Belinda Smith-Sullivan - Southern Sugar

For anyone who has ever grown up in the kitchen of theirgrandmother, mother, or auntsno matter the geographic locationthe experienceswere not that different. You were exposed to ingredients, techniques, equipment,and tools that left a permanent impression on your mind and unanswered questionsin your head. These mysteries would preoccupy you until you asked the questionsand closed the gap in your learning curve.

I was an extremely curious child! According to relatives, I always hadan unlimited cache of questions, and nowhere did these manifest more than in thekitchen while serving as the ultimate little helper to my female mentors. I wascooking by the time I was seven. I had a knack for remembering details and couldreplicate everything I observed. By the time I was eight, I was correcting my motheron things that she inadvertently missed or omitted. Needless to say, this got meinto trouble sometimes. But soon she relied on me, and since she was a workingmother, I became her secret weapon for getting dinner on the table in a timelymanner during the week.

By far, my best experiences were hanging out in the kitchen with mygrandmother, whom we spent many summers with during our youth. I was amazed at thethings she did without the help of the fancy appliances that my mother had at herdisposal. She cooked on a wood-burning stove and had no running water in herkitchen. She would beat a cake in a huge bowlthat she held on the side of herhipwith a big wooden spoon. I have never known anyone who could beat egg whitesinto meringue or cream into whipped cream by hand (a technique I was taught inculinary school but never mastered) like she could. And how did she instinctively know when the oven temperatureon thewood-burning stovereached 350 degrees?

Cakes, pies, and sweets were especially of interest to me. I think theappeal was that the final product was always so pretty. People oohed and aahed over the confections, but rarelyextended dinner the same excitement. That was good, theyd say. Whats fordessert?!

By the time I was ten, my mothers good friend paid me five dollarsevery week to bake two cakes for her family. Eventually, my role was cast for allour family and holiday gatherings. Mama confidently assigned all the baking dutiesto mebut always kept a close eye on me while I made her prized pound cake!Thanksgiving dinner was always held at our house, attended by at least forty people.I would start one week early, baking and freezing cakes and pies of all sorts,because Mama insisted that everyones favorite dessert be prominently displayed onthe eight-foot dessert table.