My mother wasn't much of a baker, the few times she did, it was a mix or some recipe off the back of a box of Bisquick. My grandmother on my mother's side was. She baked her own cakes, pies, bread and donuts as well. I remember visiting her, and while she was pretty much the quiet type, when she was cooking or baking, she'd tell me stories about the past, like during the depression, when my grandfather was away working on a crew building an air strip (they were farmers), and she was alone with the children trying to hold the farm together. Or about the various adventures my mother, aunts and uncles got into when they were young (my mother being chased by a bear) My favorite were her crullers, rolled in cinnamon sugar. I enjoyed reading Marbelle's recollections about her grandmother's mixing bowls. It made me remember my grandmother's, there were three of them in different sizes, a tan color with a brown stripe around each. When it comes to my daughter, she was very interested in cooking as a small child. She wanted to pitch in every time I was in the kitchen. Mixing, flipping pancakes or grilled cheese sandwiches. Each Christmas I'd bake a variety of cookies, and I'd arrange for her to help, whether it was rolling a piece of her own dough, putting a layer of jam or nuts (she always loved helping to make Magic Bars, or as we called them when I was growing up, Hello Dollies). She lost interest by the time she became a teenager, but now that she's in her twenties, she has become interested again. I've enjoyed helping her to get back into the swing of things again, not to be afraid to get in there with a mixing or cooking spoon or spatula.

• Reply