So this past week we were working on the writing process and the 6 traits of effective writing in language class. We were working on the trait of logical organization. We planned out our middles with the writing topic of “making something”. Then the students had to take their planners and put it into sentence and paragraph form. Before we could do that with our middles, we wrote beginnings and endings for our essays about making something. It quickly became apparent that we needed more work on beginnings and endings. So I set to work on creating an example of a middle and several examples of different beginnings and endings for the same middle. As I was working on my example I decided that maybe, just maybe it was worth sharing here as well. So I’ve taken my favorite beginning, my middle and my favorite ending and included them here. With a few additions and revisions for an older crowd.
Cooking and baking are often a source of great joy and contentment for me. But nothing brings me greater joy and brings back more happy memories than baking a good old fashioned apple pie. Every time I bake an apple pie, I remember and I’m so thankful for my strong and wonderful Grandma Kiehne, who took many an hour to try to teach me to be a pie baker like she was. I’ll never forget the time she and I baked over a dozen apple pies to feed the football team on a Friday night before a home game.
Grandma’s kitchen was tiny. It had the old gold appliances, right down to the oven in the wall and the stovetop on top of the counter space. Because she didn’t have much counterspace we had to use the table and spread out the cooking process. We gathered all the ingredients together to start. I remember her old tupperware containers full of sugar, flour and the containers of cornstarch. Grandma always used good old fashioned lard in her pie and loads of yummy cinnamon. And there were apples. Lots and lots of apples and the trusty paring knife because the first thing we had to do… peel all those apples.
By the time the apples were peeled and cut into slices, my hand was so sore and I was pretty sure that I couldn’t do one more thing in this pie baking process. But the pie baking was just beginning. We still had to mix the dough and get it rolled out just right. There was a lot of dough and a lot of crusts to roll out. Grandma was a stickler for detail and a perfectionist. (Funny how that is apparently genetic. Who knew?). That dough had to be just right. She knew exactly how it should feel and knew just what to add if it wasn’t perfect. Once it was perfect, Grandma could roll out a perfect circle that was just the right thickness all the way around. Mine looked more like a wavy, flatish lump and she would make me roll it again. And again. And again until it was just right. (Sometimes even just taking over for me and showing me where I was going wrong.)
Finally we could put our pies together, starting with a layer of crust. That crust had to be put into the tin just so and formed to the tin. Then the apples and ingredients to make the filling before adding another crust layered over the top. Grandma always used a fork to press the edges together and make a pretty design around the edge of the pie. After sprinkling a little sugar over the top it was ready for the oven.
The hardest part was smelling that pie as it baked and waiting for it to finally come out of the oven. Cinnamon, sugar, butter, all those smells would blend together and cause my stomach to start rumbling with excitement. It would seem to take forever before the filling would bubble out the cracks and edges and the pie, or pies in this case, would be ready to take out.
To this day when I make pie, I still remember the lessons my grandma taught me. I remember her telling me to roll the dough thinner, or pinch the crust together better. I remember her frustration when I added too much flour and the crust was too dry or didn’t cook it long enough and the apples were too crunchy. Grandma was a tough teacher, but she taught me not to never settle for less than my best. And I hope, that someday I can pass the same lessons on to my grandkids. And maybe I’ll even get to tell them that their pie, “wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be” and they will feel that rush of joy I felt. Because for Grandma, that was a huge compliment and to get the famous “pie lady’s” endorsement was a really big deal.
I was blessed to have such a true matriarch to help raise me. Grandma taught me to be tough, to be strong, to stand up for what I believe and to protect those that I love with everything I have. She was a force to be reckoned with but the kindest woman I know. She had a huge and giving heart and was well known for opening her heart and her home to those in need. Why send your kid to military school when Grandma Kiehne was tougher than any drill sergeant? I never thanked Grandma enough for all she did to help me get my start in life. I hope she’s looking down with pride as I do my best to raise her two great granddaughter’s to be strong Kiehne women. I think, as I curse them for their attitudes and independence some days, that she would love the legacy she has left behind.
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