Connecting with the Past

Yesterday was a very happy, productive day for me.  I spent most of the day baking.

I have always loved to bake, but during the years that I worked full-time, it fell by the wayside.

After I retired, I often thought about baking, but then wondered who would eat what I baked, and realized it would be me and my husband, and because we don't need the extra calories, I didn't bake.

But American Thanksgiving is tomorrow, and so I baked.

I used the rolling pin my grandmother gave me, and as I made and rolled pie crust, I remembered my grandmother patiently teaching me how to make pie dough, and how to roll the dough so the it had an even thickness.

I thought about for all that my dad was an amazing cook and baker, he never could master pie crust, and remembered him watching me make pie crust with a sort of wonder that I always got it to turn out well.

I made cinnamon sticks with the leftover pie dough, which is what we did in my family.  I wondered if other people used the pie dough scraps this way, so I posted a picture on Facebook, and got numerous responses and deepened my connections with my friends and family.

I made pumpkin tarts from a recipe on Pinterest, and when all the tart shells were full, I had leftover filling.  So, I added the rest of the pumpkin, and flour and baking powder, and baking soda and salt, and made pumpkin drop cookies with buttercream icing.  It felt really good to know that I know how to combine ingredients without a recipe to make baked goods.

I love the science and alchemy of baking.  I use alchemy in the second definition found in Merriam-Webster:

A power or process that changes or transforms something in a mysterious or impressive way.

I've always felt that baking had a magic to it.  I love the way the pastry has flaky layers as the baking process transforms that solid dough into layers.  I love the way baking powder causes the cookie or cake batter to rise and have lightness.  I love the way the butter and powdered sugar combine with a little milk and vanilla into perfectly creamy icing.  I love the way the cinnamon sugar is changed by melting into the dough and then cooling.

I posted pictures of everything I baked on Facebook, and got many positive responses, provoking even more happy memories.  My godfather, my Uncle Bill, was a great baker, and my sister, my daughter and my niece all were reminded of Uncle Bill as I went on my baking spree.

One of the things I had forgotten about baking is how much it connects me with my past.  My Grandmother, Uncle Bill and my Dad were all in the kitchen with me yesterday afternoon as I went about my baking.

And because for me, scent or smell is a powerful evocator of memory, the fragrances in the kitchen brought back many happy memories of days and years gone by.  I remembered baking with my grandmother as a small child, with my mom and dad in later years, and then with my daughter when she was small.

The physical action of rolling pie dough, although something I haven't done for years, was as familiar as if I had done it yesterday.  At the end of the day, I was filled with a true sense of contentment, proud of the day's accomplishments, and happy with the products of my work.

As I sat on the couch and crocheted, I thought about my Aunt Nini, and how much she loved to crochet.  I am so very grateful that I was taught so many of the domestic arts as a child, because they connect me so tangibly to the people who taught them to me.

I realized as I was working yesterday, that no matter what is happening in the world, no matter what distress or upheaval exists, I can create an oasis of calm for myself by using the domestic arts to connect with my past.

I am once again in awe of the gifts I have been given in my life.  The family I was born into.  The lessons my family taught me.  The skills my family helped me to develop.

As I think about American Thanksgiving and what I am thankful for, the list is too long to enumerate.  And having a list too long is definitely what I am most thankful for.