Wednesday, March 7, 2012

We All Have to Suffer

Mother Gertrude always stored her homemade cakes and pies in an old fashioned cake tin on top of the refrigerator or "ice-box" as she called it.  In my opinion, she was a world class baker. My favorite desserts were her chocolate or lemon supreme cakes. They both were moist and delicious. Boxes of cookies and crackers for her and Papa's late night snack sat close by the cake tin. And there was always a box of dog biscuits for Zsa Zsa - their French poodle.

Mother Gertrude also enjoyed baking fruitcakes doused with liquor during the Christmas holidays for all of her dear friends. She used to make my cousin, Tommy, go to the bootleg joint to "pick-up" her necessary ingredient. I think Tommy was her willing partner in crime - sort of speak. Often, when I visited Mother Gertrude and Papa, my second order of business, after informing them of my hectic day in kindergarten, was to ease into the kitchen. I pulled a chair close to the ice-box and climbed on top of it until I could peek inside the cake tin. I had prayed that I would find a lemon supreme cake. Instead, I found a regular ol' pound cake. I released a loud noise.

"Ugh!" I had exclaimed.
Walking into the kitchen, Mother Gertrude asked, "What's wrong?"
"You don't have any lemon supreme cake?" I asked, still standing on the chair.
"No. I have sugar (diabetes), now. So, I'm not going to eat lemon supreme or chocolate cakes anymore," she replied.
"So, we all have to suffer because you have sugar?" I asked.
"Yes, indeed," she replied.
"You want some jello with custard?" Mother Gertrude offered. (Read my blog post: "Jello and Fried Fish with Eyes")
"Oh, hell no!" I thought. After a moment, I replied, "No, thank you. I don't need all of that cake anyway," as she helped me from the chair.

Days later while spending the night with Mother Gertrude, Papa and my cousins and aunt, Mother Gertrude walked into the somewhat dark kitchen, reached for a napkin on the table and placed her hand inside of a box on top of the refrigerator. She pulled out several crackers, placed them in her napkin and returned to the bedroom. Now, watching one of her favorite television programs, The Lawrence Welk Show, with Papa and enjoying the crackers; her teenage granddaughter, Tee Tee, entered the bedroom to talk for a few minutes. Suddenly, Tee Tee gave her a strange look.

"What's wrong with you?" Mother Gertrude asked as she bit into her fourth cracker.
"What are you eating?" asked Tee Tee.
"Crackers. Want some?"
"Those are not crackers. Didn't you noticed that they are shaped like a postman and a milkman and a fire hydrant?" Tee Tee asked.
"What?!" asked Mother Gertrude.
"You are eating Zsa Zsa's dog biscuits that's on top of the refrigerator."

Upon hearing this bit of information from my cousin, Mother Gertrude released a scream that could have awaken the dead. Papa laughed hysterically along with Tommy, Tee Tee, Aunt Ellen and me. Needless to say, the box of dog biscuits were moved to another kitchen location. And even though Mother Gertrude has gone to her eternal reward (no, the dog biscuits didn't kill her), this story still brings back funny family memories.

Now, if I get at least two page views and comments on this blog post, I may publish Mother Gertrude's lemon supreme or pound cake recipe (if I can find it) on next week.

Until next week...Keep praising His name!
Sir Charles

(My novels and ebook are available at http://www.xlibris.com - Charles Carroll Lee)

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