Feb. 24
So I have reached the point where there is only about a
teaspoon or two of vanilla left in the bottle of vanilla extract K.B. made and gave to
me over a year ago. Even though I have done some baking recently, it didn’t
occur to me to use that vanilla. I went out and bought a small bottle of
manufactured vanilla extract.
What has held me back from using the vanilla K.B. made and
gave me? Is it a belief that in some way it is a remnant of her still in my
life, and that if I were to finish the bottle I would be eliminating a trace of
her, erasing a bit of her presence still with me? Or is it that I realize that
I will never again be the recipient of one of her exquisite culinary creations,
and that anything I might have left must be treasured until some special
moment?
Or is it that the jar of vanilla extract contains the memories
of lengthy conversations about vanilla and how best to make one’s own extract,
about why my own attempt to make it with bourbon was far from satisfactory?
(Ah, that poor unloved jar containing my own efforts, sitting right next to
K.B.’s; once K.B. gave me hers, I didn’t bother using my own in baking, but
didn’t want to throw it out as I thought I ought to use it up eventually.) Not
only was she generous in her gifts of things she made in her own kitchen, but
she was generous in sharing her knowledge of cooking and baking.
Now I feel rudderless. Who will I turn to the next time I
have a question about what to use Italian 00 flour for, or what to do with date
molasses? Who will give me the tips she did on matters like how to make the perfect
ganache? Who will show me how to make butter? She had an old-fashioned jar with
paddles for making butter, and we were always talking about her bringing it
over for an afternoon and putting it through its paces.
Yes, I know there is the Internet, and there are books. But
nothing was as valuable as being able, in the midst of a culinary meltdown, to
phone her and say, “Help! The butter and sugar aren’t creaming properly!! Is
that fatal to my cake?” She always knew the answer.
I think these things (the vanilla, the wedding and funeral programs) take on the aura of a religious relic -- they are not just the thing, but they represent more. Using it all up would be like drinking holy water out of thirst. And I think it's okay to have these mementos, these touchstones.
ReplyDeleteThe analogy of a religious relic is a perfect one, Wynn Anne. I still have a jar full of peppermint candy and white and dark chocolate chips with an accompanying recipe; it was my Christmas gift from K.B. from 2012. (You melt the candy and the chocolates with evaporated milk for a delicious hot mint-chocolate drink.) I had been saving it for a special occasion all of last year. I do plan to make the recipe--I know she would have wanted that--and gather together a few people to share in it, like a sort of communion, a ritual enacted in remembrance of her.
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