This meal is a myth of partial perspectives. In one, my head peaks over the table and tries to pull the dough of the apple strudel to make sure some of it stretches over the edge proving that the dough was perfectly kneaded. In another I am taller placing apple slices carefully side by side. In a later one I help my mother knead the dough and my father peel and slice the apples while my siblings sprinkle on raisins.
In all of these there is the common perspective of the fork cutting a warm slice of apple strudel on a plate with ice cream. After having children of my own I understand how they must have enjoyed watching us help make and then eat this dessert which, as far as I can remember, was the meal.
After many years my sisters and I tried to make that meal for them one holiday afternoon when we were all together again since it was not something they did anymore, while there was still time. We read our mother’s handwritten recipe card and she explained what parts we could ignore and what we needed to add that she did not clearly write down. We could not get the dough as large as any of us remembered it being. We realized that none of us were as picky as we used to be with how apple slices should be placed. In the end, it tasted OK without reaching the level of mythic perfection we expected, but we think they enjoyed watching us try.
CHILDREN’S TINY HANDS
SPRING WARMS MEMORIES AGAIN
PARENTS WATCHING ON
Linked to dVerse Haibun Monday hosted by Toni Spencer.