Wednesday, August 10, 2011

My House Smells Like Blueberry Muffins

I feel a huge connection to the past when I cook.

I remember:
stirring sauces with my sister
snapping beans with my cousins
my own little Blondie husking corn when she was wee small

When my siblings and I were young, we'd wake from our afternoon nap to the smell of cookies Mom had been busily baking in our absence. I use recipes written in my grandmother's handwriting and recall asking her how she cut the delicate, wheat-like slits in her pie crust. So cooking is a walk down Memory Lane for me. I can't help but think of all these characters in my life when I'm in the kitchen.

I'm hoping the kitchen will be a place of remembrance for my kids too. I challenge C to "lasagna bake-offs." I let them lick batter from the beater and eat cookie dough. And I'm pretty sure I'm on the right track. After Blondie and I made blueberry muffins the other night, The Boy returned home with one of his friends who exclaimed, "It smells like blueberry muffins in here—I wish my house smelled like blueberry muffins!" Now I may just always keep a box of muffin mix in the cabinet : )

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