I started by taking a beginner Wilton Cake Decorating class at A.C. Moore sometime in 1995 or 1996.  It was a blast, and I was pretty good at it (I think). I followed up with the Level II and Level III classes, and from there I began offering myself up to friends and their go-to cake maker. Friends and co-workers began asking me to make cakes for bridal showers, baby showers, kids birthdays, parents anniversaries, and weddings.

My skills improved markedly over the years; some of the early cakes were not really that good – I was still developing technique. But the later ones turned out pretty good (not quite professional, but better than average). I actually even almost became an instructor; Wilton recruited and accepted me, but the job would have involved me driving three hours round trip twice per week, and the pay wasn’t enough to even cover the cost of gas.

I took photos of just about every cake I ever made, and I thought it would be fun to share them here.  I love looking at these photos, because every one of them tells a story from my life. Since I made the majority of these cakes for family and friends, I was usually present at the events where they were served, so the photo gives me an instant flashback to my past and often brings me a smile or a laugh.

Why did I stop making cakes?

Two reasons: I began to resent the smell of buttercream, and I also developed carpal tunnel syndrome. I’ve since had surgery to repair the carpal tunnel, but I never really got back into making cakes after that. Though, two years ago I briefly re-entered the field to make a wedding cake for a co-worker. But, nothing since then. I’m just not that into it anymore.

Some of my favorite photos and stories after the jump, plus a gallery of all the cakes I could find photos of.

One of my earlier birthday cakes, from a time when most of the men in my life were Yankees fans (and when I possessed a crappy camera, apparently). This particular cake was for my sister’s ex-boyfriend Craig (we’re all still friends, so it’s ok). I have another similar cake that I made for my ex-husband, but I’m not showing that one here. We’re definitely not still friends. A birthday cake for my former co-worker Theresa’s daughter. This one reminds me of Blue Circle Cement, where Theresa and I worked. She’s still there; I moved on rather quickly. But I still have fond memories of my co-workers – so many great people.

Another wonderful memory. This is the first wedding cake I ever made, for my friends Wayne and Cheri in 1996. Also co-workers from Blue Circle Cement. Wayne and I worked together in the lab, and he taught me so much – about cement, about fixing things, about life. He also introduced me to Car Talk on NPR, for which I am eternally grateful. Wayne was much older than me (he was close to retirement when I started working there), but he was truly one of the greatest friends I’ve ever had. Wayne passed away last year, and I’m still crushed by the loss. He and Cheri were a big part of my life back then, in so many ways, and I miss him terribly. Rest in Peace. A birthday cake for my friend Debbie’s son’s 1st birthday. I don’t remember the year; it was definitely not 1994, even though that’s what’s printed on the photo. I’m thinking more like 1999. Debbie was a friend I met through our Daughters of the American Revolution chapter (yep, I’m a DAR). Debbie and I had a lot of fun together back then, but I’m not sure where she is and what she’s doing now. I’ll send some good thoughts out into the universe for her and her family. I hope they’re doing well. For my cousin Gabby’s 8th birthday in 1997. Gabby is 22 now, and probably doesn’t like the Rugrats anymore. This cake was fun; Gabby gave me one of her school folders that had a tiny postage-stamp sized picture of the Angelica character on it. I made a photocopy, enlarged it about a million times, and created a wax-paper stencil that I traced onto the frosted cake with a toothpick. I then did the outline with black buttercream, and filled in the lines with colored gel. She loved it! For my friends Marlene and Chris‘ wedding, in July 1997. One of my favorite cakes. What this picture doesn’t show is where the side of the largest cake got crushed in the box as I was bringing it to their reception hall. My fiance (we got married three months later) drove a Mitsubishi Eclipse at the time, a tiny sports car with an even tinier back seat. The cakes were in the back (why not the trunk? I have no idea), and Mike took a corner too fast or something, sending the cake flying into the wall of the back seat and flattening it on one side. There was a lot of yelling that happened on the rest of the trip (and the rest of the marriage, if we can be honest). Luckily, I always brought extra frosting and decorating bags with me. I managed to disguise the damage, mostly by turning that side of the cake towards the wall. No one noticed. Marlene and Chris will be celebrating their 15th Anniversary this summer, and they just welcomed their beautiful baby girl Jules into the world! Congratulations and best wishes for a lifetime of happiness, you guys!

