Gaïa. 2021. Interview with author. November 13.  
 
Shapiro, Laura. 1987. Perfection Salad: Women and Cooking at the Turn of the Century. New 
York: First Owl Edition.  
 
Sutton, David. 2012 [2006]. Cooking Skills, the Sense, and Memory: The Fate of Practical  
Knowledge. In Food and Culture: A Reader 3rd edition, ed. Carole Counihan and Penny Van 
Esterik, 299-319. New York: Routledge. 
 
Sutton, David. 2008. A Tale of Easter Ovens: Food and Collective Memory. 2008. Social 
Research 75 (1) (Spring 2008), 157-180. 
 
 


