I can't believe Neatorama put this article up. It is sickening. I check out this website for cool, campy articles - not this! Please... consider taking it down. It's really disturbing.
If I win a book, terrific, but I write this so I can share with everyone how special my grandmother was. My fondest memory of Grandma was baking Grandma's Recipe, a dessert that was a modern version of apricot jelly rolls. It was a recipe passed down from her grandmother from Russia that survived through the generations.
I was six or seven years old in Grandma's kitchen. I remember it being a dimly lit area with a fake brick floor. For such an exciting place, it was rather dark. I had always thought of the kitchen as off limits to anyone but Grandma. Her business took place there, and it was no one else's business to really be in there while she was at work. Knowing that we were going to bake together was thrilling, at the very least for having access to this sacred place and all of its countless wonders...utensils! There was so much to play with and discover! Metal spoons, wooden spoons, spatulas, sifters, measuring spoons, wire wisks, graters, wax paper (which I always thought was the coolest) - opening up a kitchen drawer was an electrifying experience!
On this day, I remember there being flour all over the counter for when she would roll out the dough. I remember standing on a foot stool, leaning over the counter beside Grandma, and watching her as she baked. These memories always make me feel good, but what I really smile about when I think about it is how she would talk me through every step of the recipe. Being a little girl, she would sing song all of the instructions and exaggerate her words. "Now we need threeeeeeeee teaspoons of lemon juice. I want you to slooooooooo...ly measure 3 teaspoons of lemon juice using these measuring spoons.... Attagirl! ....Make sure to really roooooo......ll out that dough, Ali. There ya go! Very nice!"
I loved my Grandma for making me her little helper. It made me feel important and big, not just for the fact that I was doing some of the work, but that I was doing this work with Grandma - in her kitchen. That was a big deal for a me! I had assumed a position in Grandma's Kitchen, and I was so proud! It was what made my days at Grandma's house.
The last time I made Grandma's Recipe with Grandma was about 7 or 8 years ago. She passed away last December, and the years before that she was suffering with dementia. Early on, when the dementia quietly began to creep in, my mother and I would discuss getting the recipe written down on paper. Obviously, Grandma had it in her head, and no one knew it but her. Fortunately, we did write it down with her before it was too late. I haven't made it on my own yet - why, I don't know. But I think that now after writing this entry, I'll give it go. And I'll be thinking of Grandma guiding me and singsonging each step the whole way through.
I was six or seven years old in Grandma's kitchen. I remember it being a dimly lit area with a fake brick floor. For such an exciting place, it was rather dark. I had always thought of the kitchen as off limits to anyone but Grandma. Her business took place there, and it was no one else's business to really be in there while she was at work. Knowing that we were going to bake together was thrilling, at the very least for having access to this sacred place and all of its countless wonders...utensils! There was so much to play with and discover! Metal spoons, wooden spoons, spatulas, sifters, measuring spoons, wire wisks, graters, wax paper (which I always thought was the coolest) - opening up a kitchen drawer was an electrifying experience!
On this day, I remember there being flour all over the counter for when she would roll out the dough. I remember standing on a foot stool, leaning over the counter beside Grandma, and watching her as she baked.
These memories always make me feel good, but what I really smile about when I think about it is how she would talk me through every step of the recipe. Being a little girl, she would sing song all of the instructions and exaggerate her words. "Now we need threeeeeeeee teaspoons of lemon juice. I want you to slooooooooo...ly measure 3 teaspoons of lemon juice using these measuring spoons.... Attagirl! ....Make sure to really roooooo......ll out that dough, Ali. There ya go! Very nice!"
I loved my Grandma for making me her little helper. It made me feel important and big, not just for the fact that I was doing some of the work, but that I was doing this work with Grandma - in her kitchen. That was a big deal for a me! I had assumed a position in Grandma's Kitchen, and I was so proud! It was what made my days at Grandma's house.
The last time I made Grandma's Recipe with Grandma was about 7 or 8 years ago. She passed away last December, and the years before that she was suffering with dementia. Early on, when the dementia quietly began to creep in, my mother and I would discuss getting the recipe written down on paper. Obviously, Grandma had it in her head, and no one knew it but her. Fortunately, we did write it down with her before it was too late. I haven't made it on my own yet - why, I don't know. But I think that now after writing this entry, I'll give it go. And I'll be thinking of Grandma guiding me and singsonging each step the whole way through.