This is hands-down my favorite cake of all time, made for my friend Kelly’s first baby shower (her baby is now in middle school!). Our friend Jen (party planner extraordinaire) asked me to make a cake using Kelly’s theme – Noah’s Ark. I spent weeks before the shower hand-piping each of those animals out of royal icing and crafting the ark out of gingerbread. I’m still amazed at how cute those little animals all turned out. Days before the shower, I baked the cakes. The night before (I’ve always preferred to work at night), I began to assemble the cake. First, I assembled the bottom tiers. Then I placed the boat cake on top (which was made from half of a football-shaped pan), and decorated everything. Lastly, I thought it would be a good idea to stabilize the layers by inserting a dowel all the way through the center of the tiers. This would prove to be my fatal mistake. About an hour later (around midnight), I noticed that the boat cake had split in half and was beginning to crumble onto the round layer beneath. All the frosting in the world wasn’t going to fix it. My husband was just getting out of work, so I called him frantically crying, begging him to go to the store and buy me shortening, powdered sugar, eggs, and another box of cake mix. When he finally got home with the goods it was around 1:00am, and I had to bake another boat cake, allow it to cool, and then finish decorating the whole thing. Yes, I was up all night. I went to the shower later that morning, having gotten no sleep at all. But that cake looked AWESOME!

This one makes me a little sad. I made it for the wedding of my friends Brian & Julie. It makes me sad because I haven’t seen Brian or Julie since my divorce seven years ago (I hate that friends are often forced to take sides). I guess posting this photo is my way of telling them  how much I miss them and would love to see them again. If anyone still keeps in touch with Brian, will you let him know?

I made this one for my grandparents’ 50th wedding anniversary in 1996. My grandmother cried when she saw it, because she never had a wedding cake; she and Papa had taken their vows in front of a Justice of the Peace and never had a reception. I was so glad I was able to give them the beautiful cake they never had. Grandma & Papa passed away in 2008, within three weeks of each other. They had been married 62 years. 

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Photo gallery below. Click on any of the photos to open the gallery.

I’ve been asked a few times if I have plans for St. Patrick’s Day. My standard answer has been that I did enough St. Patrick’s Day partying during college to last me an entire lifetime. I’ve really had enough. One March 17, my senior year of college, I believe I spent 19 hours straight in Eamonn’s (pictured here, shortly before it was demolished in 2008). Skipped classes, started with breakfast at around 9am, and drank until the bar closed at 4. The memories are foggy, to say the least.

The real answer is that I actually DO have plans for part of St. Patrick’s Day, but I’ve been sworn to secrecy. All will be revealed very, very soon. And I think more than a few of you will be surprised at where I was and what I was doing (nothing illegal or immoral, I promise).

On to the bread. I know that’s why you’re here.

My bestie Shannon sent me her family’s Irish Soda Bread recipe, along with the following note:

Don’t worry, it’s not a sacred family recipe or anything but we have used this particular recipe for as long as I can remember.  There is one change to the recipe that isn’t in there. We soak the raisins the Jameson [Irish Whiskey] for 24 hours prior and it tastes delicious. People soak them in other types of alcohol too. It certainly helps to keep the raisins from soaking up the moisture in the bread while baking.

I’m grateful to Shannon and her family for sharing the recipe – especially the part about the whiskey! Wow. As always, my comments/adjustments/frustrations are in blue.

To all of my readers, Sláinte!

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Irish Soda Bread

(get a printable version here)

Ingredients

• 4 cups sifted flour
• ¼ cup sugar
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 2 tablespoons caraway seeds
• ¼ cup butter
• 2 cup raisins
• 1-1/3 cup buttermilk
• 1 egg
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1 egg yolk, beaten

Instructions:

The day before, place the raisins in a container with enough whiskey to cover (I used Dewar’s White Label, but Jameson Irish Whiskey would be more holiday-appropriate). Let the raisins soak in the whiskey for 24 hours or so. Drain.

