Thanksgiving is underway at our house already. Last night, my mother and grandmother started cooking together; an event that usually marks the beginning of the holiday season when baking or frying needs to happen in bulk. The smells of chopped onions, peppers, salmon, and potato hung in the air as the pan sizzled, and I, from a distant corner of the house, felt comforted by the familiar sound of their feet shuffling around each other; their voices cooing over the taste of their savories.
And then there's sweets. My grandmother will stand for hours in the kitchen just before Thanksgiving through the week before Christmas sifting, mixing and molding flour, sugar, chocolate, dried fruit and marzipan into the most mouth-watering treats. I've watched her bake and her talent is so acute that her recipes transcend conventional notation; held in her head as a "flick of this" and a "dusting of that".
Watching her makes me hungry for baking traditions of my own...
And then there's sweets. My grandmother will stand for hours in the kitchen just before Thanksgiving through the week before Christmas sifting, mixing and molding flour, sugar, chocolate, dried fruit and marzipan into the most mouth-watering treats. I've watched her bake and her talent is so acute that her recipes transcend conventional notation; held in her head as a "flick of this" and a "dusting of that".
Watching her makes me hungry for baking traditions of my own...
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