My Every Day, Extraordinary
Super Mom
I have been
wracking my brain, trying to recall an event or incident that fully describes
the essence of my mother, Val; one that encapsulates how extraordinary she
is. Here in lies the problem: nothing in
particular comes to mind. Nothing stands
out from the rest. Sure, she has been
there to fight for me when my sophomore English teacher did not want to let me
out of 10th period early enough to make an away field hockey
game. She baked countless batches of
chocolate chip cookies for school parties and bake sales. Chauffeur, prom gown seamstress, brownie
troop leader, the list of sacrifices goes on and on. Still nothing.
I recently wrote
in a letter to a publisher: “So, who is
Val? She’s my mother and I wrote the
[cook] book about her. It seemed there
isn’t anything she can’t do. She
refinishes furniture, makes wedding gowns and farms her own organic garden.
Then she takes a break to make dinner: quahog chowder with homemade bread or
barbecued chicken with a cool and creamy cucumber salad and blueberry pie for
dessert.” It’s all true, pretty awesome day in and day out. If you know Val, you can vouch for me.
In my attempt to
find that “nugget” of a memory that would tell the complete story, perfectly
depicting my mother’s love, I’ve come to realize that the mundane stuff, the
everyday, small acts of caring, are what is the most important. I actually had this epiphany when I was
rigging up a pair of adult sized headphones for my five year old daughter to
wear on her tiny head. Sometimes, tying my son’s shoes for the tenth time in
one day, can grate on my nerves, still other moments I cherish as I acknowledge
the swiftly passing time. The little things
I took for granted from my own childhood have formed pebble by pebble into a
mountain of memories. Crisp clothes fresh from the clothes line, going to the
beach every day for swimming lessons during summer vacation, even when storm
clouds threatened (“You need to learn to
swim in all types of weather!”), clichéd phrases: “You’re treading on thin
ice!”, a favorite meal to celebrate my birthday, it was all Val’s way to say,
“I love you.”
One day in these
last few years (it has all run together for me ), an elderly woman stopped me
in the grocery store while I was trying to control my unruly children who both
wanted to push the carriage without the help of the other one.
“The days are long
but the years are short…” she said with a wistful smile.
At that moment I
was thinking about how incredibly long my day had already been trying to keep
Ava and Declan from killing each other.
I smiled and nodded my head in agreement.
I think of that
phrase often as my children are growing up so fast. How did Ava get to be five years old
already? How am I forty? Where did all of those moments go? The ones that the parenting magazines tell
you to put in a scrap book or a time capsule?
Just like kids do, it’s easy for moms and dads to take mundane life for
granted, too. It makes me wonder if Val ever felt frustrated and too tired to
make dinner or help with homework.
That’s when it hit me. Of course
she was tired and overwhelmed and sick of explaining fractions for the
umpteenth time. The thing is, I never
knew it.
I can only hope to
strive to be like Val: patient and loving even when it seemed like I didn’t
deserve it. She created a consistent
life where it was safe to be a little naughty and “tread on thin ice!” because
I knew she would still love me. She has
always been there to pick me up when I fall down or just to lend a helping hand
when I feel like I’m failing.
I just got annoyed
because I had to stop writing yet again to see why my son is crying. He has
been fussing all afternoon over his sister’s teasing and a toy that won’t work
the way he wants it to. As I got out of
my chair and stormed over to the door in disgust, I saw that he had fallen and
scraped his knee. Real tears ran down
his cheeks as he said between sobs, “I-I want my m-m-mommy!” My feelings of frustration
gave way to a desire to comfort when I scooped him up and held him close to
shush his sobs and wipe his tears. He
nestled his face into the crook of my neck and took a long deep breath. Just the kind I like to do when I hug my own
mother and inhale her perfume. It may not seem extraordinary to anyone else,
but it is always there when I need it.
Enjoy these breads
toasted and smeared with butter and jam for breakfast, served with ice cream
for dessert or like Val does, alongside a cup of hot cocoa. They are versatile and understated. She bakes a batch and puts a few in the
freezer so there is always a snack at the ready for comforting a small child’s
bruised shins or an adult child’s bruised ego.
Lemon Poppy Seed Cake
(Makes 3 small loaves)
½ cup (1 stick)
unsalted butter at room temperature
1 1/2 cup sugar,
divided
3 eggs
2 teaspoons lemon
extract
grated rind of one
lemon
¼ cup poppy seeds
2 cups flour
1 cup buttermilk
1 ½ teaspoons
baking powder
½ teaspoon baking
soda
pinch of salt
½ cup lemon juice
Preheat oven to
350 degrees. Grease and dust with flour 3 small loaf pans (6”x3”x2”).
In a large mixing
bowl, cream together butter and 1 cup sugar for two minutes, scraping down
sides of bowl with a rubber spatula until light and fluffy. Add the eggs, one
by one beating well after each addition. Beat in lemon rind, lemon extract and
poppy seeds.
Add 1 cup flour,
beat well. Add buttermilk, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Beat in
remaining cup of flour until just mixed. Pour into prepared pans. Bake for
35-45 minutes until golden brown and a knife inserted comes out clean.
While loaves are
baking, in a saucepan, combine ½ cup sugar and lemon juice to make syrup. Heat
until sugar dissolves. Remove from heat and let rest until loaves are done
cooking.
Poke small holes
in top of cooked warm loaves with a toothpick. Pour syrup over top of loaves
reserving a small portion of syrup for the bottom of the loaves. Let rest for 15 minutes. Turn loaves out onto
a cooling rack and brush bottoms of loaves with remaining syrup. Cool
completely, slice and serve.
*Can be wrapped
tightly in plastic wrap and frozen.
Holiday Cranberry Bread
(Makes 3 small loaves or one large)
2 cups flour
1 cup sugar
1 ½ teaspoons
baking powder
½ teaspoon baking
soda
1 teaspoon salt
grated rind and
juice from one orange
2 tablespoons
butter (very soft)
¾ cup boiling
water
1 egg
1 ½ cups raw
cranberries, cut in half by hand*
½ cup chopped
walnuts
Grease 3 small
loaf pans or one large one.
In a mixing bowl,
sift together flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Set aside.
In a large mixing
bowl, combine orange rind, juice, soft butter, boiling water, and egg. Add dry ingredients, cranberries and walnuts.
Mix by hand (as not to crush cranberries) until combined. Pour into prepared pans
and let stand for 20 minutes. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Bake a large sized
loaf for 60-70 minutes and the smaller loaves for 25-35 minutes until the top
is golden brown and a knife inserted comes out clean. Cool on wire rack for 10
minutes and turn bread out of pan(s) back onto rack to continue cooling for at
least 30 minutes. Slice and serve.
*Val cuts each
cranberry in half to reveal star pattern in the middle of the fruit. It makes a
better presentation and larger chunks than chopping them in the food processor.
Do what you like.
Andrea Norris lives in East Falmouth, just
a few miles away from a comforting hug and a warm slice of Lemon Poppy Seed
Cake. Check out her blog: http://www.notesfromvalskitchen.blogspot.com
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