Can't you just smell the whiskey???

Sift flour, sugar, salt and baking powder into mixing bowl ; stir in caraway seeds. Cut in butter until mixture looks like coarse meal; stir in raisins. Uh, I forgot to add the raisins at this point. I added them later.

Combine buttermilk, 1 egg and baking soda; stir into flour mixture just enough to moisten dry ingredients. The dough will be VERY wet & sticky at this point.

Turn onto floured board and knead lightly until dough is smooth.You’ll probably need to add a good amount of flour at this point to bring the dough out of major stickiness. It’s okay if it’s still a bit sticky as you continue.

I had to knead the raisins in after making the dough because I FORGOT TO READ THE INSTRUCTIONS. Again.

Shape in a ball and place in a greased 2 qt. casserole. With sharp knife, cut a 4″ cross about ½” deep in center of dough (this makes a decorative top). Brush with egg yolk.

Bake in moderate oven (375°) about 1 hour, or until a cake tester or wooden pick inserted in center of loaf comes out clean.

Cool bread in casserole 10 minutes; remove. Cool on wire rack before cutting. To serve, cut down through loaf to divide in quarters; thinly slice each quarter. Makes one loaf.

Just can't get enough of this bread.

Results:

• First, the reaction from one of my co-workers: “Holy Shit Snacks!”  That’s a quote. I believe the phrase comes from some naughty cartoon he’s trying to get me to watch, but no matter – he liked it. As did my other coworkers, who used polite language to express their pleasure.
• Seriously, this is the best damned Irish Soda Bread I’ve ever made.
• My house smelled like a small-scale distillery for a while as I was making this. Not a drawback.
• When I was adding the caraway seeds, I was worried that it was going to be too much; it was definitely not. The pungent spiciness of the seeds (fruits, actually) was balanced by the sweetness of the raisins and the tang of the residual whiskey.
• I ate half of the loaf myself.

Since I’m more than a little bit Irish, you’d think I’d have my own family recipe for soda bread. No. But, my uncle does. He was kind enough to share with me his very own recipe, which won a medal at the 1994 Thomas Dongan Fèis, an annual Irish cultural festival in Albany, NY that I’d never heard of before I just Googled it.  Click this link for a PDF of Lynch’s Irish Soda Bread. 

• Roast Turkey with Apple Cider Gravy
• Southern Corn Bread Stuffing
• Roasted Acorn Squash
• Sweet Potato-Banana Casserole (sickly sweet side dish thing made by Mom, which probably should have been a dessert)
• Corn Casserole (divine, made by Aunt Claire – I’m hoping she’ll post the recipe here!)
• Steamed Brussels Sprouts & Carrots
• Spiced Cranberry Sauce
• Pecan Pie (again, made by Aunt Claire – recipe please??  It was delish)
• Pumpkin Pie (made by Grandma)
• Tiramisu Toffee Trifle Pie (I varied the recipe a bit – used ladyfingers instead of pound cake for the crust, used Neufchatel cheese instead of mascarpone, and used Cool Whip Lite instead of regular.  Still INCREDIBLE – just ask my co-worker David.)
• 2008 Alsace Willm Gewurztraminer (the perfect white wine for turkey and stuffing – just TRUST ME)

The turkey, gravy, and stuffing have been traditions with me since 1996 – they are tried and true, delicious every time.  I’ll post recipes if anyone requests them…

I love having Thanksgiving at my house on the Saturday after the holiday – it gives me almost two whole days to cook, which is better than a vacation for me!  I just love getting up early (this is the only day I enjoy that), putting on my apron, and spending the entire day puttering around the kitchen, listening to NPR and creating a delicious meal for my family and friends.  Plus it’s easier for my family to travel up here from downstate on the weekend.

