Mae’s Apple Cake
A small, square, glass jar sits tucked away in the corner of my kitchen counter. Both the jar and the recipes inside belonged to my Grandma. I also have her little black book in which there are pages filled with ingredients and instructions, written in her most identifiable penmanship. And there is an envelope, stuffed to capacity with recipes clipped from the newspaper, labels snipped from jars and cans, and other hand written treasures that are worth gold to me. When I’m missing her, I can find her among these pages and papers. She comes alive there, and together we travel back in time to the little nook in her kitchen where she spent endless hours kneading dough, mixing batter, and preparing the most delicious food, effortlessly and with quiet grace. Continue reading
