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| The source of all that was delicious. |
Baking.
My favourite thing.
I was in my usual spot. 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.”
“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 asked as 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.
What is better than the memory of licking the bowl or the beaters? Wonderful you are able to give your grand daughter these same memories!
ReplyDeleteSometimes life just . . . works, doesn't it? :)
DeleteI always had a tussle with both the hubs and the daughter wanting to lick the bowl.
ReplyDeleteYeah. That's when family competition is the greatest. And a large family? Whooo!
DeleteThis post makes me so happy. I remember the first time I handed my kids the beaters to lick. They weren't the only ones smiling!
ReplyDeleteSomehow it just tastes better when it's your kids doing it! :)
DeleteBig smiles.
ReplyDeleteAnd memories of war over whose turn it was to lick the bowl.
Oh, those wars . . .
DeleteLicking the bowl is one of my favourite childhood memories, I remember mum leaving enough batter around the sides of the bowl so we could share. One big bowl, three kids, three spoons. But we had to do the licking outside and get hosed off before we came in.
ReplyDeletePerfect!
DeleteMmmm ... raw dough and raw batter ... and now it's all spoiled for me with the "no raw eggs" and "no uncooked flour" warnings!! But I have my memories ...
ReplyDeleteSometimes the new warnings try to spoil the old memories . . .
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I guess I was lucky in only having one sibling - there were always 2 beaters to clean!
ReplyDelete