I usually try one or two new recipes each year, to add a little gustatory excitement to what can sometimes be an overly-predictable day.  This year, I made a cranberry sauce instead of my usual Cranberry Relish (created by me and posted many many years ago on AllRecipes), mostly because my sister Kristen wasn’t able to make it, and she seems to be the only one who prefers the relish to a sauce.  I also decided to let my mom and aunt bring a side dish, which I usually don’t do (mostly because I’m neurotic about the food I serve.  Mom and Aunt Claire are great cooks, but you never KNOW…)

I made an assortment of appetizers, too (just in case all of my neighbors showed up unexpectedly):

• Stuffed Mushrooms (a family tradition for as long as I’ve been alive)
• Buffalo Wing Dip (stolen from my sister’s friend – it’s basically a combination of chopped grilled chicken, fat free cream cheese, fat free mayo, fat free ranch dressing, shredded reduced-fat cheddar, and enough hot sauce to make it taste like a Buffalo wing.  Heat in the microwave for 5 minutes or so, and……good lord, it’s awesome)
• Crudites, cheese & crackers, olives

A lot of food for 8 people, I know, but isn’t that the point?  I was so worked up from cooking that I forgot to take pictures….I’m so sorry.

Bob and I have enjoyed stuffing and gravy at every meal since Saturday, and I plan to eat every last crumb of that Corn Casserole.  I am bringing the three leftover pies to work this week, one day at a time, for my co-worker David to have for breakfast.  I’ve told him to share, but I don’t think he listens.  The boy loves pie.

So, these are my Thanksgiving traditions – what are yours?  And will you share your recipes?

My brother-in-law, Michael Plotts, passed away last Wednesday evening, February 18, 2009.  He leaves behind his wife Barbara (my husband’s sister), and two beautiful little girls.  Bob and I are utterly heartbroken.  We watched as Michael miraculously rebounded from a dissected aorta last summer, and were ecstatic at his remarkable recovery.  Then, sadly, he was abruptly taken away from us last week. 

Michael was only my brother-in-law for a short period of time, but I feel honored and blessed to have had him as part of my family. He was a brilliant, side-splittingly funny, wickedly charming, and genuinely caring person. His love for his wife and daughters was overwhelmingly evident, and I know that his memory will live on as Morgan and Maddie grow up.

The first time I met Michael was around Thanksgiving, about two years before I married Bob. The four of us (me, Bob, Barb, and Michael) went out for dinner at a German restaurant in Upstate NY. The waiter was Asian, a fact which did not go untouched by Michael’s razor-sharp wit. He remarked to the poor waiter: “There’s nothing sadder than an Asian guy in lederhosen.” I liked Michael immediately.

Since then, I had many occasions to just “hang out” with Michael, Barbara and the girls. Even when Michael was recovering from his illness last summer, he managed to be upbeat, positive and even downright comedic – Bob and I were endlessly entertained by his “U.S. Marshals Version” of the Three Little Pigs game that Morgan and I were playing.

And we’ll always have the photo of him from our wedding, where he gave Barbara “bunny ears” that she didn’t notice until the prints came back from the photographer months later.

I wish I had known him longer, but I am grateful for the time that I had.

Michael, we will miss you terribly. Your daughters are very precious to me and Bob, and we will make sure they grow up knowing how wonderful you were.

Well, Sarah had me pegged, alright.  Noting that my blog has been a little “quiet” lately, she thought that I would be a likely candidate for copying the meme she posted a few days ago.  Well, I shall not disappoint.  Break out the mulled cider (see #5), string up some white lights (see #15), and throw that jolly old fat man in his sleigh…away we go!

