Since I returned from vacation in New York with the family, I've been thinking about / missing my (maternal) grandmother a bit more than is the norm. Whenever we go up north to our cottage, we stop by the graves of the grandparents and this year, because my brother came up a few days after did, we wound up visiting the cemetery twice. Not a bad thing at all, just...more difficult. And watching Brianna frolic around the cottage just like I did when I was that age was tough. In the way that, at the same time, is positively heartwarming.
I used to spend time at the cottage over the summer with just my grandmother and grandfather. Both of my grandfathers tended to favour my brother and my maternal grandmother favoured me. I have no doubt she loved each one of her grandchildren dearly and I think that was obvious to each one of us. But we just had a special bond.
One of my favourite things to do was play games. Scrabble, Gin Rummy, Sorry, Uno...I have no idea how many hours the two of us spent sitting at the table while my grandfather watched the news or a read a book. And when we weren't doing that, we were doing what I loved to do most with her...baking.
We baked the best date nut cookies ever and those awesome peanut butter ones with the Hershey's Kisses on top. But pies were my that woman's specialty. When she and my grandfather lived in Florida, she made pies for everybody...neighbours, the mailman, anyone who would eat one, I think. Some of the best memories I have are ones of the time I spent with her at the lake in the kitchen. And thanks to what I believe is my vacation and the fact that cooler weather is coming, I've had a huge desire lately to sharpen the ol' baking skills. I've put it off for a bit because I'm one girl and I don't want to eat everything I bake but don't really have a bunch of people with whom I can share. But I've decided, fuck that. Maybe I'll bring stuff to work. Maybe I'll leave something for the mailman. Maybe I'll be the weird girl in the building who bakes things for neighbours she hardly knows. Maybe I'll send some to friends and family. We'll see what trips my trigger when the time comes for consumption.
I suck at cooking and I don't at all enjoy it. Its carefree, experimental "throw in a pinch" aspect of it...well, throws me. But baking? Baking, I dig. I'm an 'order and direction' kind of girl and I like to know things in explicit and exact terms. How many eggs will make my brownies chewy and not cake-like? How much corn starch will turn pudding into solid brick? I want a recipe to give me those answers, I want to follow the directions in said recipe, and I want to take something out of the oven that is a finished product of deliciousness.
So, today at lunch, I strolled over to
Borders and completed Step #1.
I'm going to browse through them a bit tonight and tomorrow and bake my first...something...over the weekend.
On the way back from the bookstore, I made a pit stop at Daley Plaza to walk through the
Farmers Market, with the intention of picking up something on the healthy side for lunch.
It didn't work. The flavour was super yummy but the consistency of the filling was a little too gelatinous for my taste (not nearly as good as my grandmother's pies..or the ones my mother makes, who may very well be the maker of the world's best pies). But, combined with some milk, it totally hit the lunchtime spot.
And has left me seriously leaning toward baking a pie this weekend.
