Posted by on Dec 3, 2011 in Photographs, Sacred Foods | 0 comments

Dad’s favorite chicken pie is already simmering in the oven.  It’s doing its bubbling dance which will, upon its presentation at the dining room table, make him shiver with delight.  Brother sips his “secret recipe” eggnog while listening to the buzz of the Sunday afternoon game.  Dean Martin croons his holiday lyrics in the distance.  At the orange laminate counter top in the far corner of the kitchen, Nana is working on the next recipe as she hums along with Dean.

Her mature hands wrap the wooden spoon with a vice-like grip in defiance of the swelling which threatens their strength.  In less than one round of the song’s chorus, the ingredients meld into a consistent, smooth caramel color.   It seems that even the glass baking pan is smiling through the sheen of butter smeared on it. The holder of Nana’s coveted batch of heaven is excited about the forthcoming confections.

Little Suzie, standing on her tippy toes, peers over the table’s edge with the tiny finger of her left hand pointing straight up.  She’s already a veteran of Nana’s Christmas magic.  The mini-spatula finger stands ready to swipe some of the creamy gold.  Her right hand staves off a toddler boy-child, smaller than she, who is also curious about the goings-on of the kitchen counter.

“Now, Nana?” The girl begs as much with her blue-green eyes as with her squeaky trill.  Suzie is awaiting permission to taste the creamy remnants of the ceramic bowl.  At five years old, even she knows the ache of anticipation, the delight in the first taste of holiday fudge.


~Tam Veilleux~



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