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Mostly wrapping paper, because I like to create a beautiful and aesthetically pleasing package.  That being said, if the gift is oddly-shaped, a gift bag is a great alternative.
2. Real tree or artificial? Artificial.  And pre-lit since last year.  I do have fond memories of the real trees of my past: the ones my dad would cut himself from the woods behind our house; and the one that Sarah, Marlene, and I had in our Troy shithole apartment – the tree we had to nail to the windows with string, because the dueling cats kept knocking it over, the same one that got so dry that it closed up like an umbrella and “ate” several of our ornaments.  Remember that one?
3. When do you put up the tree? The weekend after Thanksgiving.
4. When do you take the tree down? January 6.  Isn’t that a rule or something?
5. Do you like eggnog? <gack> No.
6. Favorite gift received as a child? Hmm.  So many.  Probably the AM/FM radio, small, chrome finish, black buttons.  I carried that thing around everywhere.  Must be where I got my love of radio…
7. Hardest person to buy for? My father, hands down.  There’s only so much hunting gear you can buy someone.  Second place: my husband.  He’s the kind of guy who buys what he wants when he wants it, leaving you nothing to choose from for Christmas!
8. Easiest person to buy for? My sisters.  We like the same things.  As a matter of fact, last year Leanne and I bought each other the same EXACT gift.
9. Do you have a nativity scene? Yes, but I haven’t put it out in a while.  The thatched roof on the manger has begun to shed.
10. Mail or email Christmas cards? Mail.  But maybe I’ll try the email thing this year.  I must say, though, I love RECEIVING cards.
11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? I don’t actively remember ever disliking a gift I received, but there is a favorite family story: apparently, my grandparents bought me a Close-and-Play record player when I was little (maybe 4 yrs old).  When Grandma asked me how I liked it, I said “I really hate it.”
12. Favorite Christmas movie? A Christmas Story.  Duh.
13. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Yup.  Hopefully my sisters aren’t reading this… 
14. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Besides Christmas cookies, I don’t really have any Christmas food traditions.
15. Lights on the tree? white.lights.only.
16. Favorite Christmas song? “Christmas Wrapping” by the Waitresses.  It’s just not Christmas without it!  My absolute least favorite: “A Wonderful Christmastime” by Paul McCartney.  I want to kill myself when I hear it.  Seriously.  Just to make it stop.
17. Travel at Christmas or stay home? Usually no travel on Christmas Day itself, though we head down to my parents house on the weekend after.
18. Can you name all of Santa’s reindeer? Yes.
19. Angel on the tree top or a star? Big obnoxious star with white lights.
20. Open presents Christmas Eve or morning? Both, because Bob likes to open gifts on Christmas Eve, and I like to save them for Christmas morning.
21. Most annoying thing about this time of the year? Getting accosted by charities when shopping.  I will drop some money into the Salvation Army kettles, because they don’t chase you down as you enter/leave the store.  I have been known to exit the store from a different entrance, much further away from my car, after telling a girl soliciting for military families (I think) that I’d give her some money on my way out.  Thank God Al Gore invented the internet, so I don’t have to go the mall anymore.
22. Favorite ornament theme or color? Nope.  Which for me is surprising.  I just like to hang up all the ornaments that I’ve had since Nursery school.  I seriously have one for every year I’ve been alive.  Thanks, Mom!  And Mom just bought me a new 2008 one from Disney World!
23. What do you want for Christmas this year? I don’t know.  I truly have everything I need, and just about everything I want.  The only thing lacking is some self-discipline, but I don’t think that’s available at Target (yet).
24. Who is most likely to respond to this? Probably no one.  <sigh>
25. Who is least likely to respond to this? Everyone I know.

This first one was taken at 5:30am at the McDonald’s in Albany International Airport.  It was the sign on the machine that made me laugh.  You can’t see it very well in the photo, but here’s what it says:

“DO NOT PLACE ANYTHING UNDER MCFLURRY MACHINE, DRINKMAKERS, OR DISPENSERS.”

This next one is one I honestly need help deciphering.  It was taken in the Detroit Airport this afternoon, while we were sitting at the bar enjoying a cocktail.  The bottle in the center of the (very blurry) photo is a bottle of Gentleman Jack – which is a new whisky, “charcoal mellowed twice”, made by Jack Daniels.  My question regards the thing upon which it is sitting: is that a scale, some sort of inventory control device?  I’ve never seen one before, and was hoping someone out there might know.  Please help!

Your next question is: what were you doing in Kentucky?  I was visiting my in-laws, who have a hot tub.  Yee haw!  (Oh, and we met up with some of Bob’s family, too.)  I’m happy to be back in crappy upstate NY.  I hate being friendly to strangers, which is apparently some kind of LAW out there.

