Rainy day blues
It was a dreary one, the sky gray and weeping. Robin slept most of it away as she usually does these days. Usually it is in the 70's this time of year but the dark sky brought a temperature drop to 56. Such days are meant for sleep. As a codger I dozed off in front of the tv. The shows drifting one into another so that I could never keep up.
So I decided to make a peach cobbler just to pass the time with my eyes open. The house still has a warm homey smell of oven bakings, like the times my mother kept the house full of wonderful aromas. A nice touch for a sunless day. The fragrance of peaches settling into a rising crust, like fresh bread wed to simmering fruit. Scents like songs can bring back memories of far away days of kiddom.
The blender whirred louder as the ingredients grew thicker.
"How long, mom?"
"How long til what , dear?"
"Til those cookies are ready?"
She lifted the beaters slowing them to reduce the loss of batter to spray.
"It'll be a while. Here, take the beaters. You can lick those while I spoon out the dough onto cookie sheets."
The beaters were always covered in gooey cookie dough. You could lick them or run your finger along the edge to collect a gob on the end of your finger and stuff it into your mouth.
While I was getting raw cookie mess all over my face my mother slid the first sheet into the hot oven.
"OK. Now I set the timer for 12 minutes. That batch will bake while I get the next sheet ready.
"How many more you gonna dish up?" I asked.
"As many as I can. Probably 3 more sheets. Why?"
"You usually let me lick the dish, too."
"Have you already finished those beaters? Oh, you have haven't you. You got most of it on your face, though." She took a dish towel to the faucet wetting an end. "Come here", she said. "Let's clean you up some."
The buzzer on the stove went off.
"Time to take out the first batch." She opened the oven. The fragrance of cooking dough along with steam came out of the oven fogging her glasses. "Oh, dear. Now I can't see."
"Let me help," I said reaching for the sheet. "YOW!"
My scream woke the dog.
Mom reached for my hand, leaving the cookies in the open oven.
"You should know better," she said in a stern voice. Her fingers dipped into the butter which she smeared over my fingers.
"No need crying," she said as sniffles and tears tracked my face. "You'll be better before you're twice married. Let's wipe those tears."
She returned to the oven reaching for the sheet then closing the door. There was a rack sitting atop 4 Campbell soup cans. She slid the cookies onto that rack so they would cool quickly.
She had already prepared another batch for the oven opening the door and sliding the sheet in. Door closed she set the timer again.
I sat nursing my hand while she spooned out the next rows of dough meant for baking.
"What did you learn today?" she asked taking my hand in hers.
"That the oven is hot!"
"That's right. Have you ever seen me reach into the oven to pick something up?"
"Yes."
"How did I do it?" She picked up the hand mitt.
"With that thing?"
"That's right. Using this I don't burn myself. I think you will remember that now."
"I think so."
"You can try one of those cookies now. They should be cool enough."
Well what do expect? I was what? Five? All I could think about was cookies.
So I decided to make a peach cobbler just to pass the time with my eyes open. The house still has a warm homey smell of oven bakings, like the times my mother kept the house full of wonderful aromas. A nice touch for a sunless day. The fragrance of peaches settling into a rising crust, like fresh bread wed to simmering fruit. Scents like songs can bring back memories of far away days of kiddom.
The blender whirred louder as the ingredients grew thicker.
"How long, mom?"
"How long til what , dear?"
"Til those cookies are ready?"
She lifted the beaters slowing them to reduce the loss of batter to spray.
"It'll be a while. Here, take the beaters. You can lick those while I spoon out the dough onto cookie sheets."
The beaters were always covered in gooey cookie dough. You could lick them or run your finger along the edge to collect a gob on the end of your finger and stuff it into your mouth.
While I was getting raw cookie mess all over my face my mother slid the first sheet into the hot oven.
"OK. Now I set the timer for 12 minutes. That batch will bake while I get the next sheet ready.
"How many more you gonna dish up?" I asked.
"As many as I can. Probably 3 more sheets. Why?"
"You usually let me lick the dish, too."
"Have you already finished those beaters? Oh, you have haven't you. You got most of it on your face, though." She took a dish towel to the faucet wetting an end. "Come here", she said. "Let's clean you up some."
The buzzer on the stove went off.
"Time to take out the first batch." She opened the oven. The fragrance of cooking dough along with steam came out of the oven fogging her glasses. "Oh, dear. Now I can't see."
"Let me help," I said reaching for the sheet. "YOW!"
My scream woke the dog.
Mom reached for my hand, leaving the cookies in the open oven.
"You should know better," she said in a stern voice. Her fingers dipped into the butter which she smeared over my fingers.
"No need crying," she said as sniffles and tears tracked my face. "You'll be better before you're twice married. Let's wipe those tears."
She returned to the oven reaching for the sheet then closing the door. There was a rack sitting atop 4 Campbell soup cans. She slid the cookies onto that rack so they would cool quickly.
She had already prepared another batch for the oven opening the door and sliding the sheet in. Door closed she set the timer again.
I sat nursing my hand while she spooned out the next rows of dough meant for baking.
"What did you learn today?" she asked taking my hand in hers.
"That the oven is hot!"
"That's right. Have you ever seen me reach into the oven to pick something up?"
"Yes."
"How did I do it?" She picked up the hand mitt.
"With that thing?"
"That's right. Using this I don't burn myself. I think you will remember that now."
"I think so."
"You can try one of those cookies now. They should be cool enough."
Well what do expect? I was what? Five? All I could think about was cookies.