COURTESY OF CROCKER FAMILY
Always the über mom, Nan Crocker regularly held cooking classes with her grandchildren. At a chateau the family rented in France last summer, Crocker taught the children and a couple of others to make gougères, a Gruyère-flavored pastry. In the foreground is Crocker's daughter, Nina.

IN MY OWN idiosyncratic way, I keep track of people I know or need to stay in touch with on a kind of primitive contact list. Beside each name, lest I forget who they are, I put a word or two about what they do. Beside the name of my late friend Nan Crocker, I had written "home economist." Crocker, who was born Helen Nan Roemisch in 1935, graduated from the University of California at Santa Barbara with honors and a degree in home economics, and was employed by the research-and-development kitchens of the Southern California Gas Co. and Lawry's Foods.

Before she died unexpectedly while vacationing in Paris for her birthday last year, Crocker was treasurer for Slow Food Seattle's board of directors, a board on which I also sit. She was instrumental in shaping our mission statement: "Slow Food Seattle seeks to share the pleasures of the table through experiences that heighten awareness of artisanal and sustainable foods of our region and the world." And in a wonderful, lofty space perched above the Pike Place Market, Crocker hosted most of our board meetings.

At her long, French-country table set with thick, mismatched antique wineglasses and colorful old plates, our meetings typically began with informal dinners that were ostensibly potluck. But Crocker's contributions were often ample and interesting enough to render the rest of our offerings superfluous.

I recall in particular a deep red Tomato Tarte Tatín, a savory version of the famous upside-down apple tart, served with a summery Rhone wine and some simply dressed salad greens harvested that afternoon from fellow board member Andrew Stout's Full Circle Farm. On another night, just back from a trip to New York, she just filled a big board with extraordinary cold cuts from her favorite Manhattan delicatessen.

Crocker's sense of style was expressed not only in the Provençale colors and textures that defined her personal space, but also in her manner, at once gracious and authoritative. In her presence, it was easy to rely on her good sense and follow her advice.

"Home economist" is a funny phrase, evocative of another era. But before the world was inhabited by those incongruous characters known as "foodies," home economists were the arbiters of taste. Not long ago, I stumbled on a list of qualifications for home economist that struck me as particularly apt:

• Consideration for others and sense of social justice;

• Good human-resource-management skills;

• Good oral and written communication skills;

• Aptitude for analysis and problem-solving;

• Aptitude for design and creativity;

• Sensitivity in dealing with a wide range of people and issues.

No doubt Crocker would have been amused and gratified by that "sense of social justice" line. Hers blazed like a hurricane lamp in a power outage. "A dedicated philanthropist, she long supported environmental and social-justice causes," says her obituary. "She established the Hestia House in Pasadena; a home for women in transition, and in her will has given generously to the American Friends Service Committee."

Nan's Famous Brownies
Makes 24

The super-moist brownies need to cool for about an hour before they can be cut. They keep very well.

1 cup pecans or hazelnuts
4 ounces unsweetened chocolate
½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup sugar
4 eggs
2 tablespoons brewed espresso (or strong coffee)
1/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup flour
1/4 cup cocoa
1 cup chocolate chips

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and grease and flour a 9-by-13-inch pan.

2. Toast the nuts for 6 minutes, then cool and chop.

3. Melt the chocolate and butter together in a small saucepan over very low heat and set aside to cool.

4. In a medium mixing bowl, beat the sugars and eggs together until light. Stir in the melted chocolate and coffee.

5. In a separate bowl, sift together the salt, flour and cocoa. Fold the flour mixture gently into the chocolate and egg mixture, then fold in the nuts and chocolate chips.

6. Transfer the batter to the prepared pan and bake 25 minutes. Do not over-bake.

A patriot and an activist, Crocker inspired everyone who knew her to work for the common good. Her human-resource and communication skills were formidable. On the Slow Food board, she seemed to know intuitively which job would suit which board member, and she practically assigned us all roles. She also handled all our correspondence with aplomb. Aptitude for design? Creativity? The woman built her own straw-bale home in Ketchum, Idaho! And while she was there, she founded a farmer's market, converted an old house into a successful restaurant, and helped design an innovative development that preserved open space by clustering homes for 30 families in a communal setting.

Looking back, it's hard to think of a better title for this woman who did so much to shape and define both the practical and the esoteric meaning of "home" for so many people who knew her. Nan Crocker was a home economist of the highest order. But the professional descriptors of the term leave out a certain synonym for the phrase that most of us would recognize instantly, "mother." Crocker was one of those, too. And she made a conscious effort to instill in her children and grandchildren her love of cooking and appreciation for the foods of the world.

After Crocker died, our board meetings were suspended for a while. We had lost not only one of our most vital members but also our compass. Finally, when we pulled ourselves together and gathered again, her daughter Nina showed up with a plateful of her mother's brownies. "Mom created this recipe when I was in college, and she used to send them to me. I thought they might help us feel better." Indeed they did.

Greg Atkinson is a contributing editor for Food Arts magazine and a culinary consultant. He can be reached at greg@northwestessentials.com.