Mix By Hand

I enjoy baking.  I always have.  I'm not necessarily good at it, but I enjoy baking simple things like banana bread muffins, brownies, cookies, cake.  I remember baking with my grandmother.  She taught me how to make zucchini bread and lemon meringue pie.  I have her old, faded recipe book - it is a treasure.

My mom did not teach me how to bake - she was not that kind of mom.  But I have one very clear memory of baking that I have always associated with my mom and it came to mind today.

My mom and step-dad, Lee, loved to play the game of Risk.  I have memories of living in our townhouse on the Eagle Vail golf course - my mom's friends would come over on the weekends and they would play that board game for hours.  I was nine or ten, my brother must have been five or six.  The adults would gather in the dining room and play and talk. 

I recall one specific evening in which I asked if I could make a pan of brownies - "I can do it myself," I proudly exclaimed, "The directions are right here on the box."  I got straight to work. 

Step 1:  Heat the oven to 350 degrees...wait...do I use the high altitude directions?  We are definitely over 6000 feet.
Step 2:  Grease the pan.  I dipped a paper towel in the margarine tub and rubbed it into the rectangle pan.
Step 3:  Add the ingredients.  Eggs, Oil, water.  I very carefully measured the liquid ingredients and extra carefully cracked the eggs.
Step 4:  Mix by hand for 2 minutes.  By hand?  Really?  That seems odd, but okay - here goes.  I dipped both hands into the mixture and used my hands to combine the wet, slimy ingredients.  I watched the clock and timed myself for exactly 2 minutes. 

Now what?  I'm messy and have no idea how to get the mixture into the pan with my hands all slimy.  I called to my mom - she was sitting around the corner, only 3 feet away.

My mom tells this story often because it is one of her favorites.  A moment in time when her struggling-to-be-independent child took directions a little too literally.  It is amusing to her and she laughs and laughs.

Now that I am older, I can definitely see the humor in this moment.  As a pre-teen little girl, I was embarrassed and humiliated by my error - especially in front of adult guests in the house whom all enjoyed my little mistake. 

Moments like this are amusing.  I recall a similar situation where my young roommate poured Downy liquid into our new Downy Ball and put it in the dryer.  She couldn't understand why her clothes had Downy stains all over them.  I laughed.  When we reunite, we tell this story.

Tonight I made brownies and paid particular attention to the directions.  Step 4 said,  "Mix, stir by hand until well blended - about 50 strokes."  My mind wandered back to that moment in my mom's kitchen some 30 years ago and I smiled as I thought about the stories from our lives, the stories we tell, the stories that make us who we are.