Stuff and Nonsense: Memories of Baking With Mom


2.07.2019

Memories of Baking With Mom

I'm baking a pumpkin bundt using a mix of my baking things and Mom's and it's kind-of ... nice? As if, even though she's not here and will never be here again, she is still with me? When I was a small child, Mom and I baked together all the time. I had a little wooden footstool I would stand on to reach the counter properly and she would give me bowls to mix together or eggs to crack or nuts to chop in the hand chopper. I loved that hand chopper. It was a very simply device -- just a glass jar with a screw on plastic lid and a metal X-shaped blade on a rod. It looked very much like this Gemco-Ware one:


I'd lean forward on my little stool, push up my sleeves, and chop with all my might until those nuts were chopped. I'll admit there was more than one batch of nuts that ended up chopped a bit more than my mother needed. She usually asked me to chop the nuts coarsely or medium coarsely, but I would get a little hepped up and Hulk smash the chopper until the nuts were rather finely chopped. With a little instruction, I eventually mastered all the sizes and learned which were appropriate for what recipe. Really, Mom taught me a lot about cooking without me realizing it -- just having me in the kitchen withe her, observing and experiencing, helped me absorb her teachings in what I thought, as a wee kidlet, was just another form of play.

Unfortunately, as I grew older, I was much more resistant to helping my Mom in the kitchen. Part of that was the usual teenage contrariness, but I think some of it was a withholding of self. My mother had been in a terrible car accident when I was eight and spent many months in the hospital before she could come home and even when she came home it was a very long time before she was anything like the mother I'd known. Having been without her for so long and so suddenly cognizant of her mortality, I fear I withheld some of myself from her and we lost a lot of our old intimacy.

Later as I, an adult, slowly opened my self up to the prospect of romantic love, it was also easier to open up to my mother and return to something like our earlier relationship. We sewed together, swapped recipes, and had a few deeply intimate conversations about things I never thought I'd discuss with my mother. We were good. And then she died so abruptly and I find myself wanting to shout that we weren't done yet, we were really only beginning, and it's not fair.


So I am baking a pumpkin bundt cake using a mix of my baking things and Mom's, because even though she can't be here I can still remember all the baking we did do together and I can still bake the things we would have baked together.

My pumpkin bundt uses a modified version of Betty Crocker's "Pumpkin Bread" recipe. I used finely chopped toasted pecans, a medley of raisins (because they're pretty and more interesting), and mace instead of nutmeg. I also threw in a ½ teaspoon of ground ginger and used whole white wheat flour, because that's all I have on hand these days.