Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Mom? Can I Have a Taste?

Mom and her mixer. The source of all that was delicious 

Mom was in the kitchen.
Baking.
My favourite thing.
I was in my usual spot.
Seated on the cupboard beside her Sunbeam mixer.
That maker of all things delicious.
She added something to the mixture already in the bowl and turned on the beaters.
Mmmmm.
Could anything look better?
I leaned closer.
“Mom? Can I have a taste?”
“Honey, it’s just sugar and butter and eggs.”
“But it looks so good!”
“Okay.”
She stuck the tip of the spatula into the batter and held it up for me.
I leaned in and licked.
It was delicious!
Mom just shook her head, rinsed the spatula and continued adding ingredients.
“Mom? Can I have another taste?”
“In a moment, dear. It’s almost ready.”
I sighed and fidgeted impatiently.
Finally, she added one last ingredient.
Vanilla.
I should mention here that vanilla smells much better than it tastes.
Just FYI.
Then she got a spoon and gave me a dollop of batter.
Mmmmm. Even better than the last taste.
“What is it?” I licked the spoon.
“White cake.”
“I like white cake.”
“I know.”
Mom scraped the batter into a cake pan and shoved the pan into the oven.
I looked around.
Usually, by this time, the sound of the mixer had attracted all the youngsters in the vicinity.
And some of the adults as well.
But there was no one.
The world was mine!
“Mom? Can I lick the bowl?”
Licking the bowl.
That ultimate in rewards.
That oft hoped-for and seldom granted treat of treats.
I should point out that it didn’t actually involve ‘licking’ the bowl.
Mostly it consisted of running a spatula around the inner surfaces, catching every minute spec of deliciousness.
Okay and there was some licking involved.
Mom set me on the floor and handed me the bowl and spatula.
I sat where I landed and started in.
Could life possibly offer anything better?
Moving ahead . . .
I was making banana bread this morning.
My fourth granddaughter was seated on the cupboard beside me, mouth sticky from ‘tastes’.
I spooned the batter into pans and put them into the oven.
“Grandma? Can I lick the bowl?”
The circle is complete.



11 comments:

  1. Somehow you managed to put a hug into a post.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Love this. I find myself stopping short when I realize I am passing something on to my twins that my parents or grandparents passed on to me.

    Visiting from No Ordinary Blog Hop.

    http://momontherunx2.blogspot.com

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for stopping by, Julia! Doesn't it make you smile when that happens?

      Delete
  3. How true, lol... I hope my little grandson Jackson will do that when he comes here for a visit this summer... Of course he will have to fight Valentina for it :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. There are two sides to the mixer. Grandson on one side. Daughter on the other. Life is perfect! Have fun! :)

      Delete
  4. If I HAD a mixer, this would happen more often... :)P

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Er . . . uh . . . yeah. Is it in my garage?

      Delete
    2. We got an old one from my husby's sister, but it doesn't 'mix', it just plugs in and whirrs...

      Delete

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