I found fresh strawberries at the Farmer's Market this week. I had
to buy them; that memory from Monday and blackberry overload was now a distant
memory. Yesterday afternoon I decided to relive a childhood memory and
whip up a strawberry dessert that my grandmother made for my sister and me when
we were much younger.
Keagan was very impressed with my strawberry cream concoction, and within just a few minutes he returned to the kitchen with, "You're such a good cooker, Mom! That was great!"
I responded with, "Thanks, Keagan. When I was a little girl, my grandmother used to make this same dish for me. You see she would chop up the berries and then mix them with...."
"Wooah, Mom. I don't care HOW you make it. I just want you to make some MORE."
I could hear Grandma laughing along with me, and then I did exactly as she would have done. I pulled out the cream from the fridge, sugar from the canister, and berries from the sack and whipped up another helping of strawberry cream.
Keagan was very impressed with my strawberry cream concoction, and within just a few minutes he returned to the kitchen with, "You're such a good cooker, Mom! That was great!"
I responded with, "Thanks, Keagan. When I was a little girl, my grandmother used to make this same dish for me. You see she would chop up the berries and then mix them with...."
"Wooah, Mom. I don't care HOW you make it. I just want you to make some MORE."
I could hear Grandma laughing along with me, and then I did exactly as she would have done. I pulled out the cream from the fridge, sugar from the canister, and berries from the sack and whipped up another helping of strawberry cream.
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