Tuesday, April 20, 2010

A spring day, unsettled somewhat

There's more to a cake than meets the eye.   LC

Outside the clouds pile up, the sun disappears, the wind goes blustery and occasionally there are outbursts of rain.  It is beautiful.  I am painting (as you can see), and while I am thinking about that painting, I made a cake from scratch.  It is my version of Bonnie Butter Cake (1974 Betty Crocker), with brandy (I have no vanilla) and walnuts.  The icing is (more)Butter Lemon.  The cake is too warm for the frosting, so it is piling up, somewhat, at the edges.  I may move it later, back to the middle.  For now, I confess, I ate the corner and I am so glad that that is done, and I can go back to the studio.  Next time I eat, I promise, it will be some healthy hot soup.

You know, there was a time, when Wayne was a tree trimmer, that I made some variation of this cake every day.  It came out of the oven just before the school bus stopped at the side of the house.  Right about then, Wayne and his brother, and now and then a worker, would coincidently arrive.  The kitchen filled up with swarming children(all girls!), backpacks, chatter, bickering and whining, laughter and a couple of kids from across the street.  The 'fridge door would be jerked open, out came the milk.  Plates clattered, and the silverware drawer would be crashed open, forks flew out on to the table.  Chairs scraped the floor.  Then the back door would open again, and in came the tree trimmers, with a waft of fir or oak or brush-pile smoke ahead of them.  Wayne's brother would have a beer in hand to wash his cake down, sometimes he brought me one.  Usually I had a fresh cup of coffee, so I'd put the beer into the 'fridge and he'd drink it the next day.

Inside of fifteen minutes an entire cake would be gone.

Oh how could I forget the baby boy?  When 'the sisters' arrived, for whom he had been waiting in great anticipation at the window with Punkin-the-long-haired-orange cat, he'd squeal with delight and drop to all fours and plow into the kitchen to meet head-on the incoming crowd.

This is my present-day Little Man.  Well.  Not so little, but the name fits him.  Emerson is dealing with this rainy day in typical Labbie fashion.  I know there is a glimmer of hope that some one (me) will take him to the Lake one of these days.  Little does he know how bone-tired I have been.  I am grateful for this day to catch up some on tiny bits of housework, to make a meal for tonight, to work in my studio.  I am most grateful that I feel so upright!  Alive!  Nothing hurts, and I am coughing very little.  Shhhhh (whispering here), I AM RETURNING TO THE LIVING!!!!!  I just don't want Emerson to know quite yet, understand?  Isn't he handsome and cute?

This is my elixir:  It is a fresh lemon, sliced, a couple of broad-leafed sage leaves, and fresh ginger, sliced.  After letting it steep, I pour a cup and add a generous teaspoon of honey.  I have been drinking this by the gallon, seriously.  Guess what else I discovered:  pour this(cooled) into about 1/2 bottle of Pellegrino and voila!  Limoncello!

And this is my present day Tree Trimmer.  Actually, he is a chiropractor, but he still loves that saw.  I scold him if I think that he is trimming too much (hahaha!), and he does it anyway.  He does not eat a cake a day, and besides, I don't really feel like baking one every single day anyways.  Not to mention that we would lose our fantastic figures.

Someday I may write about loving this man.  It hasn't all been peaches and roses, though that may have been an unrealistic expectation in the first place.  Even as I write this it occurs to me, what would he write about loving me?  Maybe we will write a piece together.  Maybe that is what we are doing.

Yes, now I go paint.  Wait, I'm hungry!  


Merry ME said...

I think the cake recipe would be in order!

Friko said...

what a lovely post.
You made me feel as if you had baked the cake for me and filled my kitchen with the smell of fresh baking.

Love your reminiscing about all the times you baked in the past and how you fed the hungry hordes then.

Glad you too have a Beloved. Of course, nothing is ever plain sailing but to speak of love is a very good beginning. And end.

AkasaWolfSong said...

Ahhh! And now I must bake cake!

Something chocolate or spice!

Your tea looks quite lovely and healing...I can smell it from here. :)

I loved reading your sharing!

N2 said...

So glad you are upright and painting and writing and photographing and !!baking!! I think I Must Have a piece of walnut cake. What will it take? Kisses...N2

Sorrow said...

A tree trimmer turned Chiropractor.
Now there is a tale.
Sometime when you write I wonder if you are me or I am you living in an alternate time and space.
the cake, the beer, the girls, the love the story, it all resonates so much.
Thank you
thank you...

From the Kitchen said...

Hello. I just came over from Elizabeth's blog. Your header got me right away. Is that Larabee? Your dalmatian? I am the "mother" of a dalmatian so am always interested. Love your reminiscing about your family. I spend lots of time doing the same. Please come for a "visit" for my blog--bring Larabee!!


Elizabeth said...

That lemon concoction and limoncello make my mouth water. Do you steep the stuff first in hot water?

From the Kitchen said...

All dalmatians are lap dogs! Both of our dals have been smilers. Love it!

Thanks for the visit. Come back anytime.


Bethany said...

Well, now I'm hungry too. I'm glad you're feeling better and painting. The cake looks so yum. I was smack dab in that kitchen with you with the cake and kids, the clatter and tree trimmers. What a beautifully told memory. I enjoyed every minute. As I bet they all did. Sweet stuff.
Your dog boy is gorgeous as usual.
I'm sure you will take him to the late soon.

script type="text/javascript" src="http://s44.sitemeter.com/js/counter.js?site=s44larabee">