Memories and a Challenge

Soon after writing blog entry number one, fond baking memories flooded back into my mind and caused an instant desire to revisit each one. I spent hours on the phone, emailing, and going through every photo I could find to make sure everything I was remembering was correct.

My very first baking memory involves my Mom's chocolate chip cookies. She made them in a standing, mustard colored mixer on the faux marble counter in the house I grew up in. We lived outside of town in "the country" where my Dad meticulously cared for an enormous garden that provided more than enough fresh produce four our family of four. Whenever there was extra sweet corn, zucchini, or pumpkins, my sister and I would set out with our wooden Radio Flyer wagon and give them all away to our neighbors. Did your family grow their own food, can their own vegetables, and bake their own bread? Mine did. It has been said I did not consume store bought bread until the age of five... BACK to the cookies! My Mom always let my sister and I help. This early memory involves me sitting on the counter watching the bowl spin round and round and MOST importantly, sticking my fingers in to sneak tastes of delicious batter ;) I was probably around this size.


My second memory is of my Grandma Mullins who lived on a farm in south central Illinois for the majority of her 98 year life. The following, vivid memory is one I do not believe I'll ever forget. When thinking of her, this is exactly how I see her, no matter the actual time of the full memory I'm recalling. She is at the kitchen counter, left of the stove, in the house at the farm. She is wearing a long old apron and her hair is short or pulled back. I can see loose strands floating free in the sunlight that bathes her, coming from the south window over the sink. She is making her famous homemade bread. I loved visiting my Grandma Mullins because she was a tall (like me), strong and smart woman who always had a smile on her face. She was exactly what a grandmother should be. On this occasion I got to visit her all by myself and assist with the large batch of bread she was baking. I remember kneading the dough and poking holes in the top with a fork. EVERY single time I go down to the farm, I gorge on Mary Mullins's homemade bread. My Aunt Marilyn continues this legacy with a modernized, healthier version. This bread recipe is my challenge for the summer!

It took a long time for me to realize and appreciate how much I value the childhood and life I've been given. I was again inspired to blog about these memories this week, as a cold front and unusual period of rain left Colorado green and steamy. Smelling the damp grass and seeing moisture hang in low lying fields took me right back to my Gilberts and Butler oases. Learning to plant and nurture, bake and share, cherish the people I love and ground myself every day are some of the values my family has passed down to me. What simple pleasures are you thankful for?