My point? A very strange thing happened to me while I was there, something I am hesitant to even describe, since I’m typically what you would call a “disbeliever”. Remember back in June when I posted the piece I wrote about my Grandma’s banana bread? In it, I mentioned that I had never acquired my Grandmother’s recipe, because I didn’t think she had one. Anyway, while Mom and I were cleaning out the food cupboard, a pile of papers fell out onto the counter. My mother scooped up the papers, and went to toss them into the trash bag. One (and only one) piece of crinkly yellowed paper fluttered to a stop on the counter in front of me:

What would you think? I was a little freaked, to say the least.  And not because she spelled bananas wrong (twice).

We’re keeping our fingers crossed that he’ll be on a plane back home on Sunday afternoon.

Any thoughts or prayers you may have left over would be much appreciated.

♣♣♣♣♣♣♣

On a much happier note, I was delighted to learn that Sarah and Marlene (and Marlene’s hubby) will be traveling up here for the July 4th weekend – which I believe is next weekend, if I’m not mistaken! Yippee! The Hotel Voelker is happily accepting reservations.

Oh, and an extraordinarily weird small-world moment happened to me today: I found out that my husband went to high school with one of my good friends from college, who also will be traveling up here next weekend. Boy, I’m hoping that Mike P. has some embarrassing stories about Bob – I need some ammunition. Right now, I got nothin’.

As I wrote earlier, my grandmother passed away last week. While this was not a shock, it certainly was very sad. My grandma had been ill for a very long time, and I knew she wouldn’t be with us very much longer. But, you always think you’re going to have more time. So, when my little sister called me at work to tell me she had died, I cried for a very long time.

Luckily, those tears did not contain any regret. I visited my grandmother whenever I could, and I always told her I loved her. I know I did not leave anything unsaid. I’m glad about that. I’ll miss my grandma something awful, but I know that she knew how much I loved her. I was honored to have my family ask me to deliver the eulogy at the funeral service. It was probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life, but I was glad I had the opportunity to share memories of Grandma with a room full of people who loved her like I did.

Sadly, my grandfather (her husband) had been in the hospital for about a week when my grandma died. My dad and uncles went to his hospital room to tell him the news, and he took it very hard. The next morning, his doctor told my dad that he didn’t expect him to survive the day. We all thought we would be planning a double funeral that week.

Astonishingly, Papa rallied around 10:00am – I was sitting in the room, crying, when he woke up and declared that he had to use the bathroom. Then he wanted a bowl of cornflakes. We couldn’t believe our eyes. Since then, he’s been awake, more or less lucid, but not any healthier. We know it’s only a matter of time. He’ll likely never come home again.

While this was all going on, we received word that my brother-in-law suffered a ruptured aortic aneurysm, while traveling for his work. He’s only 47 years old, so this news was mind-blowing. But, miracle of all miracles, he did not die. He endured 2 lengthy surgeries to repair the damage, and spent nearly a week in an induced coma. Just yesterday, he was brought out of the coma, and is now out of bed and doing okay. We are receiving daily updates from my sister-in-law (his wife), detailing his incredible progress. It’s unbelievable.

I’m having a hard time processing all of the events of the past week. Some days it just seems too much to handle. Other days I marvel at the miracles of life and modern medicine.

I do know, though, that I’ve learned a few things from this whole experience, which is far from over:

• Sometimes, your Dad needs a hug from you more than you need a hug from him.
• Never take anything for granted – it can be taken from you at any time.
• If you love someone you need to tell them. Now. It can’t wait.

Good thoughts, cosmic waves, prayers – whatever it is you do, I’d love it if you could send some our way.

Grandma’s Banana Bread

Comfort foods. They evoke images of childhood, of family dinners where there were more arguments than peas, and of Sunday afternoons sitting at Grandma’s kitchen table. As I think of my two favorite comfort foods – pancakes and banana bread – Grandma’s kitchen is the place that instantly appears in my mind’s eye.

It’s still the same farmhouse kitchen, if not a little more worn, since Grandma and Papa are getting older and less inclined to fix up the place. The table is just a little too big for the cramped space, with countertops flanking the table on the other two sides, leaving barely enough room to pull out a chair or open the oven. The chairs aren’t all original to the set, but it’s still the same table they’ve always had.

