An Ode to My Grandfather and Honey

Vincent Fitzalbert Cooper Jones aka Daddy Coops

I never knew my grandfather well. We never spoke, and I can't recall his face. Yet, I have a few vivid memories from childhood when my sister and I would walk down the dirt path to his bee farm. Growing up in Jamaica, everyone knows the sharp sting of a bee or wasp—it’s a lesson learned young. So whenever we visited him, that faint hum of anxiety always buzzed in the back of my mind.

I remember standing at the edge of his farm, the air thick with the smell of fruits, smoke, flowers, and honey. I’d watch from a distance as he moved among the hives, his figure always obscured by the beekeeping suit, his face an elusive mystery behind the netted mask. In one hand, he held a bee smoker, a strange tool that sent curls of smoke into the air. He would approach us slowly, with a calmness that seemed to flow from the earth itself, reassuring us that we had nothing to fear. His voice was soft, like a whisper carried on the wind, and in his presence, that hum of fear would quiet down, just a little.

Taking his hand felt like stepping into another world. With each step deeper into the farm, we entered a buzzing universe, a place where bees moved in intricate patterns and the scent of honey hung in the air. He showed us the queen bee, invited us to chew on bits of honeycomb that melted like sunshine on our tongues, and let us feel what it was like to be surrounded by thousands of wings beating in harmony. We were explorers in his hidden world, protected by his quiet, steady presence. Those brief visits felt like entire adventures, moments that seemed to stretch on forever in my memory.

When I chose to make Honey Pineapple Fruit Preserves, it was my father who first introduced me to its complex, layered flavors. But with each taste, it was my grandfather I remembered—the gentle way he guided us through that world of bees, the feeling of safety in his hand, and the sweetness of the honey he shared.

So, on National Grandparents Day, I honor him, for the fleeting moments that left a lasting mark, for the sweetness that lingers still.

Honey Pineapple Preserves with PEI Stilton Blue Cheese and Crackers