I love baking cakes! I know you could probably guess that since this is a cake blog. But its not just the finished product, or the finished cake that I love. It’s the process of baking the cake. Every time I start sifting flour and measuring sugar. Every time I fill the pans with fluffy batter I think of my Grandma. I can hear her reminding me to tap the pans on the counter to get out the air bubbles, or see her standing next to me as I weigh my pans to make sure there is an equal amount of batter in each pan before I cook them. I see her sitting at her blue table in the kitchen telling me where the pure vanilla is for the hundredth time. I think of her as a younger grandma, as I sit as a young child and watch in fascination as the makes perfect rose after perfect rose.
I think of sitting with her as I try again and again to make a rose, she is 85 in this memory and legally blind, but I go visit her every week. I take her cookie dough already made into balls and frozen so Grandma can always have fresh baked cookies to share with anyone that comes to visit. Grandma doesn’t want anyone to go home empty handed. Those little cookies mean so much to her. And in return, although blind and home bound, she sits patiently with me, my cute little son playing on the floor at my feet and we practice roses, flowers and piping. Grandma can see out the sides of her eyes if it is close enough. So I work, then I hand her my rose nail with my awkward rose on top. Grandma puts it so close to her eyes I am worried she will get frosting on her face. She smiles at me and says “That is a little better, let me show you again.” I lead her hand to the center of the nail and she proceeds to make a perfect rose. I smile and try again.
I looked forward to our time together. We would sit and talk, eat lunch together, I would clean her house and she would play as best she could with my little boy. I miss my Grandma and I love feeling so close to her each time I bake a cake.