That kitchen, has seen hundreds of people come and go over the years. Neighbors stopping by for a quick cup of coffee and an update on the latest gossip. Fellow farmers dropping in to see about borrowing some equipment or to ask for a helping hand. Friends who just happened to be driving by, walking in the door to say hello on their way through town. Brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, sons, daughters-in-law, cousins, and grandchildren…making themselves at home in that kitchen, which was warmed by the oven, and the love coming from my grandma.

When we were young, my sister and I would arrive after church and Grandma would become a short-order cook, making eggs to-order and her famous pancakes. She made her pancakes from scratch – and she never used a recipe. Some flour, some baking powder, some milk… She’d make as many as we wanted, and if we were especially good, we just might get the special mouse-eared pancake, or the turtle-shaped one.

We’d slather those pancakes with butter, and my sister would pour on some dark Karo corn syrup. I always opted for raspberry preserves. Then on the second and third, I’d sprinkle on some white sugar, and roll them up and eat them like burritos. That’s about as many pancakes as I would eat, because my mother would tell me I was eating too much. (She was right. I’m still trying to lose that weight. Somehow, though, it was all worth it.)

It wasn’t just us, though, who enjoyed those delicious pancakes. Those same people who stopped by just to say hello usually gave in and ate a few. The men who went hunting with my dad and uncles were fed and sent out to the woods with a full belly. People came and went, and they often took some pancakes with them.

My Grandma is also famous for her banana bread. I remember cutting through slice after slice, spreading on the butter, and washing it all down with cold milk, straight from the cows across the road. It seemed that Grandma always had a loaf or two in the freezer, and one on the counter in case company dropped by. If she didn’t happen to have one made, there were definitely some brown bananas hanging around, waiting to be mashed up for the next batch. Even now, that cloyingly sweet aroma of ripening bananas takes me back to my childhood and that red-shingled house with its tiny kitchen. At least that’s my excuse when I ask myself why I’ve let yet another bunch of perfectly good bananas go rotten.

As with the pancakes, Grandma used no recipe for her banana bread; in fact, I don’t recall ever seeing a cookbook in my grandparent’s house. Not that Grandma needed one – cooking for a bunch of farmers required neither fancy techniques nor exotic ingredients. Flour, sugar, milk, baking powder, bananas. There were probably more ingredients, but I never paid attention to the process – I was only interested in the result. And what a result: Golden brown on the outside, with a light brown inside flecked with dark pieces of cooked bananas. Moist and slightly sweet, with a tender, almost juicy crumb.

Grandma would wrap the cooled loaves first in waxed paper, then in foil, creating a beautiful package with a neat fold on the top. I always appreciated that carefully folded package because of its contents. When I came home from college during the holidays, Grandma would always have a loaf or two waiting for me in the freezer. I tried, but sometimes that bread didn’t even survive the three-hour drive back to Albany. Yes, it’s true – I’ve eaten half-frozen banana bread.

When I managed to exhibit some self-control, my friends were extremely grateful. The bread became a sort of currency, like cigarettes in prison: A slice of that golden brown banana bread could be traded for a six-pack of cheap American beer. Friends (some I hadn’t seen all semester) magically arrived at my door, having detected the irresistible scent of bananas and love. Every last delectable crumb of that heavenly loaf was usually gone within four hours of my return to the dorm. But I didn’t worry; Easter (or Christmas) break would be coming soon, and Grandma would have another loaf ready for me when I got there. If I was lucky, maybe two.

Sadly, Grandma doesn’t cook much anymore. She’s in her seventies, and her health is failing. Fatigue and occasional stays in the hospital keep her out of the kitchen, except to heat up the kettle for a cup of that instant coffee that she and Papa seem to survive on. But her pancakes and banana bread are the stuff of legend, and I’m trying to teach myself her recipes because I don’t expect her to make them for me anymore. I’ve experimented with countless banana bread recipes, and they’ve all been delicious in their own right. They just aren’t Grandma’s.