Sunday, October 4, 2009

Blowing dust and flour

She blew dust and flour from that first book of beautiful things and pressed her lips to an old photo of Isabel, her image dark through the Brownie’s lens. She turned the page to trace a drawing of Andromeda and another page to see pasted moth wings. The recipes were scrawled near the back. They were approximations, notes Gloria had made while Isabel mixed and folded—following recipes in her head—while Gloria had thought it important to put them on paper lest Isabel forget. Now, Gloria recopied the recipes onto index cards. In the evenings, she and Izzy practiced making peasant bread and lemon squares, guessing what ingredients Gloria had forgotten to write down. The cakes and breads were all right, but just all right, and Gloria knew they had to be better, richer, and however complex, taste effortless. Baking was something you felt and not a recipe to be followed. And Gloria wasn’t there yet, but she would be, picturing herself a gifted baker, flour powdering her cheeks, wrists pinned to her face, asking Izzy for a towel or spoon. She kept at it. The more blindly she mixed, the recipe cards piled across the room, the tastier her breads and cakes. Late at night, lying with Isabel and Lillian’s recipes at her side, she regularly tasted strawberry jam before falling asleep. This was another good and weighty sign.

* This is a photo of the Avon Pier in Avon, North Carolina. A delightfully wobbly wave-like pier as you can see.

1 comment:

  1. Michele,
    Saw your photos at Stir Crazy this morning. I really liked them. Keep it going.

    ReplyDelete