Yeast, and the Fat Lady
Posted February 16, 2015on:
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From my sister, Carol. About our mother, Swedish cardamom coffeecake and grand opera.
When I was a very young girl, my Mother and I would listen to Chicago’s WGN radio broadcast of the Saturday matinée from the Met during the winter opera season. (“Li-i-i-ve! From the Met–ropolitan Opera in New York; brought to you by Tex-aco…”). And Saturday was baking day.
I’d awaken to the aroma of yeast budding away in a little warm water in the big yellow Pyrex bowl that I now own. I was always assigned the task of grinding the BB-sized pellets of cardamom, which came about 5 or 6 per tiny round, beige, papery husk, using the gray mortar and pestle that’s now my sister’s. I’d watch Mom add the flour mixture to the foamy, beige yeast solution, knead it on a large floured board on the kitchen table, put the dough back in the yellow bowl and cover it with a cloth…
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