Growing up watching my grandma cooking, I was always intrigued when she was sending me to get a certain book from the upstairs room. Why does she need a cookbook, I was thinking, doesn’t she know how to cook everything?!
I opened the index and started searching with my finger for the recipe she told me.
Most of the times I had to look after a dessert. Other times just pickles or some very complicated stew with meat.
She told me to measure the flour, sugar and butter very meticulously and that if I make a mistake the cake won’t rise. I knew how bad it was for a cake not to rise, so I always got scared.
Seeing me like that, she would always make a joke and say “oh no big deal we’ll make another one and we’ll feed the kitties with the failed one”. Then she kept teasing me while measuring and would help me when she saw that I lost focus.
When losing my focus, I would just sit on the bench and watch her agile hands work so flawlessly. Or I would start to write and draw on the back of her cookbooks.