Grandma's Cranberry Bread
Maybe it's the saturated color, teasing me.
Glistening berries, rounded and full,
a dash of orange peel, walnuts, cup of sugar.
Grandma folding them into flour mixture.
Aroma of the baking, the cooling, the waiting my undoing;
this reminiscence, this childhood refuge, an elixir I miss.
by Margaret Bednar, November 11, 2018
As a kid I really didn't like cranberries. I hated them served at Thanksgiving and Christmas (I love them now) but I loved my Grandma's Cranberry Bread (probably all the sugar she put in the recipe). Anyway, I saw this huge supply of cranberries at the grocery store and I was almost transported back to the warm and welcoming kitchen of my Grandma's ... I ached for it!
It's sad, but I don't have her recipe, but I am going to try the one below.
Linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Fussy Little Forms - Cherita"
7 comments:
Your poem brings back so many warm and lovely memories of my grandmother. They were all magicians in the kitchen, weren't they?
So delectable — I can totally empathize with "the waiting my undoing". A lovely cherita. :-)
... the waiting is the hardest part.
This is lovely, Margaret. Have you ever seen a cranberry bog? Blew my mind completely the first time I saw one, wow.
I do love cranberry bread! Delicious!
Oh, what a sweet memory. Cranberries are one of my favorite fruits.
Nice memory, and sounds yummy.
You painted us such a treasured memory. Thank you for sharing that! Now, I am craving Cranberry Bread! lol
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